Chapter 22
It is important not to dwell on the reality beginning to settle in.
The reality that the prince and I have, impossibly, become a mated pair. Bound by the blessing of Aldorin, the goddess of our people. Forced to experience each other’s pain and love in ways only lovers can.
But…how can a bond between an elf and a human even be possible?
It goes against nature, against reason. Our blood doesn’t mix, and yet, as soon as the branding had started, I knew Ramiel was near.
As though the magic cast upon us told me it was him.
Proximity is all it takes for the blessing to run its course, stamping us for eternity with its magical mark.
A mark that should’ve never graced my skin, not unless I met my equal.
Which Ramiel is not.
Definitely not.
Sitting eye to eye with the prince now, it’s clear he has no idea what he has done. His expression is blank save for the terror at his reaction to me. I imagine his thoughts are as invasive as my own, if not worse.
Why do the gods have the absolute worst timing?
What’s more, now that the tallup’s eluviam is resonating with my own, refilling my magic supply, I sense another magical presence…
I arch a brow at Ramiel, who is gawking at me with flushed cheeks.
Aldorin help me. I have to tell him what this means or else he’s going to think he’s actually fallen in love with me.
But every time his gaze bores into mine, it feels like he is trying to unravel me, to dig past the walls I’ve spent years building to prevent this exact curse from happening. And the worst part? The traitorous part of me—where the mark sinks its teeth into my heart—wants him to succeed.
The feeling tugs at me, and for a moment, I let it.
I study the bright green of his eyes, the tense angle of his jaw, the indent near his mouth that usually appears when he cracks a wide grin.
His thick eyebrows squish together over his bronze skin, and sweat mats the curls of his brown hair to his forehead.
A jolt in my arm nearly forces me to brush a particularly unruly curl from his face. I stiffen it at my side and frown. Resisting, I’m finding, is very uncomfortable.
But I know better than anyone how artificial, forced, and disgusting the cursed blessing is.
My past lover had felt a pull to his mate, and though he’d been briefly apologetic, I know he didn’t feel anything for me once he met his fated match.
If he’d never met her, he might still be with me.
I might have never worked as hard as I did to become the woman I am today.
We might have had children. We might have?—
Life shouldn’t be lived on “might haves” or “should haves.” There is only what we do and what we have done.
And yet, everything I’ve done until now feels purposeless.
As I continue to resist, the pull to reach for him only grows stronger. But I stay still, clearing my throat. “You’ve returned unscathed. That’s…good.”
Ramiel’s emerald eyes shift in the light, and he grins, apparently pleased I’m unable to keep my voice even.
The thoughts creeping at the edges of my consciousness, sending waves of heat to my fingertips, are not my own. I know it’s all false and none of it real, yet I cannot deny the sizzle of passion in the air between us—tactile, real.
I find it difficult to resist peeking at the dimpled skin to the left of his mouth, but it disappears as he frowns and reaches for my arm. I flinch at his touch, but a wave of warmth washes over me. He turns my wrist over gently and points accusingly at the identical mark on my skin.
With a breathy laugh that feels awkward and foreign in my throat, I pull my arm away defensively. His expression is graver than I have ever seen it, and I shudder to think of how closely it resembles his father’s stoicism.
“Why do I smell magic on you? And how can this,” I gesture to our matching marks, “be possible?”
He raises his brows and laughs once, unamused.
“I somehow have magic now, like you. I can’t explain why, it just…
appeared.” He puts a hand on one knee and stands, then helps me up too.
I ignore him, though my insides twist at his responding grimace.
“If you don’t know what this mark is, how am I to know how it’s possible we have the same one or not? ”
I squeeze my eyes shut, massaging the bridge of my nose with two fingers.
He doesn’t know what the bond is at all. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he? It is another curse, disguised as a blessing. He hadn’t known about the way our eyes shift when our emotions change. What more is the prince unaware of? What more will I have to explain to him?
Teaching moment , my thoughts tease. A whisper. A reminder.
“Magic doesn’t simply appear,” I start. No, there must be a reason for this. A reason why Ramiel cannot ascend the throne, according to his father. A reason why, despite my best efforts, he has become irreversibly connected to me for life. A reason why he has magic now. A reason…
Ramiel’s warm hand cups my cheek, ripping me from my thoughts. Scorching heat pulses under my skin as his touch remains.
