On the eveof our departure, I find Gwen standing at the large window that faces the town. I don’t immediately allow my mind to brush against hers. Instead, I simply stand there, quietly observing as her eyes remain bright with wonder. She seems charmed by the enchanted lanterns that line the streets, and her lips twitch with a smile when a group of drunken faefolk stumbles by singing a bawdy tune.
When she glances over and notices me, her smile widens, and I finally lean into the bond, sending her warmth. Though she sends me a wave of affection in return, I frown when I sense the foreboding in her heart.
She’s worried about tomorrow and the days that will follow.
Because we are leaving Ellonnar to rejoin the Winter Court army.
Suppressing a growl, I drag a hand through my hair and almost start pacing. Her smile fades as she watches me. I know she’s sensed my inner conflict through the bond. Perhaps she’s even sensed the decision I’ve recently made.
“You don’t want to take me to the Winter Court’s war camp,” she says, walking closer. Her eyes widen. “But you feel you have no choice, because you plan to resign from the army entirely, and you want to tell King Theron of your decision in person. You don’t want to bring me with you, but you don’t want to leave me behind somewhere either.” She sends me another wave of affection through the bond.
Reaching out with one hand, I cup the side of her face. She leans into my touch with a soft sigh. A moment of tenderness and understanding passes between us.
“Yes,” I finally admit. “That is all true. Can you hear my specific thoughts, word for word, yet? Or are you only able to glean the general idea of them?”
“Just the general idea.” She places a hand over mine and turns her head into my palm, placing a kiss there.
I draw her closer, wrap her in my arms, and bury my face in her lavender-scented hair. My chest tightens. The next few days will be a challenge, one I hope our mating bond will survive. Never mind that we haven’t physically consummated the bond yet.
The dark things she might witness in the war camp…
An idea comes to mind, but I just as quickly sense her outrage when she detects it.
“No,” she says firmly. “You will not keep me blindfolded while we are in the war camp. Absolutely not. I deserve to see it for myself. I want to see how my people are being treated. And I want to visit with Helena and thank her for all she’s done for me.”
I study her face for a moment. “Very well. I won’t blindfold you.”
She lifts her chin. “I need to know something.”
“What is it?” I try to search her thoughts, but it would seem she’s blocking me from sensing whatever she wishes to know.Hmm. I don’t like that she can block me, but I can scarcely blame her for it.
“After we mate, will I still be considered your slave?”
A grin touches my lips.
“After we mate? Why, my dearest, it sounds as though you have decided to accept me as your mate. It sounds as though you agree that I should fully claim you and finish sealing the bond we share.”
Lifting her chin higher, she makes a noise that almost sounds like a growl. She narrows her eyes at me. “Answer my question.”
My hands drift back to her face, and I stare at her unblinkingly as I consider her question. She won’t like the answer, yet I must give her the truth. I sense her mind sifting through mine as she tries to learn the truth before I can formulate a response to her question, but I don’t let her in because I don’t trust that my thoughts aren’t racing, disorganized, and perhaps even too darkly possessive at this moment.
“Slave or not, my dearest, you know that I will never let you go. Does it really matter whether the realm still views you as one?” I eventually say, then kick myself for the note of exasperation that I’m unable to soften.
“It matters. I want to know whether I’m free. If I am considered a slave, your people will look down on me and perhaps even try to order me around. Treat me as though I’m nothing.” Tears gleam in her eyes. “I can only imagine the horrors that the tribute-cursed slaves in the war camp are enduring.”
My hold on her face tightens, my fingers digging into her cheeks. Anger surges through me. But my fury isn’t directed at her. I suppose it’s meant for the entire realm and how others might view her, especially my people.
“If anyone ever tried to order you around simply because you are a slave or they believe you are beneath them, I would cut off their head and present it to you on a silver platter.” I’m being dramatic, I know it, she knows it, the bird that’s sleeping near the hearth again probably knows it, and yet I really would kill anyone who dared to make her feel less than.
“So that means I’ll still be considered your slave?” She gives a bitter scoff. “Your slave and your mate, all in one. How lucky I am. Perhaps you should keep me in shackles.”
I growl. “Don’t tempt me, my dearest.”
She pushes away from me. I drop my hands from her face, allowing her the space she needs. Gods. What am I doing? Why am I reluctant to give her what she wants?
“Holy fires, Gwen.” I drag a hand through my hair and start pacing. Agitation ripples through me. “You are mine. You will always be mine.”
“I haven’t agreed to mate with you yet,” she says, even though we both know that’s not quite true. She wants me, I can sense it, but she wishes to wait until we know one another a little better before she allows me to claim her.
