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She definitely knew something. But she wasn’t going to tell me unless I asked the right questions. The trouble there was that I didn’t know what questions there were to ask.
“Have you met a pair?” Declan asked.
Ah, a good question I should’ve thought to ask.
Guinevere looked up and gave a smile. “That’s an excellent question.”
“One I’d like an answer to,” Declan said.
She only smiled for a moment. “The woman I am now isn’t acquainted with them, no.”
And a cryptic fucking answer.
Did that mean she knew them in a past life? Did she answer that so oddly because she wasn’tcapableof answering another way? Fae, for instance, were capable of controlling thoughts. If one of them were a Fae, they could’ve forced her to never speak of them.
“Not gonna give a straight answer on that one,” Declan murmured. “Fine. How would someone know if they were par animarum?”
“Feeling one another’s pain without a binding spell is a telltale.” Her eyes came to mine. “As is hearing through one another’s ears, seeing through on another’s eyes.” A smile. “Powers suddenly growing.”
Evidently, she gathered what that kick under the table had been about. Still, I wasn’t comfortable telling her our theory. She could speculate. But we had no obligation to pour this out to someone we didn’t know.
I did have another question, though.
“Hypothetically, is there a way for them to break the binding?” I asked.
“Of course. But why would they want to?” she asked. “From my understanding, the bond is the most beautiful joining in the cosmos.”
“Humor me. How’s it done?”
Her smile widened. “Death.”
My brows dropped. “What do you mean death?”
“The binding is completed upon intimacy, but the only way it’s broken is through death. And I don’t mean near death experiences. I mean recycling. When their soul has crossed to the abyss and is reborn in a new body, only then is the bond broken. Of course, the soul remembers what the mind does not. When they meet, even before they merge, they feel a connection to one another. Attraction, a yearn to protect one another, to hold one another, to befriend one another. Instant fireworks.” Another sip of her wine. “But yes. Once the bodies have bonded, only death can break the tie.”
Well, shit.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
GUINEVERE
Guinevere watched Declan and Brooke intently as they ate. She kept the conversation going, as she was good for, but she had a feeling.
The girl didn’t trust her. That was alright. Most people didn’t. Guinevere was aware of the vibrations she radiated. Confident, elegant—overall intimidating to someone like Brooke.
She desperately wanted to lend her some fashion advice. Her dress reminded Guinevere of something she’d dressed in as a schoolgirl. Tacky, to say the least. And her makeup… What was it with women in the early 2000’s? What was the obsession with thin eyebrows, lipstick that resembled concealer, and one-dimensional eyeshadow?
Although, Guinevere recognized that she was the one who wasn’t in style. Such an odd thing how fashion changed. But she was sure Brooke would look back on photos of herself in ten years and cringe.
Still, she found herself admiring the way Brooke and Declan interacted. It reminded her of the others. Smooth. Unified. Like their movements almost mirrored one another.
Beautiful, really.
They were. She didn’t need to be a Witch to see it. The energy they radiated was confirmation, but watching them was enough to tie it all together on its own.
These two were, in fact, par animarum.
But Guinevere wasn’t blind to Brooke’s hesitation either. She saw the way she forced her body the opposite direction at the table, careful to avoid brushing elbows or grazing fingers as she reached for the salt and pepper.
