Chapter 17 #2
“Rise and shine,” I coo, making sure he can feel it. Only when his eyes fly open, his instincts good enough that he goes statue-still again before he can impale himself on my sword, do I give him a wry smile and add: “Thandriel.”
Thane gapes. Is it the name? Is the swords? Is it the fierce look in my glowing golden eyes as I glare down at him with nothing like love as I did last night?
All three, I decide as his eyes narrow, though his body stays motionless.
“Alana—”
I dig the sword a little deeper. A dot of gold blood appears at the tip, trickling down the side of his thick neck. Just so he knows I’m fucking serious.
He gulps.
“I wouldn’t recommend doing that,” I scoff.
He tries again. “If this is about last night—”
I don’t want to think about last night. “Hush, Thandriel.”
His eyes flash, a mixture of defiance and despair. “So you do know that name.”
Oh, Thane, I know everything.
Last night, my first instinct had been to wake him up, accuse him of finding a way to fool me even without being able to lie, and, okay, cry. I wanted to cry. That’s what humans do. They get angry and they cry sometimes, and when they’re made of Shannon Crewes’s essence, they get angry.
I was angry.
But despite all evidence to the alternative, I can be practical; or, rather, I can make a plan.
That’s what I did. Though it hurt more than it should’ve to stay where I was, curled up on Thane’s chest, I didn’t move.
Didn’t sleep, either. Instead, I opened myself and our bound up enough to learn what I needed to about this male before I did confront him.
I had to be careful. I’m only twenty-five. He’s existed six times as long as I have. He has the memories to prove it. I didn’t want to be overloaded by them, so I only searched for what was necessary.
I discovered that he had every intention of selling me to the slavers if I wasn’t the shadow demoness of the Prophecy.
If I was? He was bringing me to Queen Celeste himself.
I don’t know what he did to owe her such a debt, but he was convinced that she’d free him from any obligation if he handed me over to her on a gold platter.
What he said last night to me… that he was drawn to me from the beginning… that was true. Right around the midpoint of our journey through the Shadowed Woods, he’d changed his mind. He decided I was his, but that didn’t change the fact that I was determined to find Rafe and rescue him.
Especially since Thane was the fae who arranged him to be sent straight to the queen to help with his debt…
That’s not all I learned, though. Like all fae, Thane Aurex is his chosen name, the one he gives so that his true name is guarded.
I’m not so sure what a true name can be used for.
It’s enough that fae refuse to reveal them, yet one bonus of having his essence is that I know what to call him to catch his attention.
And I need to. Because, beyond how much it pains me to know that he so cleverly concealed his role in Rafe’s abduction, I learned one little detail in my dive into his essence before I shut the door on that, too.
He’s lucky I didn’t follow his example and just take his head. For the sake of our mate bond, and because his essence makes it clear that he does care for me, I decide to let him attempt to explain himself.
After that, though? To borrow a Human phrase from Mom: all bets are off.
I lift the sword so that I don’t accidentally—or, okay, not-so-accidentally—stab him. “Talk.”
“I—”
Nope. “I’ll start. I know more than just your name, Thandriel. I know about Rafe.”
His face shadows over. “Alana—”
Still not ready. “You sent him to her. While I’ve been so afraid of what was happening to him, you knew… you knew because you saw him with the slavers and you recognized the same shadow magic that Queen Celeste used to make the Shadowed Woods. You stole him and you gave him to her.”
Thane doesn’t deny it. How can he? I’m doing everything to cut off our bond so that his emotions for me don’t sway my heart when my head really, really wants to lop off his, but what’s done is done. He has my essence. If he’s figured out how to access it, he knows how I know.
He stays on his back, though he juts his chin just enough to draw attention to the healing cut on his throat.
“I did. Is that what you need to hear? Your Rafe was incredibly valuable. A demon with shadow magic? Celeste would pay dearly, and I never want you to forget who you mated, Alana. I’m a bandit, and—”
My sword is right back at his throat. “Don’t you remind me who I mated, Thandriel. I know who I mated.” I tap my temple. “I know more than I wanted to. And you dare try to justify what you did?”
Thane pushes his skin into the point.
“Do it,” he says hoarsely. “If that’s what you need. I don’t blame you one bit. I never wanted to hurt you. So do it so that I can’t again.”
My hands are shaking, though not bad enough that the sword isn’t steady in my grasp.
“You watched as they enslaved him,” I whisper. “You allowed him to be put in chains for your precious gold. And then, even after you helped me, after you told me where to find him because you knew… you never warned me that it was to your benefit.”
“For gold, yes. For my benefit, always. But for freedom, too. For my freedom.”
“Because you owe the queen a debt.”
“Because Celeste owns my life! Gold. I don’t want gold. She does. Until I can pay her my weight in gold, I can never be free, Alana.” Thane leans his head back, smacking it into the ground even as another slice appears on his skin. “All I wanted was to be free… and then I met you and—”
I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. “And then you mated me.” My voice shakes, but I forced myself to get this next part out. “You bound yourself to me while promised to another female,” I accuse him. “You gave me your heart knowing you were betrothed.”
Because that’s what I saw. A beautiful fae woman in a white dress threaded with gold.
She’s everything I’m not. No horns, no claws, no butterflies…
she has poise and grace, and it doesn’t matter that all of Thane’s emotions toward Fiona tend toward frustration, hatred, and refusal, he agreed to the betrothal once… and then he bonded himself to me.
His face goes slack, as though he hoped I wouldn’t see that tucked in his memories and he doesn’t know how to react now that I have. I wait, and he closes his eyes.
“That betrothal was politics,” he rasps out. “What happened between us—”
“Was real,” I cut in. “That’s the problem. You lied to me.”
His jaw tightens as his eyes spring open. He’s still at the mercy of my sword, but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “I never said I was honest. I just confirmed that fae can’t lie when you asked.”
My mouth falls open at his fae audacity. I mean, he’s not wrong. If I believed he was being truthful all the time just because fae can’t lie… that was my fault. It’s like acting Binx to be a faripoz when he’s an ungez. Thane is fae.
I should’ve remembered that.
Next time, I will.