Solena nods without hesitation. “Ifyousee the threads, then he must too. I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything.”
Her eyes drift to my neck again, but not to the rune this time.
“Or,” she adds, tone sharpening, “why he hasn’t bitten you.”
My brow shoots up. “Come again?”
A ghost of a smirk curls Solena’s lip as she parts them, and I spy her canines, just slightly longer now.
“It’s a remnant of the old ways,” she says. “A primal trait, a mark of the Vornahl still buried in our blood. When we find our mate, we bite. Not out of cruelty, but instinct. It marks them. Claims them. The taste of their blood, the imprint of our teeth, it links us. Strengthens the threads. Affirms the bond. And it has… benefits.”
“Benefits?” I echo.
“Your mate can track you. Sense you more clearly. Feel your distress across great distances and others, especially other Fae, willknow. No one touches what’s already claimed without consequences.”
The words sink into me slowly, heavy and disorienting. “Daed never told me any of this.”
My eyes flick to Solena’s neck, and I lean slightly, curiosity catching hold. “Do you have one? The bite. Does it hurt?”
In a swift motion, she pulls her hair over her shoulder, concealing the place I’d looked. Her expression hardens.
“Orios hasn’t bitten me.”
“Why not?” I ask, the idea striking me as almost laughable. If any two people embodied the Binds of Fate, it was Solena and Orios.
But then I see the hard swallow in her throat, the way her eyes drop to the floor, the faint tremble in her shoulders.
“Orios is not my mate,” she says quietly.
Well, now I’m confused. How does that make sense? She speaks again before I can voice it.
“He is my love. My heart. I would spend today, tomorrow, and every day after with him. I’d be his wife if he asked. I’d bear his children, if we were so lucky.” Her voice catches. “But there are no threads that tie us. No binds carved by fate. We are in love, but not mated.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
She waves away my awkward apology. “You didn’t know. It’s fine.”
But the ache in her voice says it isn’t.
A question rises unbidden. “What happens if… someday… youdomeet your mate? What then?”
Solena lifts her chin, noble and proud as ever, and offers a smile, not bright, not full of joy, but steady. Resigned.
“I would hope our love would be enough to keep us to each other,” she says.
But the words ring hollow. Her voice quivers at the edges. And when she finishes speaking, her lower lip trembles, betraying everything her pride tries to conceal.
I start to answer, to offer the comfort she so often gives me, but I don’t get the chance.
The door crashes open.
Wind howls through the room, catching in my daughter’s dark curls. Her face scrunches, her mouth opens, and a startled cry bursts from her throat.
Ashen is on his feet in a blink, a snarl erupting from his chest. His teeth flash, his eyes blaze white-hot, and his body shudders as it grows, larger, broader, a shadow-forged beast trembling with barely leashed fury. The bed groans under his sudden weight.
Zyphoro stands in the doorway, unbothered, her brows arched in mild annoyance. “Alright, I’msorry,” she says dryly, shoulders rising in a theatrical shrug. She steps inside and closes the door with exaggerated care, making a show of how softly it clicks shut. “Happy now?”
Ashen growls, a low sound that vibrates the floor. His lips curl back, glistening canines bared. Then, with a great exhale, he turns his head toward the crib. He lowers his massive snout and gently nudges my daughter’s brow.
