Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Lory
“Oh my gods,” Lory cried as she panted into Khayrivven’s shoulder, his wet hair dripping onto her cheek. “Oh my fucking gods.”
“This was—”
“Incredible?” Lory supplied, but Khayrivven shook his head against her hair, brushing a kiss on her neck.
“Life-altering.”
He was right, and the sensation running through her body as Lory examined the thread connecting them almost made her cry out once more.
“What just happened?”
A low, sensual chuckle sounded against her ear, soft and gentle and full of promises.
Unlike the last time they’d been together, Khayrivven didn’t slip away to start pacing. “Our mating bond.”
Holy fucking GODS.
“You could say so,” he responded to her thoughts.
“What does that mean?” They should have scared her, the words mate and bond, but all Lory could feel was that burning connection that she hadn’t had a name for all this time.
Hand Nahrit had mentioned it in passing, but she’d never given it a second thought—that a bond like this could still exist when the ancient powers of the fairies from the Northern Continent were no longer coursing through their veins.
But Khayrivven had said it before: the magic in their veins was a relic from the fairies this world had once feared. Somewhere, in the north, they might still be dwelling in forests and castles hidden from the world, but here—
“It seems our fairy blood is stronger than we thought.” A half-smile quirked Khayrivven’s mouth. “Specifically, it means your fairy heritage is stronger than any of us could have predicted.”
“Predicted. As in the prophecy your father made?” She was still too fuzzy to care that once more he’d kept details to himself.
A nod. “As in the woman who will save Brestolya from a tyrant king.” Bitterness filled his eyes, even when his smile didn’t falter. “The woman who is the miracle the oppressed realms of Brestolya have been waiting for.”
“There’s more, isn’t there?” There was always more. More secrets, more responsibilities she couldn’t yet fathom.
“There is something.” He drew the word out, cautious to keep it devoid of meaning, but Lory heard the cry of war echo in each syllable, the splatter of blood, the weeping of mothers losing their sons and daughters.
“Something is coming, Lory. And I don’t know if we’re ready for it.”
They followed the path toward the palace in silence, fingers twined in a lifeline, despite the bright, golden-orange thread now connecting them, soul to soul.
Where ache and sorrow had resided at the origin of her side of the bond earlier, a warm and content sensation filled her chest, wrapping her heart and protecting the heavier note of how their conversation had ended.
“How long have you known?” It wasn’t fair to ask because, without mates being part of this world for centuries, no one could have been certain that’s what they were, but he could have told her he suspected it rather than letting her believe he didn’t love her.
“A while.”
Such a slippery answer. “A while, as in since you fucked me senseless in your bed, or a prophecy someone I’ve never heard about made fifty years ago?”
A dark chuckle slipped from Khayrivven’s mouth, and he faced her, catching her with both hands and holding her at arm’s length, his eyes two windows to the brewing storm in another world.
“Since the moment you stared at me with those defiant amber eyes at your first trial, staring death in the face with nothing but bitterness and mocking.” His grasp was gentle, yet firm enough to hold her in place, even when the distance felt wrong.
“I might not have named it that, but I certainly knew that, if I didn’t stop that execution, I might regret it for the rest of my life. ”
And as Lory looked into his eyes, things started falling into place. That night in his bedroom—
“This isn’t the first time we’ve bonded.” She didn’t know how to phrase it differently, and Khayrivven seemed to understand without further explanation.
“I’ve tried to fight it, Lory, knowing that I’d take away your choice if I unleashed the full scope of my feelings on you, but that night, in my room, my control slipped, and—” He shook his head as if in self-reprimand. “And I accidentally claimed you.”
The golden string seeking to entwine with her heart made sense now, just like the gold-and-orange bond now connecting them made sense. Lory couldn’t see it in a physical form, but when she closed her eyes, it was there, glorious and strong and full of fire.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep such knowledge to yourself when you knew how I felt for you?
” I love you. Those three words she’d had no control over when in truth he’d been right all along.
Love wasn’t a strong enough word. Something much deeper, primal, and protective flared inside of her at the thought of ever losing him. Something not quite of this world.
