Wrong. The answer comes immediately, unbidden and unwelcome. The thought of Heidi's light going out, those gray-blue eyes closing forever, sends something violent and possessive surging through my veins. Something that wants to burn down anyone who would dare touch what's apparently mine.
"It feels like a solution to an impossible problem."
Jelle's laugh is soft and knowing. "Liar."
I stop pacing to glare at her, but she's unmoved by my displeasure. She’s someone who answers only to the gods, which means she's immune to my intimidation tactics.
"The bond is already taking root," she continues, turning to face me fully. "Fighting it will only make the process more painful. And more dangerous."
"You said staying near each other would buy us time."
"Time to accept what cannot be changed, yes. Not time to find some magical escape route that doesn't exist." She crosses her arms, suddenly looking less like a mystical priestess and more like someone's exasperated aunt. "This is a gift, you stubborn fool. Most xaphan spend their entire lives hoping for a connection this strong."
"Most xaphan don't get soul-bonded to human thieves who want nothing more than to slit their throats and run."
"Most xaphan don't need to be dragged kicking and screaming toward their own happiness."
The accusation hangs in the air between us, sharp enough to draw blood. I want to argue, to list all the very rational reasons why this situation is a disaster rather than a gift. Instead, the pinching in my chest grows stronger, as if my own body is disagreeing with my protests.
"There has to be another way."
Jelle shakes her head, violet eyes soft with something that might be pity. "The only way forward is through acceptance. Bond with her willingly, or watch the magic tear you both apart slowly. Those are your choices."
I leave the temple with those words echoing in my skull and the uncomfortable truth settling in my bones like an infection. By the time I reach home, the winter sun has disappeared behind the mountains, and the pinching sensation has spread from my chest into my shoulders and down my arms.
The house feels different when I enter through the kitchen door—warmer somehow, though not in any way I can quantify. Thera looks up from her prep work with the expression she wears when she's trying very hard not to say something I won't want to hear.
"Long day?" she asks, continuing to chop vegetables with mechanical precision.
"Pointless day." I slump against the counter, suddenly feeling every one of my years. "The Praexa are useless, Jelle is unhelpful, and I still have a human locked in my guest room who would rather die than accept what fate has apparently decided for both of us."
Not that I'm making much progress on that, either.
"Hmm." Thera's knife pauses in its rhythm. "About that."
Something in her tone makes my spine straighten. "About what?"
"Your human. She's not exactly locked in the guest room anymore."
The temperature in the kitchen drops several degrees as my magic responds to the spike of alarm in my chest. "What do you mean, not locked in the guest room?"
"I mean she's in the back garden with your daughter, building snow creatures and laughing loud enough to wake the dead." Thera sets down her knife and turns to face me fully, hands on her hips in a posture I remember from childhood lectures. "And before you get that look on your face, it was Irida's idea."
"My daughter is playing with a dangerous criminal." The words come out flat, deadly quiet in the way that usually sends grown men scrambling for cover.
Thera, having helped raise me from a temperamental child into a temperamental adult, is entirely unmoved. "Your daughter is playing with a young woman who's been nothing but gentle with her. Rhegan and Ilyra are watching from the terrace, and Varos is positioned where he can intervene if needed."
The kitchen suddenly feels too small, the walls pressing in as my protective instincts clash with something else—something that whispers that if Heidi wanted to hurt Irida, she would have done it by now. The logical part of my mind knows Thera wouldn't have allowed this if there was any real danger, but logic has very little power when it comes to my daughter's safety.
"This is unacceptable."
"Is it?" Thera crosses her arms, fixing me with the look that means she's about to say something I definitely don't want to hear. "Because from where I'm standing, this might be exactly what both of them need."
"Irida doesn't need to be forming attachments to someone who won't be staying."
"And how do you know she won't be staying?"
The question catches me off guard, mainly because I don't have a good answer. The bond ensures Heidi will have to stay close, at least until it's completed or we both die from the separation. But beyond that immediate necessity...
