Chapter 5 #2
The words saturate the air, pressing in from all sides. He sounds so certain, but also brutalized, like this knowledge guts him. I swivel back to the window, desperate to escape the weight of his wanting. “You say that, but I don’t even know what mates are. We don’t have those in Aethrolia.”
The Shadow steps closer, his scent washing over me in dizzying waves. I brace my palms against the sill, needing something to anchor myself to. Anything.
“Mates,” he says, low and insistent, “are exactly what you think they’d be.
They’re two souls carved from the same star.
Who, if they’re lucky enough to cross paths, are meant to surrender to one another.
To entwine. Most fae never even find theirs.
It’s rare. But when we do, we know, like I knew in your garden.
Like I know right now. You’d know, too, if you weren’t human.
It’s just that your senses are…different.
You don’t experience this the same way I do. ”
I eye him sidelong, then give a short, sharp shake of my head. “No, I don’t. I don’t feel anything at all. I’m not sure I even believe you.”
A long silence unspools, the quiet pulling so taut that eventually, I have no choice but to face him again. A challenge blazes in his yellow eyes. “When you look at me, you feel nothing? Not even a flicker?”
I open my mouth to confirm, but the words lose momentum before reaching my airway. Because deep down, at my hidden center, something trembles when I stand before him. It did in the garden, and it does here, too. Only now, I dread what it might mean.
“What do you feel?” I ask, ignoring his question, shoving mine at him like a rebuttal.
“Like I’ve been wandering in darkness for my whole life.” His gaze sweeps my face, his answer flowing from his tongue like it’s been waiting. “And now I’ve seen light for the very first time.”
Those words thread around my ribcage and squeeze. As much as I hate to admit it, his certainty speaks to something in me. Suddenly, I’m back in my temple, kneeling with my hands clasped, awaiting the goddess’s grace.
Because I know conviction like that. I respect it. I cherish it above all else.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll submit to this goblin’s bizarre fixations.
“Look,” I say. “I don’t want to be your mate, and I definitely don’t want to be Amriel’s. I just want to break this curse and go home, like we agreed.”
The Shadow’s brows crook. “None of us has a say in who our mate is. If you’d just stay a while, if you’d let me show you, let me touch—”
“No.” The word jets from between my teeth. “You won’t be touching me. Ever.”
He stares for an overlong moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “If it’s my goblin form that bothers you, you could let Amriel do it. He could show you what it feels like when your mate—”
“No!” I resist the urge to clamp my hands over my ears. “No one’s touching me, especially not Amriel. He’d sooner send me to my death in that forest, anyway.”
The Shadow’s gaze grows haunted. “I know it seems that way. But Amriel only acts the way he does because he’s forgotten how to want.
How to do anything but suffer the pain of the curse.
Now that you’re here, though, now that he can see you, smell you…
” His nostrils flare on an inhale. “He’ll remember. He won’t be able to help himself.”
The warning slides an icy dagger into my belly. The idea of Amriel looking at me with the same hunger this Shadow does… I shake my head, trying to banish the thought.
Goddess. One fae mate is bad enough, but two? No, thank you. I’d rather face my death in the Wildwood than a version of the fae king who actually wants me.
“Given enough time,” the Shadow continues, “humans can’t resist a mate bond, either.
If you’d just stay, Princess, you’ll eventually give in.
You’ll want to. Either to Amriel, or to me.
Maybe you’ll even run from me on purpose.
And when you do…” His voice drops to a husky murmur.
“I’ll catch you. Claim you. Keep you here forever. It could all be so easy.”
I stare, my throat moving around a painful swallow. “No. I’m going back to Aethrolia. I’m becoming a priestess. And when I do, I’ll forget all about this. You. It’ll be like it never happened.”
Another silence piles around us, this one thick enough that the Shadow gathers a breath before breaking it.
“I think it goes without saying that I’ll do everything in my power to convince you otherwise.
But if you do go into the Wildwood, you should know that when you shatter that hourglass, you’ll have a choice.
Two doors. You’ll only be able to walk through one. ”
“Okay.” I draw the word out. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“One will lead back here, to the castle. To your room, probably. I don’t exactly know.”
My brows knit. “And the other?”
“Back home, to Aethrolia. If you break the curse, you’ll have to choose where to go.”
