“Then I will find him.”
“What if you didn’t?” he whispered. “What if you stayed with me?”
I looked away from him and toward Nate, who was waving enthusiastically at some pretty woman at a food vendor cart. The normalcy of it irritated something fragile inside me. Everyoneelse got to make simple choices. Mine felt like they were carved in stone.
“You will leave me when your mate comes,” I finally said after a moment.
Abram didn’t say anything, so I looked up at him again. His jaw was clenched, tight enough that a muscle ticked, and his eyes swirled with deep red like storm clouds filling with heat.
“Maybe you’re my mate,” he said, more to himself than to me.
The words hit hard. This was the first time he had said it, and the echo of it rippled through my chest with painful hope.
“And if I’m not?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Then we’ll figure it out.”
I had no idea what that meant. If it was a promise, or a threat, or simply something he wished could be true. The uncertainty sat heavy in my stomach. We both fell silent as Nate walked quicker, weaving through the crowd. The mix of roasted meat, fried dough, and spiced air from the vendors made my stomach twist with nausea. I felt sick at the idea that Abram and I were likely not mated. Sick at the thought of someone else ever touching me. How was I ever supposed to like someone else beside him?
“He likes this tavern up here,” Nate said as he turned toward us.
We nodded but didn’t say anything. Maybe we both knew this was going to be the end of the hope that we were mated. The street narrowed, darkening as tall stone buildings leaned inward. We stopped in front of a shambled tavern with blackened windows and wood planks so rotted they bowed inward. The sign above the door was rusted beyond recognition, hanging crooked on one hinge.
Nate headed in and we followed. The air inside was thick with smoke, sweat, and spilled ale. As soon as we stepped through thedoor, every person in the room turned to stare at us like we had intruded somewhere we did not belong. I immediately shrank into myself, instinctive and sharp, but Abram pulled me into his side with firm, steady hands as he glared everyone down. The room shifted away from us instantly, unease rippling through it.
“I’m looking for Thomas, the oracle shade?” Nate called out.
“He’s not here. He left about ten minutes ago. Try the tavern up the street. The one with the red sign,” one of the men behind the bar yelled.
“Thanks.” Nate smiled, though his expression shifted the moment he glanced at me, unimpressed and already irritated by this search. He turned and left the tavern first.
We stepped back into the crowded street. Bodies pressed past us from every direction, and the air felt heavy with noise and movement. Above us, the sky darkened with thick storm clouds. The weight of them hung low, and it felt like an omen. It felt like the heavens wanted to warn us about whatever we were walking toward. The next tavern was not far. The large red sign was crooked and faded, but impossible to miss.
“Uncle Thomas!” Nate yelled.
An old scraggly man spun toward us. He had wiry white hair that stood out in wild tufts, as if lightning had struck him, and blue eyes that darted around like he expected someone to chase him at any moment. His clothes were worn thin and stained, hanging off his body like he had not slept indoors for longer than he could remember. Abram and I looked at each other. Both of us wondered if this really was the man we needed. The old man began stumbling toward Nate.
“He’s drunk,” Abram sighed. “Great.”
Nate was already speaking with him as we approached.
“I don’t have a nephew,” the old man hissed. His breath was sharp with alcohol.
Nate gave us a look that said he anticipated this and sighed heavily.
“Yes you do, you old fucking drunk.” Nate grabbed the man and stared him down. “I’m Natalia’s son.”
The man blinked several times. His expression shifted slowly as recognition began to settle in. He looked at Abram and me without interest at first. Then something in his gaze sharpened. He snapped his head back toward us and stared directly at me.
His eyes stayed fixed on me, wary and alert. Abram’s hand tightened around mine with immediate protectiveness when the man took a step closer. Thomas’ gaze dragged over me from head to toe, twice. His stare felt like cold fingers sliding along my skin.
“Oh, dear,” he whispered.
My heart clenched at the sound of his voice.
“Oh, gods above,” he muttered quietly.
