“I can hear it,” he went on, matter-of-fact in the way that made it worse.“Two rhythms.”His gaze held her fast.“Does Trik know?”
The question hit like a slap.Heat rose quickly and hot, anger racing to cover the nakedness she felt.“No.”
His mouth flattened.“Of course he doesn’t.”He shook his head, a bite of judgment bleeding through.“If he did, he wouldn’t be buried in that book.”
Cassie’s temper snapped, clean as a twig.“Careful.”She didn’t want to pull the rank card, because frankly, she still wasn’t used to the whole “queen” thing.But on this, she would.
“He should know,” Cush said, blunt as a dull blade.“And so should Elora.Keeping it from them?—”
“Ismychoice,” Cassie cut in.“My body.My timing.”The tremor in her hands humiliated her; she shoved them into her pockets.“You don’t get to walk in here and decide when I tell my mate I’m pregnant.”
His expression didn’t soften.“I’m not deciding.I’m telling you the truth you already know.Trik would be over the moon.And the longer you wait, the more this hurts both of you.”
Her fury surged, raw and bright, and the bond, sleeping for too long, flared.Cassie?Trik’s voice brushed her mind, warm and startled, like a hand finding her in the dark.What’s wrong?Where are you?
Pain bloomed under her breastbone, love and rage colliding.Now you hear me?she shot back, the words sharp enough to cut.Go back to your book, Your Majesty.
A beat of stunned silence across the link.Then, aching:Cass?—
She slammed the door in her mind so hard her head rang.The sudden quiet made her sway.
Cush swore under his breath.“I didn’t mean?—”
“You meant exactly what you said,” she snapped.“And you’re right.He should know.But you don’t get to be judge and courier because you pay attention to your senses whilehedoes not.”Her voice shook; she made it steel anyway.“If you tell him before I do, I will never forgive you.And Elora won’t either.”That was harsh and not something Cassie would normally say.But her emotions were all over the place and it felt like she couldn’t control the words that bubbled up with her anger.
Cush held her gaze for a long beat.Warrior to queen.Friend to friend.He looked away first.
“I won’t say anything,” he said, the words rough.“Not to him.Not to her.For now.”
“For now,” she echoed, hating the way relief made her weak.
Wind stirred the leaves at their feet; the fountain’s arc hiccuped and smoothed.Somewhere, a far door slammed, the sound carrying like a warning.
Cush scrubbed a hand over his face, tired all at once.“I’m trying to protect the people I love.”
“So am I, so is Trik,” Cassie said.“We’re all doing it badly.”She stepped around him.“Tell Elora something.”
He arched a brow.“What?”
“Tell her to take her own advice about communication,” Cassie said, and started walking.“Both of you are in the wrong.”
She left the path and cut through the bright strips of sun toward the palace, fists tight in her pockets, breath sharp in her throat.Behind her, the garden carried on—birds arguing in the hedges, trainees laughing two paths over, water whispering to stone—as if the world hadn’t just shifted under her feet.Someone else knew her secret, and it wasn’t her mate.That thought made her sick.The bond throbbed, wounded and stubborn.Inside her, a smaller rhythm answered, steady and strong.She knew Cush wasn’t bluffing.Hewouldtell Trik.“Put on your big girl pants, Cassie,” she muttered under her breath.But even as she said it, instead of heading towards his study, she suddenly decided she was hungry and food sounded much better than dealing with his rejection.
CHAPTER5
“Unity’s never simple.Sometimes the cost is only clear after you’ve made the choice.”
~Tamsin
Syndra hadn’t meant to let two days slip by without checking in on Lisa.She told herself it was because of the book.Because of the vibrating unease that had settled over the palace since its light had brightened and then begun to falter, but even as she stood in Trik’s study, the mirror dormant on his desk, she knew it was partly avoidance.Lisa would hear the strain in her voice and know something was wrong.And Syndra wasn’t ready to tell her that something ancient was stirring again.
The Book of the Elves sat in the center of the room, its faint golden glow breathing in uneven pulses.The air hummed faintly around it, heavy with old magic and discontent.Syndra folded her arms, her jaw tightening.Magic shouldn’t feel this uncertain, it was like listening to a heartbeat falter and not being able to do anything to steady it.
The door opened softly behind her.“You’re still here,” Trik said.His voice was steady, but the rest of him wasn’t.He lingered in the doorway, tension in every line of his shoulders, the set of his mouth betraying exhaustion.In the low light, the silver of his eyes seemed almost brittle.
“Someone needs to be,” Syndra replied, keeping her voice level, though she didn’t turn from the book.“And you need rest.”She looked back at the book, before again looking at the king.“It’s growing worse.It’s like the whole palace is waiting for something to break.”
Trik hesitated, glancing at the book as if it might bite.“Cassie used to say this room felt safe.Now she says it feels like ants on her skin.”He rubbed the back of his neck, a rare, unguarded gesture.“The book’s not the only thing that’s changed.”