I let that information settle, then study the stars, the woods, the impossible distance stretching in all directions.
“That’s not a choice, then. That’s an inevitability.
Because I’ll always choose the Aethrolian door.
No matter what.” I just have to survive a lethal forest, first. Scale a sheer cliff, then make my way across a land bridge that looks as likely to crumble as to support my weight.
I stare out, my stomach churning, my brains spinning in nauseated circles.
“It is a choice,” the Shadow insists. “I just hope that by the time you make it, you’ll have given me a chance. Given us a chance.”
I eye him. He doesn’t seem to mind sharing his half of our so-called mate bond with his twin, seems more concerned with convincing me to stay. “If you think I’ll enslave myself to you on purpose, you’re dreaming.”
“Enslave yourself?” An angry sound leaves his throat.
“No. More like enshrine yourself. Why pray to that goddess of yours when you could become one? Because I’d worship at your feet, Princess.
I’d give you whatever you want. I’d tear my own heart out, if you asked. Offer it to you on a silver platter.”
His words land low in my gut, heavy enough to bruise. “That’s nonsensical. You just met me.”
He eases closer. To my dismay, his scent intensifies, committing an assault on my senses I can only barely withstand.
“It doesn’t need to make sense,” he says. “As your mate, I want you. I’ll always want you.”
My skin pebbles at his nearness. “You want to chase me, you mean.”
His purple tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “Yes.”
“And eat me.”
His eyelids fall to half-mast, his claws flexing at his sides. “Yes.”
I gather another breath while one denial after another skids across my mind. But they’re all slippery and half-formed, not solid enough to close my fingers around, much less shape into words.
It’s those teeth of his. Or his mind-boggling size, or his intensity, or the way part of myself curves toward him, despite my efforts to claw it back. But maybe that’s how this works—if we’re mates, then we resonate on some level, regardless of whether I want that or not.
The thought unnerves me, and I rock back on my heels. I won’t let this goblin—this mate of mine—corrupt my thinking. I won’t linger in this place a moment longer than necessary. “This conversation is over. I’m not staying in Velindra, and I just want to go to dinner now. Please.”
The Shadow’s jaw works in silence. After half an eternity, he breaks away from the window. “Fine,” he says. “It’s this way.”
The moment he departs my personal space, my lungs re-expand. I cobble together a semblance of composure and force myself to follow him, one foot after the other.
Still, the exchange stays with me, burrowing into my awareness. I'll catch you. Claim you. Keep you here forever.
I can’t let that happen. I won’t. I curl my hand around my pendant, squeezing until the crescent moon’s points dig into my palm. I latch on to the pain, let it ground me.
I’ll go into the Wildwood, survive it, and go home.
Simple.
The king’s Shadow leads me through hallway after hallway. Mossy walls pulse with gentle light as we descend a long, narrow stairway. Raucous laughter drifts up from below.
At the bottom, we emerge into a great hall. I stop, the room stealing what little breath I have left.
The space is enormous, the ceiling fashioned from a canopy of leaves that sparkle with trapped starlight.
A long table dominates the center, carved from a single massive piece of wood, its surface polished to a mirror shine.
The same delegates that attended the Claiming now sit clustered around it, their cheekbones reflecting the green-and-pink glow that saturates this place.
Like Amriel, they’ve shed their armor, and now wear jewel-toned velvets and gossamer silks—rich, luxuriant fabrics that cling to their bodies. The pink-eyed delegate has unbuttoned his doublet and now lounges among brethren who are clearly no more interested in the concept of modesty than he is.
At the head of the table sits Amriel.
My stomach hitches. The others have made daring enough wardrobe choices, but Amriel’s are downright scandalous.
The neckline of his black shirt plunges so low it bares his chest to the navel.
Carved muscle shows through the vee, along with acres of golden skin, and Ishanna help me, I’ve never seen anything so… so…
I swallow hard. So shameless. The fae king flaunts himself without a shred of decency, and I tear my gaze away, my face flaming.
“Princess,” Amriel says, when he sees us. His voice carries through the hall, and all conversation stops. Every fae eye turns toward me. “It seems you’ve remembered how to walk.”
A low growl emanates from the Shadow’s chest. “You can either be nice to her, or you can be quiet.”
I frown. He doesn’t seem to mind sharing his claim on me, but there’s clearly no love lost between these brothers, either.