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A new sensation suddenly passed through me, like a cool and comforting hand stroking the beast in my mind, calming it, murmuring words without sound to reduce its rage. I tensed, startled, and at my reaction, the sensation paused as well.
My eyes darted to Gwyneira. At my glance, a flicker of fear passed through her gaze for the first time since we set foot in this place.
The mate bond.
At the realization, gratitude and wonder and a white-hot burning feeling filled me—the last of which took me a moment to place.
Love.
Love for her, for this, for what she’d been doing even though, of the two of us, reaching through that bond should have been more natural for me than it ever could have felt for her. But nevertheless, here she was, surrounded by potential enemies and countless humans filled with fear, and still she sought to comfort me.
A tiny smile lifted the corner of her lips. She’d picked up what I was feeling now, and her pleasure at it was like a brush of sunlight across my mind.
The cool, comforting sensation of a calming hand upon my beast’s fur returned.
A shudder rolled through me as my tension eased. It was by no means gone—it wouldn’t be until we were far from this place and my mate was safe somewhere, preferably with my cock buried deep inside her—but I could think more clearly now than I had in quite some time.
Gods, I would never cease to be filled by awe at this. At her. At the bond she’d accepted between us and at the reality of how it felt to be connected to her in this way. None of the stories I’d heard did it justice, when they weren’t just flat-out wrong. No, I wasn’t a shifter like those in the tales I’d managed to overhear on my travels. Humans around campfires made shifters sound like people who donned animal skins and howled at the moon because they were insane. Meanwhile, on one of the rare occasions when a traveling merchant had managed to cage me for a short time, he’d only spun tales of horror, rhapsodizing to the crowds who came to see the “monster” about all the madness and nightmarish torments I’d inflict upon a mate.
Yet deep inside, my instincts had whispered something else. Something that turned to a roar of need when I met Gwyneira. Something that swore the bond wasn’t terrible, no matter what those people claimed.
I’d been just enough of a bastard not to resist that call, and now, I’d worship my beautiful mate every day in gratitude that she gave me this wondrous gift.
Her smile remained as she turned her attention back to the crowds and the castle we now approached, and resolutely, I did the same. The structure wasn’t as large as the one in Aneira, but in the eyes of humans who enjoyed building stone boxes to live within, I supposed it was grand. It stood inside a smaller wall of its own, a last line of defense against anyone who breached the outer wall of the city. Enormous blocks of granite formed its sides, stretching up three stories with vertical slits for windows higher up, likely so as to offer opportunities to shoot at invaders along with some measure of air circulation and daylight. The roof was gray slate barely darker than the stone itself, and all the color came from the bright blue banners hanging on the walls. White thread embroidery gleamed in the sunlight on each, the patterns alternating between the royal tree of Aneira and a scythe and shepherd’s crook that were likely the symbols of this rural province.
That the latter two were also weapons didn’t escape my notice.
The dark wooden gates of the castle swung open as we approached, and servants hurried outside, eyeing us curiously but with remarkably less fear than I’d seen on most of the armed people in the city. Perhaps they assumed that, since we’d made it this far with an escort, we were meant to be here.
Perhaps it was a trick to get us to let down our guard.
Although the soothing sensations from Gwyneira continued, I could tell she was on edge too as we trailed the servants into the castle. How this would all go was unknown, from whether this Lord Thomas would actually help her on down to what aid a bunch of scared humans could even be against anyone who tried to stop Gwyneira from taking back her throne.
My beast pushed at me again, determined to handle any threat against my mate with my claws and my fangs. And gods, it was tempting.
Except even that wasn’t enough to stop the Voidborn.
Another shudder passed through me. There were too many threats to her. Too many, and alone, I wouldn’t be enough to stop them all. Even with the help of these men with whom my beast and I shared her, we couldn’t fight a war on two fronts.
We needed the humans.
Gods, how that rankled.
“This way, please,” said an elderly man with short-cropped white hair and wrinkled skin so pale as to be nearly translucent. He wore black livery trimmed in the same shade of bright blue as on the banners, and though his back was stooped by age, he still bore an aura of command, as if he was the alpha of this domain.
He cast short glances back at us as we followed him through the dark entryway. I bit back the urge to snarl when it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the shadowy interior of the castle after the bright daylight outside.
“My name is Forian,” he said as he walked. “Head of household matters. I’ve served his lordship’s family for over seventy-five years. Anything you require, please ask and, as long as it is within the realm of his lordship’s wishes, I’ll see it done.”
“Thank you,” Gwyneira replied.
He bowed his head without ever breaking stride. “You will wait for his lordship in the south library. Lord Thomas recalled you enjoyed reading, Princess Gwyneira. He thought it would be a pleasant place to speak privately.”
My eyes narrowed. Was this another trick to make us relax our guard? Take us unawares?
Never mind that I wasn’t comfortable with books. Or reading. Or all the squiggly shapes like spiders on a page.
I didn’t care for spiders, and thus I didn’t care for books.
