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Discovering her and yet not being able to claim her was making it harder to maintain the façade of calm that had become my personality over many years of repetition. The beast was too close to the surface, making me quicker to anger, agitated, erratic.
I’d managed to keep her away last month, but now that she’d seen the cage—now that I couldn’t stay away from her—I doubted the monster would allow such a long separation.
I’d long suspected that I might have better control over my two halves if I wasn’t forced to keep one contained, letting it out only when it became too hard to ignore—usually once a month. But, of course, I’d never been able to test that theory. Unseelie abilities couldn’t be allowed to simply flourish in the High Fae court.
It wasn’t exactly a secret that I had a different father than my brother and sister—you only had to look at us twice to start asking questions, after all—yet the identity of my father had always been closely guarded, and for good reason. If anyone looked too deeply into how my existence came to be, unions like my mother and Auberon, Gwydion and Thalia, or Penvalle and Mairead would suddenly make less sense.
Secrets were only kept if no one asked questions.
“Because that is a more valuable secret, little monster, and if you are looking to bargain, then I will not lay down all I have on the first round.”
She narrowed her gaze, and I could practically see the wall of suspicion falling over her eyes.Two steps forward, a hundred back.
It was likely for the best—better for both of us if she kept some distance—but it was torture to consider.
Everything about this was fucking torture.
It had been growing worse for weeks, but I hadn’t fully recognized it for what it was. Perhaps because of the unusual way in which I’d discovered our bond. Casual sex wasn’t unusual in the court, and most Fae who found their mate did so that way. I’d never heard of it happening this way, where the blood was exchanged first.
For a normal bond, the frenzy would be immediate and then die down once fulfilled, but I only felt more unstable by the hour.
I could already feel myself rationalizing alternatives—ways to keep her if I could not find the person meant to break the curse. Perhaps if we never shared blood again, it could work. I might be able to have her without dooming myself and everyone I loved. My teeth ached at the very idea—not a good sign.
The monster in my mind might crave her, hunger for her surrender, but every other part of me knew to stay away. I was already too deeply invested in this woman, far more than I ever should have been, and if I allowed her any closer, I feared that the walls of self-control I’d built between myself and the creature sharing my mind would crumble altogether.
“Your turn,” I managed to say, my voice coming out more like a snarl than I’d intended.
Lonnie looked at me strangely, and I wished I could see myself through her eyes. Had something changed?Perhaps I’m already too far gone. Not thinking clearly.
She scowled but let out a long breath. “Fine, but I do not have quite so clear an answer as you seem to believe I must.”
I raised a surprised eyebrow. I honestly was not expecting her to hold up her end of the small bargain. Humans, unlike Fae, did not take their word seriously. That aside, I was half-convinced she believed her own lies, likely the product of so many years ignoring or denying magic that it had gone almost dormant. Detangling her misbelief from the truth would be more difficult than simply discovering for myself what she was capable of.
She sat on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side, and looked down at the book in her hands. It was filthy, shabby around the edges, with loose pages sticking out of the top and nothing on the cover, yet she held it like a priceless treasure.
“Before my sister died,” she said without looking at me, “she’d kept these journals. She wrote in them every day since we learned to write, and I’ve never read them.”
I raised an eyebrow at that, tempted to question her assertion.
Never?Never once had she looked? That seemed like something a sibling might do. I would know, having two myself. Before I could ask, however, she continued:
“For the last month, I’d been looking for them. I keep wondering if I’ll find something about what caused her death. We were—” She paused. “—very different when she was alive. I had no idea she was part of the rebellion, and I keep wondering what would have happened if I’d read her journal just once. If she’d be alive now.”
My stomach clenched with something like guilt. I didn’t handle emotional upheaval well but wished I could have, for her sake. Sorrow was a grayscale emotion I had never mastered, somewhere in the shadows between pleasure and rage. I would have gone to fucking war to protect her, but I didn’t know how to talk to her about her grief.
“Your servant has seen them?” I asked stiffly, knowing it was hardly the right response.
She shook her head. “I had to leave them in the garden the other night. Enid found them for me.”
I waited, expecting her to offer more, but she merely stared down at the book. Perhaps she wished to read them alone? Should I allow that?
It felt…different to consider anyone’s feelings over the most practical course of action, and I couldn’t say I liked it. I’d never worried about anyone’s feelings before now, but I held my breath, waiting to see if she shoved me away.
“If I keep putting this off, I’ll lose my nerve altogether,” she said finally, letting out a short breath.
I nodded, still not sure I was following what she wanted to do. Indeed, I kept becoming distracted by the pulse in her throat and the way the silk of her nightgown clung around the curves of her body. Entirely inappropriate given the circumstances, but the monster didn’t care for secrets or politics, only for claiming his mate.
Lonnie moved up the bed until she was sitting against the headboard, her small shoulder just brushing mine, and placed the book against her raised knees. Flipping the cover open, she held it flat and began to read.
