Chapter 50
Fifty
Cara
When I knocked on Maura’s door, I could hear her storm across the room and fling it open. “Why are you hamm—Cara.” She softened from her irritation, just slightly.
“I don’t trust Fear to tell me the truth,” I told Maura. “So I need you to tell me what the true price is for breaking the bond.”
It had been an abrupt introduction to the conversation, but Maura took it in stride. “Is that what Fear offered you?”
“Yes. He told me it would cost him Shadowbane. Since Shadowbane and Lightbringer are bonded, severing his bond with Shadowbane would free me from the mate bond I have with Fear. Is that true?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “Fear would never shift again. He would no longer lead Bismyth. He would not be considered fit to rule without magic.”
Sudden anger welled up in me. “So he’s offering me a load of cow shit. He would never give that up. Give up Shadowbane? Give up Bismyth? Give up the throne?”
“It is hard to imagine he would make that sacrifice for anyone,” Maura said, but she looked troubled. “And Shadowbane…dragons sometimes return to the Dreaming, of course, if they are wounded beyond—”
“Are you telling me Shadowbane would die?” Horror washed through me. “To sever the bond?”
“In our world,” she corrected, but she did not sound as if that meant much to her. “He would return to the Dreaming.”
Was it true? I raked my fingers through my hair, feeling restless and furious and unable to completely decipher the source of my emotions.
“He told me he wouldn’t lie to me anymore, and then he offered me that in front of Anayla and Asrael.”
“He did?” Maura tugged absently on the end of a braid. “What if he meant it?”
“Then he’s insane. I wouldn’t let him make that kind of sacrifice for me.”
The ghost of Fear carrying me after I had tried to stab him rose up in my mind, rather accusingly. I had tried to sacrifice his life. Losing Shadowbane was less severe. And yet…I couldn’t imagine watching him lose Shadowbane.
“Does he think I’m a monster?” I fumed.
She hesitated, then stepped back, leaving the door open. It was as much of an invitation as I would get. When she retreated into her room, I followed.
“Is it that terrible being his wife?” She threw herself onto her bed with her usual careless grace and indicated the chair.
She cared for him; I was sure of that. There had been deep jealousy as well as protectiveness when she lashed out at me.
I paced. I could not sit.
“It is terrible that I did not choose him, and I am bound to him forever. I would not want to be bound forever to anyone, even if I chose them. Love doesn’t always last.” I had not realized how enraged I felt until I heard my voice.
Maura stroked a finger lovingly over the cover of the book beside her, as if I had interrupted something more important, but she said, “That is deeply jaded. I am almost impressed.”
“I watched what it did to my mother when my father died. She loved him, and he left her behind, and she was broken. And before that, my first father, Corbyn, loved her and still destroyed her. Love isn’t meant to last.” My words came out hot, and I almost spat, “I don’t want a fated mate!”
It was only when I’d finished that I understood she had goaded me into revealing what I hadn’t even known.
Maura was watching me with a look of barely contained judgment. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me, having someone who will love you all your life, someone you can trust and count on, so you never have to be alone.”
There was that word alone again—the one that had defined Fear’s life. “None of us are alone when we have our clans.”
“It is not the same thing. Believe me.”
I paused, remembering seeing Maura reunited with the clan earlier. “Everyone is glad to have you back.”
Her lips arched into a smirk. “I’m sure not everyone.”
“Well, Dairen is glad.” And he was the nicest of all Bismyth.
“And Fear?” She flipped idly through her book’s pages, as if she didn’t care. “How has Fear taken your decision to rule Bismyth?”
“We’ll find out.”
I possessed something many people—maybe even Maura—wanted, and I didn’t.
I’d apologized to Fear for being ungrateful when he had helped me with the enchantments.
But I didn’t think I was being ungrateful in struggling with fate.
“So. Any suggestions on how to handle Fear in a difficult conversation?”
She scoffed. “You’ve seen me botch a difficult conversation with Fear.”
“There was no way to make that conversation better. He had almost lost the chance to bring back Lightbringer.”
She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, and then because it was Maura, she gave up. “I am trying to be your mentor and to not treat you as if you’re a stupid little mortal girl.”
Clearly a struggle. I raised my eyebrows and beckoned for her to continue.
“But I do think—in this particular instance—you are being a stupid little mortal girl, not seeing how much he cares about you. Not Lightbringer. You.”
The words knocked me breathless. I paced again, disappointed by the size of Maura’s room. She watched me with a look that suggested I was testing her patience while I worked through my feelings.
I collapsed onto the chair opposite her bed. “The two of us are tied together. How can I ever trust that he actually loves me?”
“By not being stupid.” Maura delivered that verdict swiftly, as if she had been waiting for the opportunity to question my intelligence.
“Lightbringer hasn’t let you manifest her powers yet.
If she never does, do you think Fear is just going to abandon you somewhere?
Send you back to Stonehaven and move on? ”
I could not imagine Fear leaving me behind.
“Because he can’t love another either,” I reminded us both. “He is as trapped as I am. He went into it knowingly, and he sacrificed himself for the rebellion. He lost his chance of finding someone that he might’ve loved on his own.”
Maura gave me a look in lieu of calling me stupid again, but the look did the same work quite effectively. “Maybe it wasn’t a sacrifice for him. Have you thought of that?”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do with that thought. Then I found more solid ground. I needed her help for the plan I’d been slowly mulling. “I need your help with a gift.”
Maura sighed, but she looked for her bookmark. “You are going to make me earn this, aren’t you, mortal?”
