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Pushing that thought aside, I squinted at a metal bell that hung from the side of one of the buildings. A short piece of rope dangled below it, as if ready to be pulled so the thing could be rung.
And just like that, I remembered.
That bell had been the last thing I’d seen before I was attacked. I’d been wondering why in the world anyone would hang a bell there, of all places, right before something hard had bashed me on the back of the head.
The rest of it came flooding back to me then, and I sucked in a breath.
I’d been traveling to Pinsky with Nicolette and her entourage, on a royal tour of her new kingdom so she could get the lay of the land. For most of the trip, I’d taken up residence in her carriage, because after all, the queen’s quarters were the best accommodations in the caravan. There was no way she could eat all the fruits and desserts in there by herself, anyway, so I was being a good friend and helping her devour her snacks, you know, so they wouldn’t go to waste.
Except the closer we had traveled to Pinsky, the more restless and unsettled I became. It wasn’t until we’d arrived at the village and Nicolette said she wanted to walk through the bazaar while the market was in full swing that I understood what my affliction was, because it was there that I finally sensed the presence of my true love nearby for the second time.
I’d grown accustomed to the likely chance that I’d never sense her again. I’d finally grown comfortable in the life I had, serving Nicolette and leading her army. But all these years later, everything had changed in an instant. The moment my mark began to tingle and nag at my temple with its persistent awakening, a switch inside me flipped.
Finally, it seemed to sigh in relief. I’d found my way back into her vicinity. I knew the remainder of my life would be dedicated to her—my one true love.
After that, I’d had a mini panic attack, because I wasn’t exactly prepared for this moment. But hell, this was the biggest, most important introduction of my life. I was about to meet the one person I would spend the rest of my days with.
Who wouldn’t want to be prepared for that, right?
I probably would’ve shaved first, put on my cleanest attire, dashed on some cologne, maybe gotten a haircut, and definitely not eaten so much food from Nicolette’s carriage all morning long. I needed a redo, so I could exude the best first impression a woman had ever received from a man.
Realizing my predicament, however, Nicolette and Farrow had forced me forward to just meet her already, whether I was ready or not, and I’d been floored when I’d finally gotten my first look, merely to realize my mate was actually a man—not a woman.
I’d only ever been attracted to women before, so learning that the love of my life—the one person who was supposed to be my partner in this world and complement me more than anyone else—was not a woman…
Well, it was a shock, to say the least.
But this man…
He wasn’t even the type of man I’d be into, if I were into men. He was so ancient that the years had permanently stooped his shoulders; the poor guy probably couldn’t stand up straight if he tried. He was heftier than most a
nd bulged and sagged in the weirdest places. His appearance made no difference one way or another, though, because his scowl would’ve disrupted the visage of the most handsome man alive if he were pretty. Or young. He seemed like he was one of those crabby old coots who yelled at everyone for everything.
I wasn’t sure what to think about being forever bound to a crabby old coot.
I would’ve denied it all if it weren’t for the sensation of longing zinging through my mark, and a feeling of rightness that had settled into my bones, as if everything inside me had suddenly just aligned.
Simply looking at him made me feel complete.
When I was only a few days old, my parents had tattooed the left side of my temple with the mark of a heart inside a circle, just like the law in my native land had ordered them to. And the ink for it had been mixed and applied by a high priestess of pure heart and strong magical abilities, as it was supposed to be. Ergo, my love mark was supposed to alert me to the presence of my life’s companion at first sight. And the love mark was never wrong.
Never.
Yet, I had questions.
So many questions. Because this seemed fucking wrong.
Despite the insistence from my mark, something was not right here.
I mean, if I was going to be paired off with an elderly gentleman, why couldn’t it have at least been a sweet old man who liked to laugh and regale everyone with stories of the good old days? Not this bitter, decrepit bastard who scowled at me as if I were the source of his life’s misery.
I couldn’t be reading the signals wrong either; I’d been able to follow the trail of longing and insistent nagging in my temple from over two blocks away. And when I’d taken my first look, I just knew.
He belonged to me. And I belonged to him.
After getting over the surprise of his gender, and age, and overall hostile glower, I’d started toward him merely to introduce myself and maybe learn his name and discover what it was about him that kept calling to me. Get my questions answered, you know?
But for some unknown reason, he’d taken off before I could reach him. I knew he’d seen me coming, too. He’d looked right at me, and then he’d turned away, wheeling his cart of wares he’d been selling in the square and trundling off into a crowd of people. What was worse was that he didn’t have the mark. He didn’t know we belonged together. The hardest part about this mess of a situation would be to somehow convince him that we did.