His nose and cheeks have reddened, his smoldering eyes angled down at me.
He brushes a thumb over my cheek.
“This is infuriating.” His jaw tenses as he watches his fingers.
All I can feel is the heat blaring between us.
My knees buckle. My thoughts garble. “Tell me, Ether, why am I all of a sudden completely undone by you? I have forgotten everything else. Even this”—his gaze sears down at his hand as it presses to the curve of my face—“is driving me mad.”
My breath hitches in my throat, but I focus on keeping my heart at its normal pace. I do my best to ignore the heat simmering beneath his hand.
As he speaks, I realize he does have magic, and it expands from him to wrap me in a protective, warm embrace.
Cocooning me within a quiet haven, it hums comfortingly in the recesses of my mind.
Horrifically, I realize the thread of magic within me has already gathered itself with the poisonous magic of the bond, and is now rising to meet his, to tether me to him against my will.
I’d cut the thread if I could, if I knew it wouldn’t feel like severing a piece of myself.
Instead, I stop breathing, stop trying to reason with the ancient magic throbbing between us, and push his hand away. Doing so tears something inside of me. A ripping as painful as a physical wound. Possibly worse.
He also seems to be thrown from his trance when I do this, because embarrassment and shame cross over him like a shadow. His face scrunches in discomfort.
“I owe you an explanation,” I say, pressing my lips together.
His jaw tenses, his eyes serious. “Somehow, the goddess Aldorin has graciously given us her blessing, and now we are mated.” I don’t meet his eyes as I speak, afraid I’ll lose control of my composure.
With the mark freshly branded on our arms, we are at our most susceptible to…
temptation right now. But after a moment, when I feel my heart slow, I risk a smile.
Ramiel blinks at me, and at first, I think he’s taken the news well.
But who would respond cordially to such a truth?
“M-m-mated?”
I have to hold in the laugh hanging in my nose.
He doesn’t seem mad, at least. More embarrassed and incredulous. The bond may seduce us into action, but it doesn’t erase the shame accompanying those actions. Every brush, touch, bump… I can see the embarrassment reddening his features.
“Yes, but don’t worry. The effects will only be this strong if you give in to them,” I say calmly.
But I know better than anyone that the bond is a double-edged sword, worsened by proximity and cured by touch.
We will have to be near one another in order for the bond to be satiated.
And that is going to take a wild amount of control.
Instead of telling him this, I smile and place a hand on his shoulder to send the message.
Both of our bodies instantly relax because the decision to touch him was mine alone.
“Now, take a deep breath. We can get through this. I’m sure there are ways around it.
Once we finish your training, we will part ways.
The mark will fade with time, along with our desire to be near one another,” I mumble, mostly to myself.
But I can tell he’s heard every word, his forehead crinkling over thoughtful green eyes.
While he’s lost in thought, the lie hangs in my throat, making my eyes water.
There is no escaping the mating bond. But I’m not sure telling him the truth will improve his morale.
Not when I have a trial to put him through.
For the kingdom.
For my people.
I’ve brought him to the training grounds to fulfill my obligation to the king, to ensure Ramiel fails his duel at the Feast of Undying.
I won’t let this blessing get in the way of it.
Though if I’m being honest, it does complicate things.
I remove my knife from my thigh, feeling the weight of it. The comfort it brings me. And I transfer just a little of the energy from the tallup into it. It hums, warming in my palm before a dull light within flickers red, then fades.
Just in case things go south , I tell myself.
Ramiel huffs a frustrated breath. “You act as though you are unaffected by this…this blessing . How can I focus when it, it?—”
I press the crooked tip of my blade to his lips.
He gulps.
“Focus on not dying instead,” I say sharply, sheathing the knife against my thigh.
“My energy is at its highest right now. You seem to have much of it, yourself.” I look him over, trying to ignore the way his tunic splits down his front, revealing a sliver of tanned skin.
His neck prickles with sweat. But I stand my ground, mentally choking the energy flowing from my arm.
“Follow me. We will begin your training now.”