“Old enough.”
“Zyla.” He warns, hand pausing on my hair.
“Sixteen.”
I see it written on his face. He understands some of it, at least.
Bending low, he lifts me into his arms and then sinks into the armchair himself, balancing me on his lap. “You would have to ask her for her side of the story, but I will tell you this part of it myself. When she went through the portals with me, she was but a shell of herself. I don’t know what your knights did to her, but I caught a glimpse of some of the scars. She only told me they despise women like her.”
I nod, and he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear.
“They broke her, I think,” he murmurs. “It wasn’t an easy decision to make, and she sobbed on my shoulder the entire time, but she kept repeating one thing.I can’t go back. I can’t. I can’t. And I don’t think she was speaking to me. I think she was trying to convince herself.”
I swallow hard, because as much as it soothes the ache within my own heart—that of abandonment—I never want to see her hurt and I know the knights. I know what they do to women with magic, with power.
“It took her long months to find herself at Blackfyre Keep.” His fingers toy with a lock of my hair. “I did not think she would take to it at all. But even as my brothers sought to woo her, itwas Rowan, the studious one, who captured her heart. He has his own battles to fight, and I think they found some common ground, some sense of peace between them. It was friendship at first. And then… well, they’re sickeningly in love with each other now. And she’s happier.”
I nod hard, because I can barely speak around the lump in my throat.
“She spoke to me of you once,” he murmurs. “She was crying the night before I left for the following bride hunt, and she told me there was a piece of her she’d left behind, a piece she could never regain. A sister. One she loved. One she regretted leaving. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to return, but I fear her mind would have broken had she ever attempted it.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and salty. I can’t stop them, even as I brush them away. Aylin’s alive and happily mated, everything I should want for her, and I don’t know why I feel like such a mess.
Perhaps because my mission—the only thing that made me get out of bed on some of the darker days—is gone.
What now?
“This is my last hunt.” Bael strokes my hair. “I have but one brother to find a mate for.”
“Kari.”
He shrugs. “She would suit Flynt. You said yourself she has nothing to return home to, and the coupling might make them happy.”
“So your four brothers would be happily mated.” I can barely bring myself to ask. “And what of you?”
His lashes flutter down, obscuring his eyes. “My life is not my own. I made a deal with Kasaros. I cannot go back on that.”
“But if you could?”
“I do not dare look for a mate of my own, fordreimales are territorial and protective. Were I to take a mate and sire littledreiof my own, I would not be able to fulfil my oath to protect my brothers for I would never be able to tear my eyes from what was mine.” His gaze lifts. “If I took a mate, I would never let her go. She would be mine.Mine, Zyla. And the world around us would cease to exist for me, for she is all I would see.”
“Mine,” he had growled in my ear when he came.
I shiver. “Tell me of your people. How did this bride hunt begin for you?”
“Thedreihave long lives. We live for hundreds upon hundreds of years. Our memories are long, and our lives are slow—filled with joy and family. When the Goddess Amara left, our people were insulated at first. Our women still gave birth, loved, and lived. Then a plague swept through my kind,” he murmurs, staring into the flames in the fireplace.
Little figures dance within the flames, males sweeping a group of laughing women in circles around a central pole. Suddenly the laughing faces vanish, and the women began to scream silently as they collapse. The men beg for help, trying to tend their women, but one by one they fall still.
“Eight out of ten females sickened from the plague and died. Crones. Mothers. Maidens.” His voice turns soft with pain. “Children.”
The horror in his eyes… It softens my heart further.
“It was merely the start of our curse. My people knew honor once. Our king was kind and wise—my brother in arms. But when our females died, a new madness descended that tore apart our kingdom. Males fought for the precious few females that existed, and betrothal contracts were formed the second a new daughter breathed life. Those who’d sworn undying loyalty between clans turned their backs on such oaths.” He kisses my fingertips. “I was the eldest, and when my mother died, I swore to protect my brothers and raise them to adulthood, no matter the cost. I would hunt for them, sacrifice for them, findthem mates to secure our line, and bleed for them.” His voice roughens. “And so that is what I have done. You want to know how a monster is created, Zyla?”
The beast bleeds through his eyes once more. “It is forged in fire and fury, created as both guardian and protector. I cast aside all the oaths I had ever sworn to my king when he sent his men to claim the females in our lands. I killed dozens of my kind. Possibly hundreds. And I forged a reputation not even my king dares cross.”
“Then an invitation came.” His claws trail over my skin. “A bride hunt. A prize. A chance to claim a female that was not stricken by our curse. It was only three days flight from my kingdom. I could hear Kasaros’ laughter in my ears but I took that chance for my brothers’ sakes, and I joined the hunt. I claimed a female bride for River to take as mate. Perhaps you think it wrong, but when the only other choice is annihilation of all those you consider yours, you’d be surprised at what depths you will sink to.”