I sought out Fear afterward. The common room was empty except for three Obsidian shifters grouped in the corner, debriefing after sealing a rip; they glanced up at me from where they sat by the enormous fireplace, the flames reflected on their faces, and I hurried up the stairs. I still wasn’t sure about Obsidian.
But as I was going up, I caught Maura stepping back. She had been watching from the shadows. She gave me a disgusted look, as if she were offended I had caught her being dedicated to my well-being, but she lingered until I went in the door of my room.
Fear looked up when I came in; he was at the desk, writing a letter. His gaze brightened when he saw me.
Could that be a lie? Could someone fake that flash of happiness?
“And here I was wondering how long you would avoid me. But which conversation are you avoiding?” He nudged the second chair in the room toward me with his foot and turned, giving me his full attention. Lucky me.
I rested my hands on the back of the chair. “Don’t be difficult.”
“Oh, I think you earned difficult today, Cara.”
I was in no mood for his cool amusement after what he had offered me. The entire situation with Maura seemed unimportant with Shadowbane’s ghost rising over us both. “I understand what breaking the bond would mean to you. How it would hurt you.”
He waited. Of course he did. What else was there to say? He had told me that he owed it to me, and perhaps he did. Even if he was willing to pay that cost, I could not imagine taking it from him.
“Do you really believe I could do that to you?”
“Losing Shadowbane seems far less severe than losing my life.” He said it with his signature combination of light amusement and lack of mercy.
Then he sobered, meeting my gaze. “And it is what I promised you, Cara. I tricked you into being by my side for eternity. That is…vile. Let our rebellion do its work, and then be free.”
“By then I might not want to be free.”
“You might not,” he agreed gently. “But you did not choose me, and you did not choose to be queen. I think, because I wanted these things so much, I thought it would be all right to force them on you.”
He leaned back, pensive. “I thought you would come to love me, and you would be glad of the power and of the throne, just as I have seen you come to love Bismyth. That doesn’t change what I did. I want to make it right, no matter the cost.”
I wasn’t ready to promise him a future as mates.
I wasn’t ready to reject it either.
But there was a version of the future for which I could vow.
“It was insane of me to try to kill you. Not just because it was wrong, but because it was delusional. I’ve been training for a couple of weeks. You’re you. The knife was always a longshot.”
His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, but he didn’t smile.
That was not what I meant to say. True though it was. “But I did hurt you. You had trusted me. To fight at your side, to watch your back. To my limited ability. And I used your trust.”
I thought of what he had been through, what he had suffered with his family, and how brave it was that he still could trust anyone at all. There was something resilient and fierce in the way he was able to love Bismyth. His friends. Perhaps even…me. Eventually.
“I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry. For making it harder to trust people. For not being worthy.” I had meant to say, “of that trust.” But I found myself stopping.
“I understand why you did it,” he told me.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I did.”
“No, it doesn’t. I understand that, to you, it has felt as if I hold all the power. When I am close to you…it does not feel that way to me at all.” He offered me a self-deprecating smile that I felt all the way to my soul.
I didn’t know how to respond. There was an answering ache in my chest. It had hurt to have him at a distance in private and to have him so affectionate in public. But I was never good with words. I was worse with feelings.
“I am sorry.” And then, too forcibly, too bluntly, I blurted out, “I miss having you call me Never.”
That startled him into a real smile. “I thought you hated that nickname.”
“I thought I hated it too.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “Maura gave me a gift with her apology. Two gifts, really. And you offered me a sacrifice in front of the people whose opinions you value most. You offered me a gift too. But I have very little to offer you.”
“It’s all right, Cara.”
“Whether or not you and I are husband and wife forever,” I said, “we’re still the best of allies. Bond or no bond. That will not change.”
He gave me a look as if he couldn’t quite believe it, as if I was once again misunderstanding the shifter world, but he nodded. I intended to make sure he was never alone in the world again.
“So I wanted to give you something to remind you that you’re not alone. Not as long as I’m alive, and I have a very protective husband and a completely demented bodyguard, so I think I will be alive for a very long time.”
He leaned forward. He hid his emotions so well, but I had learned to read him, and so I could tell from the way his eyes widened that he was surprised. “You don’t have to give me anything.”
“I know. But I am a part of Bismyth. And I am your wife. More than that, I wish to be your friend.” The word wife didn’t feel quite so strange on my tongue anymore. “I wanted to apologize, and I wanted to do it right.” That wasn’t quite right either.
Suddenly, I doubted the gesture. I had thought of other gifts. But this one had felt as if it would be right to him. “As you know, I own very little. What could I give you?”
“I need nothing.”
“I cannot promise I will be your fate. But I can promise I will always be your friend. I will always be here.” I pulled the neck of my tunic aside. Fear’s sigil, the dragon winding around the sword, stood in stark relief above my heart.
It was in the same place as Fear carried my sigil on his own skin.
For just a moment, he was unguarded. His gaze moved between the magic-made tattoo and my face, and for a moment what was exposed on his face was wonder.
“I could not bear you wearing my mark without wearing yours,” I told him. He would recognize his own words.
“Cara,” he said, as if he were lost. But not in darkness.
“I wanted you to know that you were safe with me. I’m not going to hurt you again. Never.”
He had recovered himself. He was smiling. But I had seen him undone for a moment, and I would carry that memory.
“I already know that, Never.” He pulled me into his arms and pressed a kiss to my temple, the affectionate way he had so many times recently, except this time there was no audience.
No audience, except for me.