She opened her eyes wide, innocence dialed up just enough to make Deyric cough softly into his fist.
“I honestly have no idea what she’s talking about.” Her voice dropped, conspiratorial. “But is it true? What they’re saying? About her… and the younger Lord?”
Tharan’s mouth tightened. “It seems so.”
He looked her over, sharper this time. “So, you’re saying you never had a personalrelationshipwith Lord Caelith?”
“No, sir.” A dry, sharp bark of laughter cut the night air clean in two. “Like the Lady, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know my name.”
“Really? She wasn’t the only one who mentioned a servant with an unhealthy fixation on him.”
Fucking Jenni, she thought, but her smile stayed fixed, her pulse the only thing betraying her.
“I suppose I can see why some women might have been interested. He is aLord, after all.” She tilted her head, leaning into Deyric’s side. “But, Officer, I’m here with mymate.”
The smile she gave him was bright and real, down to the bone, her whole chest tightening—not from nerves, but from the sheer fact that the word fit now, fit better than her own skin.
Tharan’s mouth slipped open, shock rolling across his face. “Mate? There haven’t been any new mate bonds since before the War.”
She pressed closer to Deyric, who didn’t miss a beat, chiming, “The Goddess has been generous.”
“I don’t believe it.” Tharan shook his head, muttering to himself as he scanned his glowing tablet. “Megee! Get over here!”
Before Emmaline could ask what the hell a Megee was, her attention snagged lower—Deyric’s hand sliding down on her back, his palm tracing circles where the dress dipped low, exposing bare skin. Heat simmered through her, memory flashing of exactly how they’d spent the hours before this little reunion.
“Boss?” A deep, slightly winded voice answered from behind the gliders, and a large male Corgi trotted out of the search formation. His fur was dark with splashes of silver around his muzzle and paws, his ears slightly lopsided like he’d gotten into one too many scraps.
Tharan gestured toward them. “These two are telling me they’re mates.”
“Like… from the Goddess?” Megee took a cautious step closer, nose lifting. “Oh, hells. That would explain why the pups keep getting distracted.”
Tharan’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Megee edged even closer, sniffing once, twice—then gagged, coughing like he’d swallowed his own tongue. “Great Goddess preserve me—yeah, yeah. Confirmed. They’re mates. No question.”
He staggered back another step, shaking his head like it might clear the air. “Goddess, that’s pungent.”
Heat climbed Emmaline’s neck, burning straight to her ears, while Deyric, the bastard, just laughed low and entirely too pleased with himself.
“Does that answer your question, Officer?” Deyric asked.
Tharan didn’t answer right away, eyes blinking too fast, like he couldn’t decide whether to bow or start praying. “Amazing.” His voice came soft, almost reverent. “She favors us once more.” He stared off into the distance.
Deyric looked to Emmaline, caught her shrug, then stepped in before the silence could stretch too long. “Sir?”
The officer startled, clearing his throat. “Oh—yes!” He straightened his shoulders and tried for something resembling authority. “Apologies, sir. It’s just… It’s been so long since we’ve seen mates. It’s…” He swallowed, emotions threatening to swarm him again before he managed to recover. “It’s good. It’s been too long since the Goddess last smiled on the Ellyllon.”
Deyric gave a polite nod, but Emmaline arched a brow. “And Isolde’s accusations?”
Tharan waved the suggestion off like a bad smell. “Ridiculous. Of course. No one with a mate would tempt fate like that. Even for a Lord.”
His voice trailed off, eyes flicking to Emmaline, the wheels turning behind his eyes—
Unless under coercion.
He didn’t say it. Didn’t have to. The silence said it for him.
His gaze softened into something worse than suspicion—pity.