Khayrivven lifted his gaze, not hiding the shame, the guilt, the emotions he never let anyone see—anyone but her.
“Because I was afraid.” A deep intake of breath as he pondered his next words.
“I was afraid of what you’d do if I told you I was fated to be with you.
What I’d do if you didn’t feel the same way, because love is fickle, Elory Vednis.
But being mated… Allowing myself to claim you like that—it’s the most selfish thing I’ve done in my life. ”
Mated. The word echoed in Lory’s head, and the breath she sucked in lodged in her throat. “All this time—”
“All this time,” he cut her off, “I’ve been fighting what the gods willed.
All this time, I’ve been keeping things casual enough to make it easy for you to get out if you so wished.
I should have stayed away from you from the beginning, should have fallen in love with someone else—a phantom perhaps, or another hand.
Should have kept the distance hierarchy demanded, but I’m weak, Lory.
I’m weak when it comes to you. Mate or no—one day, I keep telling myself, I will be strong enough to let you go.
But I’m not so sure anymore.” A sadness darkened his eyes, rain running from his soaked hair onto his brow and dripping onto his lashes, which formed two halves of a star around each eye.
His lips were wet, and his shirt plastered to his chest.
In a different world, she would have forgotten herself and kissed him, would have licked the rain from his jaw, his throat. Would have peeled that shirt off his skin. But this was here and now, and the sadness in his eyes was like a punch to the gut.
“What makes you think I ever wanted you to hold back?” No anger flickered inside her or sadness of her own, but a bone-deep disappointment.
“Who gave you the power to decide what’s best for me?
What’s best for both of us?” The bond glowed, invisible, yet she could see it as if it were a solid string between their chests.
He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps apologize or defend his choices, but Lory was faster. “Is it reversible?”
The expression on Khayrivven’s face nearly gutted her. “I don’t know. No one knows anymore. It’s been centuries, perhaps millennia, since the last pair of soul-bonded Flames walked these realms.”
When Lory said nothing, he amended. “Do you want it to be?”
Lory didn’t have an answer. Not now, when she was on her way to killing her first mark.
“Had you told me sooner, I might have had some time to consider whether it’s something I wanted.” Truth. And he knew it, too.
“I’m sorry.”
Lory just shook her head, lifting her hand and pulling his from her shoulder to lace their fingers together. “First, we finish the mission. Then, we figure out this mess.”
A mountain seemed to crumble from Khayrivven’s shoulders as she stepped closer, rose to her toes, and kissed him briefly on the corner of his mouth.
Entering the palace through the hidden door in the side of the rock it had been built upon made Lory feel like every bit the assassin she was supposed to be, but her hands shook as the door noiselessly slid shut behind them and they stood in the faint glow of a small torch, their clothes soaked and their hair dripping.
Lory had been looking forward to the rain, the smell of wet soil, the promise of life it carried with it. Instead, it was the harbinger of a death she was supposed to deliver.
“We’re under the basement of the palace.” Khayrivven gestured at a low door of blackened steel, similar to the ones at the Ward. “A few levels up, a ceremony for the Tears of the Gods is being held in the temple yard as we speak. No one will notice we’re already drenched when we arrive.”
He shoved a hand through his wet hair, sending a cascade of water down his neck.
“Are you ever going to tell me the name of my target?” Lory whispered as she followed Khayrivven along the corridor, stopping as the ceiling dipped toward the door. Khayrivven opened it with a touch of his hand. “Since when do you have the magic key to Ulder’s residence?”
With a shrug, Khayrivven ducked through the door, continuing along their darkening path. “Lenya keyed the door to me for the night.”
Mind-boggling, the details of what magic could do, the nuances of its power. Perhaps this was his entry ticket to get Elina out of the palace.
“Tonight is not the night. Lenya will be watching, and if either of us as much as gives the appearance that we’re not staying on target… Well, you know the consequences,” he responded to her thought, reminding her to keep her mind in check.
“Lenya will be watching?” She had trouble keeping her voice down.