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What’s more, his heart ached for Rukia. Though they’d been together for less than a week, he’d found comfort in her arms like he’d never found in another. He’d found joy in watching her dive into the waters of her element, appreciating the depth of her power.
And when she’d taken care of him, despite his hostility, after Jacob’s death? It’d been a priceless gift he’d cherish for centuries to come.
Isaiah had known Jaeda would visit him long before she’d knocked on the door. As was typical, it was a curtesy knock before she swept into his home with her usual grace. Looking up at her approach, he saw the reluctance in her features, and the far more overpowering pity.
Pity.
Snarling at the thought of it, he erased all emotion from his face and met her with a blank stare. “What do you need, Jaeda?”
The female Raeth drew close to him, sitting stiffly on the edge of the sofa perpendicular to his. The soft pink of her long dress gathered around her feet as she sat, the healer errantly pulling at the fabric in a move he could only deem as anxious.
Finally meeting his eye, Jaeda spoke. “Deon and Emma are exhibiting signs of depression, and our younglings have become aggressive with each other.”
Damn.
Isaiah tore his gaze away from hers to double down on the bonds from his mind to his clans’, restricting the flow of suppressed emotional feedback even further. As sovereign, his mental state could affect everyone in his clan unintentionally if his sentiments were strong enough.
It was why he’d effectually created the psychic one-way valve that allowed their emotions into his mind, but never the opposite. Apparently, he’d underestimated the depth and scope of his feedback loop.
“I’ve reinforced the valve.”
Jaeda took a deep breath. “You know that’s only a temporary stopgap, sovereign. You’re affecting all of us through our bonds, not just the children and the adolescents. The adults are simply better at hiding it.”
Anger ignited beneath his façade, shattering his well-worn mask instantly. “What the hell would you have me do?”
“You need to address what’s eating you!” Jaeda opened her palms to him, unaccustomed to his fury being directed at her. “Jacob’s gone and you’re the one left standing. Rukia’s gone because you cast her out. Soon, your clan will be drowning in depression if they’re not at each other’s throats. Isaiah, youneedto find a way to work through this.”
“How, Jaeda?” Isaiah stood and began to pace, tangling a hand through his hair. “My own mentor, the person I considered to be my father, is dead by my own hand. I rejected my would-be mate because, odds are, I’ll accidentally kill her. I can’t even take the edge off by sparing with anyone because I might accidentally dust them. Howexactlydo you recommend I work through this?”
The female Raeth searched the ground, her eyebrows knit together in empathy. “I can’t tell you that, Isaiah. I can only tell you that we’re feeling what you are, but on a smaller scale.” The pink of her lips pressed together in a firm line before she sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, sovereign, for everything.”
Standing, she gently touched his shoulder before dropping her eyes and leaving his home as quietly as she’d entered it.
He stared out the window into the dry desert lands. Jacob’s blood stained his hands, and always would. His mate, the one his soul longed for, could never be his.
And now, he was failing his clan.
Desolation fisted around this throat, choking him from the inside out. He had never succumbed to such a sensation before, been so weakened by his own emotions.
Nails biting into his palms, he gritted his teeth and tried to shake off the heavy despair that hung about his neck like a noose.
Seconds later, he teleported into the familiar conference space of Nina’s home in Lexington. Even before it’d been the designated Peace Accords meeting grounds, it’d been where the five sovereigns of the largest clans met—when they had to.
Beneath the superficial layer of civility that they maintained, none of them had friendly relationships. The only exception was Nero and Nina; the two sovereigns delighted in one another’s company and often saw each other socially.
Isaiah rolled his eyes as he walked into the room where—speak of the devil—Nero and Nina were already deep in pleasant conversation.
The two paused to look up at him, but only Nina offered him a welcoming nod. Nero visibility flinched. A slew of expressions crossed the man’s features.
That was when Isaiah remembered that Nero had the unique ability to read and control emotion. Cursing inwardly, he tried to rein in the despair and animosity that coiled around his psyche, but he had little success in taming what ravaged him.
As he took his seat, he leveled a hard glare at Nero and telepathed a single command.Stop reading me.
Nothing but worry showed in the other man’s eyes.Isaiah, I am concerned for you.
I don’t need your concern.Breaking eye contact, he glanced over at Nina, who’d grown quiet. “Where are the others?”
“They’ll arrive shortly.” The female sovereign’s ice blue gaze regarded him guardedly for half a moment before she turned back to Nero. “Tell Key hello for me, Nero. It’s been far too long since her and I have talked.”
