I nod and let it go. I don't know what being mates entails, but it's clear that if we are, Conall doesn't want it. And I don't understand why I feel tight in the chest about it. It's not like my track record with partners has been great. I guess I just let myself believe, for a moment, that “mates” maybe meant someone who would care and wouldn't act like I'm a problem. I was clearly wrong.
So we're going to fix this spell, which will break the protection bond between Conall and me. He can get on with his life andI'll...
Well, I don't know what I'll do if I don't really have a mate and the city council kicks me off the island, but that's an issue for another day.
I slip into the bathroom to get dressed to try to fix an island even though I can't even fix my life.
Conall
She spoke to my hound.
My hands are curled into fists in my pockets, tight enough that my claws are digging into my palms, probably drawing blood. I know what that means. Of course I fucking know what that means.
We're walking down the road in the opposite direction from town. Laz's house is in the woods off the main road on a dirt path too narrow even for the horses. I glance sideways at Ivy. She's wearing a ruffled purple dress and walking shoes. Her curly brown hair keeps blowing back in the wind and her freckles look darker than ever, likely from all the time walking in the sun. Her eyes are downcast, not looking at me. I swallow hard.
It's easy to be angry in the moment. I've been waiting to be free of the Shipton bargain my entire life, and so had my father and his father before him. This arrangement with Ivy has become an extension of that. But Ivy isn't responsible for it. And if she's my mate...
Fuck. If she's my mate I'm blowing it.
"I'm sorry," I start, since it seems the best place to. She glances up through her lashes, her brown eyes meeting mine.
"I don't think there's anything to be sorry for," she replies, and goes back to looking at the woods.
I reach out, take her hand lightly, and pull her gently to a stop, turning her to face me. She looks directly at my chest. My fingers findthe little point of her chin and lift until she's looking at me. My hound sees her. My hound knows her. My hound could speak to her. That can only happen with one creature.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks softly.
"Like what?" I spread my fingers from her chin to the top of her throat, just holding. I can feel her pulse quickening under my fingertips.
"Like you want to eat me," she breathes, her body leaning a little closer, lips parted, breathing shallow. I lower my head fractionally, unable to hold the distance I've been maintaining with a white-knuckled grip.
"What if I do?" I say.
Her eyes darken, and I feel her throat work in a hard swallow under my fingers.
"Hey!" Laz's voice cuts through the trees in front of his house. He's standing on the doorstep, staring at us. I let go of her throat and take a deliberate step back. Separating even a foot from her has my hound going feral, but I lock it down. I have no right to her space unless she invites me. She sways but finds her footing, eyes fluttering.
I offer her my hand, heart pounding, convinced she won't take it. She looks at it for a moment before tentatively slipping hers in. Her skin is soft and cool, and I hold her fingers gently, afraid she might pull away.
It feels important until she says, "This is for the council, right? To keep up appearances?"
My heart sinks. But I manage to look away and gruff out a short "Yeah" before we walk up the dirt path to Laz's log tower.
Ivy
Conall’s hand around mine feels warm and quietly comforting, even if I know it’s only for appearances. Laz heads into his cabin as we go up the stairs, following him to the tower. The cauldron is cold today, no purple flames, but there are even more books scattered around than last time.
Laz taps the open one in the middle of his desk. It's a green leather-bound tome as big as my head and thick as my thigh. "A renewal spell," he says, confident.
Laz’s silver-gray hair falls in waves around his face instead of being tied up like usual, and his clothes look rumpled. He really does seem to be doing everything he can, even losing sleep, to fix this.
"A renewal spell doesn't make any sense," Conall says, leaning over the book without dropping my hand.
"It does when it's a renewal spell for the wards over the whole island." Laz looks at me. "All spells are blood-based in some form. Some only need a pinprick. Some require everything, your entire life force. Ursula Shipton was dying. She'd made the conscious decision to stop fueling her life force. I thought she was going to pass quietly, with dignity." He pauses. "Not Ursula. She went all at once on a large spell that took everything she had left. The result was that after she passed, the wards started to fail. I've been looking at destructive spells this whole time, harmful spells. But renewal spells are about reinforcingthe wards, updating them from their previous iteration, created over twenty years ago."
"So my aunt used all her blood, right before she was going to die anyway, to renew the island’s wards?" I say it out loud because I’m still not sure I believe it.
"Yes." Laz places a steady hand on my shoulder. Conall growls, low and dangerous. Laz's eyes narrow, but he removes his hand.
