But I don’t.
The truth is, despite everything, despite what he’s done and all he’s shown me, I don’t want to run from him. I don’t even want to evade his touch.
“Because we are mates, Gwen.”
That is all he says. A simple explanation, but I suppose it works.
He thinks that if he keeps parts of himself from me, surely I would discover who he really is after we consummated our union and the mating bond deepened.
He feared I would learn these things later and feel betrayed. He feared I would look at him differently. He even feared I would run.
Slowly, I lift my hand and place it over his heart. “I don’t think you’re cursed, Merak. And I don’t think the gods made a mistake when… when they chose to bind us as fated mates. You are still mine, and I am yours. I will not run, and I will not push you away. I want to keep seeing all of you, just as… I want you to see all of me.”
Through the bond, I feel his relief and his surprise.
“Gwen,” he says. “My dearest.”
He peers at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time… with the same intensity as when our eyes locked as I stood on the auction platform. That was the moment he realized I was his mate.
A warmth unlike anything I’ve felt before surges through the bond. He gathers me into his arms, holding me close, as the fire crackles quietly in the pit and the wind howls outside the cave.
Later, Merak cooks a simple meal over the fire while I sit wrapped in furs and watch him. We eat together beside the flames, and afterward he shows me a bathing alcove tucked deeper inside the cavern, along with a proper washroom that he constructed himself. He admits he built it for convenience in case he ever stayed here for a while... but also because he needed something to occupy his mind and keep his hands busy after losing his parents.
Once we are ready for bed, Merak takes me to the bedroll and pulls me against his chest beneath the fur blankets, wrapping his arms tightly around me.
He doesn’t try to claim me tonight, nor does he initiate any intimacies beyond a quick but soft kiss on my lips as he wishes me pleasant dreams. At first, I’m disappointed by what seemslike distance… but then I catch the glimmers of his thoughts that reveal his true intentions.
He doesn’t want to claim me until after King Theron has issued the decree that I am no longer a slave. He wants to give me the dignity of freedom, if only the notion of it, before he fully claims me as his and seals the bond between us forever.
My throat burns at the realization, and I snuggle deeper into his arms. For the first time since leaving Ellonnar, I feel as though I truly understand him, just as he understands me. And as sleep finally claims me, tucked safely in my mate’s arms, I realize I’m no longer afraid of what tomorrow might bring.
CHAPTER 18
MERAK
We reachthe Winter Court army on a cold, snowy afternoon. I keep Gwen bundled in her cloak, secure in my arms, as I head straight for King Theron’s tent. Soldiers stare at me as I walk by, but I pay them little mind. Instead, I notice the unusual stillness blanketing the camp.
Usually, the air carries darker sounds. The distant screams of tribute-cursed slaves being mishandled, the cries of prisoners enduring interrogation or punishment. But today, there is none of it. Only the crunch of boots in snow and the occasional murmur of voices. Unexpected peace.
Relief spreads through me, easing the tightness in my chest. I did not want Gwen witnessing such things. I did not want her exposed to more darkness, more reminders of the brutality of war and the uglier truths of camp life.
A guard tries to block my entrance when I reach the king’s tent.
I growl. “Move aside before I cut your throat with the tip of my wing,” I say, as I haven’t yet vanished my wings. “I have business with the king that cannot wait.”
The guard pales and exchanges a look with one of his comrades, another guard who stands nearby but isn’t foolish enough to step into my path.
Just as I prepare to growl again, King Theron emerges from his tent, a dark-haired human female at his side. Helena, I surmise. His mate.
The king glances between me and the pale-faced guard, a glimmer of dark amusement entering his eyes. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to barge past his guards. Usually, it means I’ve returned from a scouting mission with urgent news.
This time is different.
I have come to demand an official decree of freedom for my mate. A request the Winter King will no doubt find baffling, considering that I would never permit Gwen to leave me regardless.
King Theron’s gaze shifts past me, toward my mate.
His brows rise, then a slow smile spreads across his face as he meets my eyes again. “Welcome back to the Winter Court army, Lord Blackthorne. I am pleased by your return. I received your letter just two days ago, and my mate was heartened to learn you’d found Gwen.”
