I kneel beside her chair, taking her hand. Too much, too fast. I've had so many years to understand this world, and I'm forcing her to absorb it all in days. Not even that. Hours. Minutes.
"It's a lot to take in, I know." The words feel inadequate even as I say them.
"That's the understatement of the millennium," she says with a weak laugh. "Which apparently is a timeframe I now need to consider."
"You'll adjust," I assure her, my thumb tracing circles on her palm. "And you won't be alone." The thought of spending lifetimes with her fills me with a joy I didn't think possible after so many years without a partner.
She meets my eyes, something vulnerable in her gaze. "Promise?"
"I promise." I squeeze her hand, pouring every ounce of certainty I possess into those two words and through our bond. "Wolves mate for life, Astrid. And our lives are very long indeed."
She's quiet for a moment. "Does this mean I'll still look thirty-three when I'm a hundred and fifty?"
"More or less," I say with a smile. "Aging slows considerably. You'll change, but very gradually."
"Well," she says with forced lightness, "at least I don't have to worry about anti-aging creams anymore."
I chuckle, relieved to see her humor returning. "There are benefits."
She shakes her head, still looking somewhat dazed. "I am not going to meet a thousand-year-old Siren queen while looking like this. I need a bath. And clothes."
"You'll do fine," I assure her.
"You think there's a traitor in her ranks."
"It's really the only explanation," I say. "Or it’s Nimue herself. The sirens claim to support the Knights, but they have been on a mission to save the soulmate magick that was broken nearly five centuries ago."
“Soulmate magick?”
“The sirens were matchmakers. You would go to them to receive a blessing and a dream that would show you your soulmate.”
“But you don’t anymore? I feel like there’s a story there.”
“A long one. One I will tell you soon.”
"Can Nimue be trusted at all?"
"Nimue keeps her word,” I answer. “But she's selective about what she promises. Never assume she's told you the whole truth. Assume she’s left herself a loophole somewhere."
"Great," Astrid mutters. "A manipulative, thousand-year-old sea witch who may or may not be plotting against us.”
"She's not a witch," I correct.
"Not the point, Fen." She rubs her temples. "How am I supposed to navigate all this? I was a GUIDE agent a week ago. Now I'm some kind of semi-immortal wolf-woman about to play political chess with thousand-year-old beings."
I rise and move behind her chair, placing my hands on her shoulders. "You're still you, Astrid. That's what matters. Your instincts, your intelligence. Those haven't changed. Trust them."
She leans back against me with a sigh. "Five hundred years old," she says, shaking her head. "I bet you've seen some things."
"I have," I acknowledge. "And now we'll see many more. Together."
The servants return briefly, announcing that our bath is ready in the next room.
In the adjoining chamber, a large copper tub steams invitingly, scented oils floating on the water's surface. Once we're alone again, I help Astrid remove her cloak, letting my fingers trail across her skin as the heavy fabric falls away.
"We should hurry," she says, though her voice has grown husky. "Your grandmother can only keep Nimue waiting so long."
Her words say hurry, but her body says something else entirely. The pulse at her throat quickens beneath my gaze.
