“Of course you didn’t,” Garrick said, his tone as smooth and pleasant as ever. “This certainly isn’tyourfault, Araya. Now, let’s go find my son.”
“Jaxon is probably in his office,”Araya said, toeing off her boots in the entryway. Jaxon’s boots already sat neatly by the door, the warm light of the lamps glinting on the polished leather. His cloak hung on its hook, everything in its place. “Are you staying for dinner? I got plenty of soup?—”
“He’s not staying.”
Araya flinched at the sharpness in Jaxon’s voice. She hadn’t even heard him approach—but there he was, leaning against the wall. He glared at her, his dark eyes sweeping over her from head to toe as if assessing her for damage.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. “Marcus said you left and refused a carriage.”
“I—” Araya stared at him, caught off guard by his anger. “I just picked up dinner. From the Crust & Kettle. I needed some fresh air and I thought some comfort food?—”
“If you need fresh air, you go out on the balcony,” Jaxon snapped. He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them in two strides, snatching the bags from her arms before she could react. “You don’twalkto your old neighborhood.”
He set the bags down with a thud, the heavy tureens inside rattling. She’d paid extra for them—once, that would have meant going hungry. But tonight, she hadn’t even blinked at the cost. Because of Jaxon.
The thought settled uncomfortably in her chest as she lingered where he’d left her, unsure whether to move or speak.
“That’s an odd way of thanking your bond for bringing back dinner, Jaxon,” Garrick commented, taking his usual seat at their small table as he watched his son with narrowed eyes. “Araya, you should sit. You look like you’re about to collapse where you stand.”
“I—” She wanted to sayI’m fine, but the words stuck in her throat. She looked to Jaxon, instinctively seeking direction—but he was in the kitchen, yanking open drawers and pulling out utensils with more force than necessary.
“Indulge an old man’s worry,” Garrick said, his gaze unwavering as he inclined his head towards her chair.
Araya sank into her chair, caught between Garrick’s cold anger and Jaxon’s simmering irritation.
“Eat,” Jaxon ordered, setting a bowl of creamy white soup down in front of her and a platter of bread in the center of the table. His hand lingered on her shoulder, heavy and possessive, before he turned to retrieve his own bowl.
“None for me, Jaxon?” Garrick asked.
Jaxon sighed heavily, a muscle in his jaw ticking before he masked it with practiced calm. “Now isn’t a good time, Father. I can come to your office tomorrow?—”
Garrick laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s not an option, Jaxon,” he said, his voice devoid of any of the usual warmth he had for his son. “Not when Magister Hale was in my office this morninghowling about howmy sonbrought anunauthorized faeinto the lower cells.”
Jaxon stiffened, rage flashing through his carefully composed expression. “If that guard’s running to Hale with every report, then maybe he needs replacing. And if Hale has enough time to monitor a project he was removed from, perhaps he needs more to do.”
Garrick sighed, exasperation flashing in his eyes. “Hale is a Magister. You are not.” His gaze slid to Araya. “And now, because of your reckless behavior, he has turned his sights on her.”
Araya’s chest tightened, the soup turning thick and sticky in her mouth. She set her spoon down, her appetite gone.
“Was that your plan?” Garrick asked, his voice sharpening. “Or are you just careless? I taught you to take better care of your possessions than this.”
“She’s my bond,” Jaxon said tightly. “He has no authority?—”
“Owning her bond is a privilege, not a right, Jaxon.” Garrick cut in, his words razor sharp. “Do you think the Arcanum won’t take her back if Hale makes a big enough deal out of this? You know this isn’t what I meant when I authorized her to work with you.”
Take her back. The words struck Araya like a lash—clean and cruel. Everything she’d fought for was slipping through her fingers before she’d even had the chance to truly hold it. Her heart pounded, every breath sawing out of her lungs in jagged rasps. She would lose everything—Jaxon’s protection, the privilege of wielding her magic, the countless tiny freedoms she’d only just started to trust?—
She couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t survive it.
“You said this was my project,” Jaxon snapped, his fists clenched at his sides. “My opportunity to prove myself. Hale has hadtwentyyears to work on Loren with no results. But in just thirty minutes with Araya? He spoke—twice.”
“He spoke to her?” Garrick’s expression flickered, a hint of intrigue breaking through his composed mask.
“Spoke, touched—” Jaxon crossed his arms, staring at his fathersmugly. “How long has it been since he reacted or interacted with anyone Hale sent down there? He broke his chains trying to protect her from me.”
“He broke his chains?” Garrick asked sharply.
“Araya put them back.” Jaxon said, a note of pride slipping into his voice. “You should have seen his face when he realized she was there by choice.”
