“How can it be?”
“What kind of bond?” a woman asks, louder than the rest.
I’d like to know the same thing.
Evelyn’s Mark shines brighter, and violet ribbons wreathe her fingers. “A special one.” She speaks slowly, selecting each word with care. “Fated by the gods themselves, this bond links him to the Blessed.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then chaos erupts.
18
FATED
GABRIEL
Shouts rise all around me, but they might as well be in another language. All I can hear are those four words cycling through my mind on repeat. They swirl around me, faster and faster, until each word is a clap of thunder in my mind.
Fated.
By.
The.
Gods.
Bound together by a force larger than ourselves, a bond that predestined us both. Radiant suns save me. It feels like a curtain has been ripped away inside me, revealing a truth that has been there all along.
Thatthinginside me hums frantically, as if sayingYes. This.This.It’s why you need Wren. Why you’re drawn to her. Why she’syours.
I should’ve known. I should’ve figured it out the moment I first looked into her violet eyes and she peered back into my soul.
Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together earlier. Grandmother used to tell stories about fated connections that bound people together, threads of destiny woven into thetapestry of their lives. But like the dragons in my nightmares, I’d always assumed they were stories of times long gone. Myths. Legends of old, nothing more.
How many of Grandmother’s other stories are real? How many were warnings, premonitions of what was to come? I’m not sure, and honestly, I can’t think too hard about it. Not right now when I have a gods-damned fated mate.
Wren is still on the other side of the room, eyes locked on me. Why is she so far away? Every inch separating us suddenly feels like a mile, and the council chamber is a canyon keeping us apart.
I take a step towards her, needing to get closer. A sharp yank on the chains reminds me that bond or not I’m still a prisoner. Unwilling to waste another second, I turn towards the one person who might help me. Alaric’s face is stony, but his eyes are soft, and there’s the barest hint of compassion in them.
“Please,” I say desperately. “I have to get closer to her.”
I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything.
His eyes sweep over mine. “She really means something to you, doesn’t she?”
“She ismine.” The claiming words tumble from my lips. The moment I say them, something is righted in the depth of my being. As if a part of myself has been out of place since birth, but now it’s fixed.
Alaric inclines his head and studies me before saying, “All right. I’ll take you.” Hector makes a sound of displeasure, but the captain shoots him a look. “Enough. The Hunter is not armed. Besides, you heard the seer. He is bound to the Blessed woman, and who are you to fight against the hands of fate?”
“I—”
“You are a good soldier,” Alaric says, shaking his head. “But I have made my decision.”
Hector mumbles a curse under his breath, but he doesn’t put up any more of a fight as we cross the room. We’re halfway across the space when Wren releases the chair she’d been holding. No one stops her as she runs towards me.
My chains slacken, and I look over my shoulder to see Alaric pulling his guards back a few steps. The illusion of privacy is appreciated, and I make a mental note to thank the man later, soldier-to-soldier.
Wren flings her arms around me, and I grunt. “Careful, Birdie.”
