Willingly. Happily.
Irrevocably.
The rest, we can figure out together.
And I hope you know, even if you don’t, that I will never stop loving you anyway.
—B
Lunara stared into the middle space, the parchment clutched in her trembling hand. Shoddy calligraphy or no, Brand’s way with words wrecked her every time. Spoke to a broken piece of her with perfect eloquence, adding a stitch to mend the damage with every earnest syllable.
The Sisters had made him for her, knowing what she was. Could she really throw their gift away? Was she really so arrogant that she would insist on knowing better than them?
“What will you do?”
She jolted, and found Magnus perched on a chair arm, staring at the letter in her hand.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I just… don’t know.”
“Well, not to put any added pressure on you, but the Occurrence is tomorrow.” He scrubbed both hands down his tired face, folding them in front of his mouth as he sighed. “My brother is more broken than I’ve ever seen him, which is saying something. He hasn’t been able to leave the rage since Argoph. And you...” He huffed, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “Shite, I think you might be doing worse. Do you even realize the only food you’ve eaten in about five days is the berries he leaves for you?”
Her eyes went to the bowl beside her, waiting patiently for her to fall upon it as if starving.
She was, too. Starving. But not for food.
“I thought I was made of sturdier stuff than this.” She picked up a strawberry, turning it in the low light. “Fifty-two years on my own, and I can’t make it a week without him? Even for his own good?”
“Mates aren’t supposed to go without one another at all, Lunara. And itisn’tgood for him. You think you’re rescuing him, but it won’t be Brand you leave behind. Not my Brand. Not yours. You’ll be leaving a husk. A walking corpse. I don’t say that to lay on a heap of guilt, but because it’s the Sisters’ honest truth. It is what it is.” He slipped from the chair arm and down to the floor, wrapping an arm around her. “It won’t beyouwalking away, either, and for what?”
“Because no matter what I do, I will destroy him in the end. I’m the Keeper of Illamiata. A monster. Kill him now, or kill him later. It’s all the same, except one gives him a chance.”
“Ach, I love a bit of drama, but that’s too much even for me.” He gave her a playful shake. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see a stone ‘round your bonny wee neck, witchling. You’re not the Keeper of anything at the moment. Tell me, what’s the shortest a Sorcerit has ever held Illamiata?”
Confused, Lunara looked back, surprised at the answer. “I… I think it was Malachyr.” It didn’t hurt to say his name because nothing could make her feel worse than she already did. “He wasn’t much older than me. He had it maybe thirty years, or so? Why?”
“Sounds to me like, even should the very worst happen, you’d still have more of a life with your true mate than most ever get.”
Sisters, it was so tempting. She hadn’t thought of it like that. Hadn’t considered the possibility of riding it out. Malachyr had been wonderful until he wasn’t. Enough years had passed that she could look back and admit it now.
And maybe… maybe she didn’t have to rely only on herself to be safe.
“Magnus?”
“Aye?”
Excitement bubbled up. “What about a binding oath? I’ve read about them before. The strongest among the Wolflords are able to compel others. You could lock me in a binding oath. Make it so I was unable to hurt anyone.”
He tilted her chin up. “Ah, lass… not for all the riches in the world.”
“But—”
“No. And I’ll show you why. If I may?”
When she nodded, he took her arm and brought it to his mouth as he partially shifted, his teeth turning to fangs. Venom of some sort dripped from their lengths in shimmering green. Without warning, he struck, biting down on her flesh.
The pain was almost immediately replaced by paralysis.
She sat there, trying to breathe as his voice exploded in her mind, mixed with the earthy growl of another entity.
