Earlier, her thoughts were unguarded enough that I was able to glimpse the truth that brims in her heart, the truth she suddenly wishes to suppress.
“Even if you never agreed, I still wouldn’t let you go,” I say quietly.
Silence falls between us.
She stares at me with a boldness that I cannot help but admire, and little by little, my agitation begins to fade. Something shifts through the bond, an emotion that feels like my heart is being stabbed. But the emotion is hers, not mine.
Hurt.
Not outrage or anger… but hurt.
Gods.
I finally understand. This isn’t about whether she has the option to leave me. Not really. It’s about dignity and fear. It’s about how the realm sees her… and perhaps how she sees herself.
I stop pacing and turn toward her.
“My dearest,” I say softly. I move closer to her. “I think… I-I understand.”
She watches me warily, though she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move, not even to draw a breath. She’s waiting. Waiting for me to come to my senses.
I slowly reach for her hand, and she allows me to take it. I lace my fingers through hers and draw her closer. She finally exhales a shaky breath. She stares up at me with her soulful eyes gleaming with tears, her jaw clenched tight, her demeanor proud yet vulnerable.
“Once we arrive at the war camp, I will speak with King Theron.” I squeeze her hand. “I will ask him to issue an official decree declaring your freedom, and you will no longer be considered a tribute-cursed slave or a slave purchased from an auction platform.”
Her eyes widen, and she blinks fast.
“Truly?” she asks in a breathless rush.
“Yes. Truly.” I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “No one will be permitted to call you a slave, not in the war camp, and not in any other part of the realm. No one will question your status.”
Hope flickers across her face.
I lean closer.
“But make no mistake, my dearest.” I place a finger beneath her chin as a growl rumbles through my chest. “You are not going anywhere. Your place is with me.”
I rest my forehead against hers and delve my hands into her hair, tightening my grip on her locks perhaps a bit harder than necessary.
“You are my mate.” My voice lowers. “You are my destiny.”
After a moment, I pull back and look at her, waiting for her response. Tension coils in my muscles. If she rejects me after this, if she announces that she no longer wishes to consummate our union, I am not certain how I will respond. In truth, I am afraid of what might be unleashed if she refuses me.
For a heartbeat, she stares at me. Then, to my surprise, a tiny smile quivers at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s a deal,” she finally says.
My heart lifts at her words, and yet a dark chuckle sounds in my throat. Because I cannot help but tease her. Perhaps it is the darker part of me, the part descended from the Unseelie, the part of me that she once feared.
I cup her face, brushing my thumbs along her cheeks—tenderly, softly, but also… possessively.
“Oh, my dearest, hasn’t anyone ever told you how dangerous it is to make deals with the fae?”
Her eyes widen further, and she draws in a sharp breath.
Before she can respond, I press my lips to hers.
CHAPTER 17
