Evera only frowned. “Tea?”
“In the tower house, you promised me—” My words came quickly, but I caught them, swallowed them. Beneath my skin, the familiar crawling of my monster reminded me of his presence and of my own lack of control over my emotions. “You swore.”
Realization dawned across her face. “I made the tea. Neirin, I’m not …” She frowned. “I only wanted to know why. Seeing you with Calix …”
I released a heavy breath, relief easing my muscles as I released her shoulders too. “Calix is not like other children, and the situation is complicated.” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I would relent to Evera’s pressing questions, not wanting to keep things from her, even as answering her unsettled me. “My mother was like me. If I inherited this bloodline from her, I could pass it on to my own children. Is that not how it works?”
A sadness clouded Evera’s eyes, and she took one of my hands in hers. There was no need for her to respond; I knew the answer, and by the set of her jaw, I could tell she was equally aware.
I cast my eyes aside. “I will not create another monster.”
For a moment, stillness fell around us. In the neighboring pasture, a foal burst into a run, legs flashing like quicksilver beneath the sun, while its mothers warning snort rippled through the air. The breeze that followed, curled around us like a whisper, heavy with the green-sweet perfume of budding leaves and the promise of new grass, as though even the season itself leaned closer to listen. .
“Neirin.” She squeezed my hand. “Why do you think you’re a monster?”
The fox’s claws dug in, raking beneath my skin. Heat pooled through my veins, and my breath quickened. The creature was growing stronger, reacting faster to my lapses in control, latching on to the moments when emotions overcame me and using them as a pathway toward overpowering me.
Evera sighed. “You don’t have to answer …”
Why do you think you’re a monster?
“My brother,” I said, the words a low rasp. If not by blood, then by heart, Thatcher would always be remembered as a brother in my eyes. “Thatch, he—” Flexing my right hand into a fist, I fought to steady my heart rate. The image of his lastlabored breaths and of the metallic reek of his blood returned to me in a rush.
Steadying my shaking hands, I stepped to Evera and drew her reflexively to my chest, burying my nose in her curls and inhaling the scent of her. She tensed at first but quickly relaxed, then her arms came around my waist.Safe. She was safe.
“Please, let me hold you for just a moment longer,” I pleaded, the words coming broken, weak, desperate. Although that weakness should have further unsettled me, further fed my monster, my tension only eased when Evera was in my arms.
All outward thoughts fell away, not unlike the way they did when I fought. Yet this clarity came not from a rush of adrenaline or an ingrained response to the prospects of life and death. It came with a comfort, a soothing sort of warmth. One that eased my body and lent my thoughts to a contented quiet. Reminiscent almost of the sensations that came just before slipping into sleep. As I held her, nothing else existed beyond the scent of my mate and the warmth of her body. She fit in my embrace as if we were crafted for each other.
Mate. I hated that word. It was a term used to describe the pairing of animals. Yet that was what the old man had called us. True mates. And damned if the urge to think of her that way came from my creature; I didn’t care. She was mine.No, I am hers.
When my body settled, I drew back, and she raised her chin to meet my eyes. “I shouldn’t have pressed.”
“No,” I countered. “My monster—” No use speaking. I knew what her response would be. “Myfox… He seeks control when I’m unsettled. It’s growing harder for me to push him down.”
Her brows turned in, and her mouth formed a thin line. Silently, I pleaded she would not press further. I was not ready to revisit the darkest of my memories or voice the truth of what happened that day. After all these years, I’d not spoken it, notsince Astraea had knelt before me and told me the penalty of what I’d done, the repercussions. And, beyond those, the effects such knowledge would have on Nyana. It would shatter her to know I was responsible for her son’s death. A tremble coursed down my spine even as I held Evera in my arms.
“Neirin.” Evera’s soft coaxing drew my mind back. She reached a hand up and brushed the hair above my brows to the side, not unlike she’d done with her mare.
The trail of her touch unleashed within me a longing for the kind of companionship I’d never held faith in or even had desire for in the past. For all the cruelties magic had played on me in my life, just this once, perhaps fate had smiled upon me.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.
Dragging her fingers down the length of my jawline, Evera hummed. “For what?” Her palm cupped my cheek, and her thumb swept once over my bottom lip before she raised her eyes, the coloring of them even more stunning somehow in the light of late dawn.
For giving me a chance. For not pushing me away, though I would understand if you do. For this bonding that neither of us can control, yet which resonates with me to my very being. For not balking in the castle corridors or before the King’s body, or any time since.
“I am just grateful for you,” I said, for there seemed no way to describe the swirl of emotions holding me in place.
She smiled and sighed. Withdrawing her hand and placing it on my chest, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her nose along mine. When I shuddered a breath, she lowered back to the heels of her boots.
“Tease,” I lectured.
Grinning, she laughed, and the sound was more beautiful than birdsong or the thrum of a harp or even the crashing of the waves.
On an impulse, I took her hips in my hands and spoke against her ear. “Swing your leg over.”
“What?”
