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“Your mother sounds like she was a pretty cool lady. As for the battle stuff, well, it’s not just you. The king is making the choice as well. You’re working as a team, with all the other factions of Fae or whatever the others are called. You don’t have to take it all on yourself. You’reallmaking this choice together. Which you kind of have to, right? It’s not going to stop unless you do.”
“Some of my people will die.” Kellen’s voice held a bone-deep sadness.
“Yes, unfortunately, that’s unavoidable in battles. But, I guess the question is, will more people die if you let her win?”
Kellen turned and gave her a measured look.
“Yes, they would.”
“Then I think you have your answer.”
“I’m worried,” Kellen admitted.
“A good ruler should be.” Raven eased back. “That means you care.”
“My mother cared as well.”
“And your father?” Raven kept her tone light though she wanted to scream at him that he really needed to put his father in his place, or the man would derail everything they were working toward.
“It’s hard to say. I can’t decide if he is more interested in having power than he is in using the power for good.” It was a brutal admission, coming from a son, and Raven watched the sadness settle onto his face. “They were never fated mates.”
“Fated mates? Who? What is that?” Raven turned and reached out to touch the dagger, but he slapped her hand away. “Hey!”
“It’s magicked. Every piece in here is. You can’t just pick the weapon up and use it, otherwise you’ll come to great harm.”
“Would have been useful to tell me that from the start, no?” Raven muttered, annoyed. Now she wanted to pick up every weapon in there, precisely because she’d been told that she wasn’t allowed to touch.
“Fated mates are vitally important in the Fae realm. Not everyone finds theirs. Some are fine if they never do. Others claim their mate and the claim isn’t returned. Those perish. But if two claims are met? It’s an incredible bond, one that enhances both magickal powers and longevity. It’s a deeply revered tradition among my people.”
“Oh, wow, like super-charged soul mates?”
A trace of a smile crossed Kellen’s lips as he turned to look down at her.
“Something like that.”
“And dear old papa wasn’t your mother’s fated mate. Hmm, I wonder why she chose him then?” Raven pressed her lips together, immediately feeling bad when Kellen winced. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I speak without thinking. Just tell me to shut up.”
“Shut up,” Kellen said.
“See, that shouldn’t be charming, and yet for some reason it is.”
“So, I’m prettyandcharming? Your opinion of me grows fonder.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Raven turned away to hide her smile. Warmth bloomed inside of her, a decidedly unusual feeling for her, and she went to study the shelves of bottles, keeping her hands locked behind her back so she didn’t reach out and grab one. It was hard to resist the urge, as each bottle was more magickal looking than the next, and she’d never been in the presence of such beauty before. Master artisans must have crafted these bottles, Raven mused, her eyes lighting on one that was formed to look like two dragons twining around each other. “No fated mate for you then?”
She didn’t know why she asked. It wasn’t any of her business, nor did she really care. But information was power, Raven told herself, as she continued to study the bottles.
“No.” Kellen was at her back, his voice a warm timbre, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
“Not looking for one or just haven’t found her?” Raven asked, edging away from him a bit even though her body, surprisingly, was urging her to lean backward into his.Stupid chemical reactions. That’s all this was. Close proximity to a hot guy in a dark room. Simple chemistry.
“I’m not certain I’m meant to have one.” The answer relieved Raven, and then she was immediately annoyed at herself. Why would it relieve her? It’s not like the freaking ruler of the Air Fae would suddenly fall in love with her and she’d become a magickal princess. Even with the knowledge that magick existed in this world, Raven had learned long ago that fairy tales didn’t happen for girls like her.
“Probably for the best.” Raven turned and pasted a smile on her face. “Relationships are nothing but a distraction. That’s the last thing you need before you go into battle.”
“Perhaps. Not a sentimental type, are you, Raven? Not one to dream of love?” Kellen reached behind her and grabbed a bottle from the shelf, pocketing it in the jacket he wore.
“Not one to dream,” Raven amended. “That’s one luxury I certainly can’t afford.”
