Myles takes my hands in his. “Yes, it was.” He springs back as I go to push his shoulder, laughing, he continues, “Trust me, if you hadn’t stuttered when you did, my body would have crumbled before you. I was so nervous, my legs were shaking, and I wasn’t sure they would keep me upright. Then youstumbled over your words, and I saw you were just as nervous as I was.”
I stroke my hand over his cheek.
Elana’s eyes widen, her hands flailing around, nearly hitting Wyatt in the face. “What if?” she squeals, “What if you two are mates?” She pulls her hands up to her face to hide her growing smile.
“Come on, El. This isn’t one of your stories. Mates are a myth.” Elana’s face drops, her doe eyes begin to well. “El, you're almost an adult now, you know that fairy tale endings aren’t real. Have you ever heard of anyone being mated?”
“Actually,” Mum interrupts Elana’s sobs, “it’s rare, but I have met a mated couple. Many years ago.”
Elana’s pleading eyes look to Mum, a silent prayer that everything she has grown up believing in isn’t a lie.
“A mating bond is not something to be taken lightly. It’s said that once they have met, the bond solidifies, making it impossible to fight. That being separated from each other is pure agony.”
Maybe I’m too much of a cynic to hope for happily ever after.
Myles rests his arm on the back of my chair, and I lean into the nook.
Mum holds up her glass. “Mating bond or not. I think you are perfect for each other. I wish you many years of happiness.”
“Thank you very much, Mrs Kohan, for a fantastic evening.”
Myles holds out his hand to Mum. She stares at him, but instead of taking his hand, she wraps her arms around him, stretching up on her tiptoes. Myles' eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull away. Elana and I stare at each other in astonishment, and my jaw hits the floor. Mum’s warm reception of Myles shocked me, given her earlier behaviour.
When Mum lets Myles go, she smirks at me with pursed lips and raised eyebrows. I didn’t have time to ponder herexpression. Myles takes my hand and pulls me out the door, towards the edge of the path.
He leans against the gate, “I like your family,” he says as he looks back at the cottage, Mum visible through the window, rushing around the kitchen on clean-up duty, with Elana and Wyatt in tow.
“I think they like you, too. Mum seems to approve anyway. Did you see that face she made before we left?” Pursing my lips and raising my eyebrow, I copy her face. From the way Mum was behaving last week, I had no idea she would take to Myles as quickly as she did. He impressed her.
Myles reaches forward to push the hair over my shoulder. “Your sister is the double of your mother. Did your father have black hair like you?”
“No, he had warm brown hair. I’m just the anomaly.”
“Hrm.”
“What does ‘hrm’ mean?” I say playfully.
“Your scar was… the shape of it is unusual. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think of what. Then it hit me, I spent all afternoon searching for this.” He pulls out a piece of paper that has been ripped from a book.
Myles points to a symbol that looks a little like my scar. “I pulled this from a book my father left me, ‘The histories and legacies of Linorah.’ I was never much interested in the stories when I was younger, but the symbols always stuck out to me.”
“I don’t understand.” I take the piece of paper from his outstretched hand and examine the symbol on the page. Yes, it’s similar, but that means nothing.
“I don’t know exactly what it means, Andi, but this symbol is the marking of the Tanith family.” He looks at me with wide eyes, grinning from ear to ear.
“The Tanith family?” That name seems to make an appearance in all walks of my life. My mind races, trying to take it all in.
Myles blinks at me. “They were the royal family of Linorah? Or they were before King Zayn. They are known for controlling forms of ancient magic.”
Myles steps out to face me. “Do you understand what this could mean? You have the same marking as the royal family.” His eyes widen, his body restless, piecing together random information in his head. “You don’t look like your family members. You just said it yourself.”
“This is ridiculous. It’s a mark, a scar. From falling from a tree, I remember it. And as for my hair and eyes, maybe I take my genes from distant relatives.” I laugh at his suggestion.
“You fell from a tree, but did you actually see the wound? Or just blood?”
“Do you hear yourself?” I scoff at him. I remember it all, the smell, the pain, the warm blood running along my skin. Mum was cleaning up my back, saying I’d be left with an interesting scar.
Myles snatches the paper from my hands, slicing my fingers. “Look at it. Whether you believe it or not, this is the same mark you have. It’s too coincidental that your scar is an exact copy of the Tanith’s. You are royalty.”
