Everil was beginning to regret inviting Talia down. He had hoped that, at least for the human’s sake, she’d see sense. Instead, she seemed determined to keep the human. Not that Everil, his hand still clasped in Bo’s, had much room to judge.
He was doing this for her. He needed to remember that. It would all be better once they got to Faerie. Everil would behave, and when Talia saw how well-mannered Nimai was, she’d lose track of whatever half-remembered biases she carried over from her past incarnation.
And–
And if he squeezed Bo’s hand any tighter, he was going to break it. Carefully, he untangled his fingers, curling his hand into a fist without pulling away. The bond was set. He had no excuse for pawing at the man.
“We need not concern ourselves with the properties of iron. As I said, Bo, I intend to fix this. Disengaging a soulbond is rarely done, but it’s possible. As Talia mentioned, I’ve done it before.”
Talia sucked in a breath through her teeth, but remained silent at Everil’s warning glance. There was no need for Bo to know the details. Some damage was inevitable, of course. But it was all a matter of where you made the break. Cut right, and Bo would lose nothing, only carry a bit of Everil with him. And Everil, well, Everil was accustomed to life with an incomplete soul. What did it matter if he sacrificed a bit more of his?
“Anyone else get a say in this, or is it just you?” Bo’s tone had gone hard, and irritation sparked through their bond, mingled with emotions Everil was less able to name. Hurt, perhaps.
The urge was there, as it always was. To cringe. To apologize. Bo was, in this moment, Everil’s bond. And Everil was all too familiar with how one bond could punish another without lifting a finger. That drained starvation could go on for weeks. Months. The world spinning while his skin ached from lack of touch.
“I’m merely trying to help.” Because it didn’t matter if Bo hurt him. He had to make thisright.
“Help? Your kid’s telling you she doesn’t want to be around this guy, and I distinctly remember saying I wasn’t agreeing to any ‘trespass redressing’ until I heard the details. Either what we think doesn’t matter to you despite it being her life and my soul, or this shithead has you thinking he’s so fucking omnipotent that pushing back isn’t a damn option.”
It wasn’t an option. And Bo, as bond-drunk as Everil, couldn’t see that. But Everil knew better than to fool himself so. Even if the bond made Bo wish to cling, Everil offered him no honeyed sweetness, no summer sunlight and vanilla sugar on a glass of lemonade.
“Rot and dust and cold, my love. Broken things abandoned in empty fields. Forgotten there.”
He would not continue to inflict himself on Bo, no matter how much he wished to. If the man wished to hate him for thatconsideration, then so be it.
“Talia isn’t a child. And she doesn’t get to spend your life because she’s taken against a man she’s barely met, based on a century-old disagreement that has nothing to do with her. Nimai will not harm her, nor could he. There would be an oath. Oaths are binding.”
“And I’d turn the bastard into a dormouse if he tried,” Talia muttered, sulkily, her hood almost covering her eyes.
There was that, as well. Even if Nimai wished to harm Talia, his power was trivial when compared to a Gate’s.
“You, on the other hand, are under direct threat.” Everil forced himself to look at Bo again, for all he didn’t want to see loathing in the man’s eyes. “I’m not someone who deserves your help, Bo. I am, in your words, a murderous, flesh-eating horse. No harm will come to your soul. You have my oath on it.”
Talia snorted, bringing her knees to her chest and scowling over them. But she kept her commentary to herself.
“I didn’t ask about my soul,” Bo retorted. “I asked about the Protocol for fae single parents and if either her or my opinion mattered in this. Only one of which I’ve heard an answer to, by the fucking way. She’s yourward. Child or not, you’re pushing her at someone she fucking dislikes. It doesn’t matter why. If someone says, ‘person who is supposed to watch over me, I am uncomfortable around this other person in authority over me,’ you don’t fucking tell them they’rewrongbecause they aren’tyou.”
“I–” But Everil could think of no right answer, no way to fix and soothe. He had always been miserable at such tasks.
“Yeah, no, fuck that. And fuck telling me who does or does not ‘deserve’ my help. I get to decide that. Me.” Bo leaned away, setting his cup on the table and keeping his hands to himself after. Their bond rang with his anger, summer’s lull replaced with bitterness and acid. “You want to end it and put Talia with someone she dislikes? I can’t fucking stop a murderous, flesh-eating horse. But you can fuck right off with your excuses. You can keep your damn oath. This fucker you’re so scared of finds out about me at all; I’m dead anyway. Murder happy exes don’t give a fuck if the side piece is out of the picture.”
This was Everil’s fault. He had done this to Bo. Forced a bond on him. Confused him with obligations. Clung to him, when he should have stepped away.
It was time to step away.
Everil rose to his feet with a silent shake of his head. The room remained steady, no longer spinning with Everil’s every movement. It was Bo’s energy, greedily taken,steadying him. Too much and not enough. The ache of hunger had only barely receded. Bo’s aura waited: a feast laid before him that he dared not eat.
How very fae.
The distancehurt. But Bo needed the space to clear his head. Everil walked to the window, staring out at a view that had become familiar to the point of invisibility over the decades. He’d treasured it once, Lawrence tucked against him, giddy with dreams.
“Nimai won’t harm you. Not if we sever this. He’d have no right to and nothing to gain. It’s no easy task, hunting one unknown human.” He spoke to the window, voice just loud enough to be heard. “I am trying, Bo. The requirement for a bonded pair is an old one. It isn’t about parents. I’m not Talia’s parent. It is, or was, about duality. Summer and Winter. Life and death. Seelie and unseelie. That we no longer observe those divisions has not ended the tradition. I’m not forcing this upon Talia, nor could I. She’s received offers from many potential guardians. Instead, she wishes to remain with me. Which, perforce, means accepting Nimai.”
Bo didn’t answer, but Everil could feel him. The weight of his glare, the frustration and hurt in their bond, echoing his own. He could have turned but didn’t.
“It’s that last bit where we disagree,” Talia’s words were a sulky mutter, and Everil allowed them to pass unremarked this time.
“I forced this circumstance on you, Bo. I will not force its ending. Severing a bond is”–excruciating–”complicated. While I’m certain I could sever it without damaging you, I will not do so without your consent.” Everil lifted his fingers to the glass; its cold so unlike the remembered warmth of Bo’s hand over his. “Is it so unfair of me not to wish your blood on my hands?”
