“I am, Evera,” he said, the seriousness returning to his features. “Lie back down.”
I curled against him again. “None of this feels real. Feels possible.”
“It is a lot,” he agreed.
Trying to piece things together, I twisted a curl of Neirin’s hair with my finger. “Your mother, then, she was the King’s mistress?”
“Yes. My mother was like me, a shifter. She carried the blood of the gods. Before I met you and learned of the bonds, I didn’t know what she and my father shared. Though it was evident that he grieved for her even after all these years. I understand why now. They were mates.” Neirin nuzzled the top of my head.“Your mentor spoke of infertility. Does that mean Harlan …”
“Harlan is the late King’s son. Or, at least, I have no reason to believe he isn’t. The infertility only affects shifters. Just as I could have a child without you, you could not have one without me. Your father, being human, would have been able to have a child outside of his bond, would have been able to have a child with Astraea.”
He hummed thoughtfully, as if my explanation resolved all questions. I huffed a laugh.
“What amuses you?” he asked, tone lighter as he pressed a kiss to my head.
“The absurdity of this all,” I answered. “Each time I learn something about you, you become more elusive, more … impossible.”
“Impossible?”
“Yes,” I said flatly.
“I do not mean to be elusive.” He stroked his thumb at my shoulder. “But I understand why you would feel that way. It is fair.”
Sighing, I gazed out the window. Only the murky blackness of night and the shadows of branches and leaves were visible through the glass panes.
“What of the man in the garden?” I asked. Though absolutely everything about what Neirin had just said was life-altering, what I needed to understand most was his character.
Quiet befell us. Embers popped and crackled in the hearth, and against the windows, a faint patter announced the start of rain.
“You saw him?”
Clenching my jaw, I nodded into the crook of his neck.
“And do you know what it means when a man is executed in such a way?”
The knot in my throat returned, thick and choking as images of the rod impaling the man through the chest came to my mind. “No.”
“That man—” Neirin cut himself off. “He took girls, forced them. That is why his body must be found. It’s a small penance for those he hurt. To be impaled as he is, is a mark that tells who he was as a man, what he died for.”
“Like the other man you spoke of? Back in the stable?”
“The man I killed for my blooding? Yes. Such men don’t deserve to live.”
Outside the windows, the rain picked up, and a wind howled, echoing through the chimney. My fingers returned to tracing the faint lines of Neirin’s scars. “I thought perhaps you’d discovered the assassin.”
“No,” Neirin confessed. “I considered his father, the commander, but now”—he wet his lips—“I am left without any reasonable suspect. It will be harder for my brother to take my word, I presume, if I cannot reveal the assassin.”
“But you must return regardless, yes?”
“Yes. If someone is after the throne, Harlan’s life may lie in the balance. I cannot abandon him.”
“I understand,” I said. “I would risk my life for my brother as well.” And that’s what it would come to for Neirin—risking his life. To save a King.
33
NEIRIN
Sunlight streamed through the windows,stirring me from my sleep. It was early morning, and the fire in the hearth was nothing but coals.My left arm tingled, numb, tucked beneath Evera just as it was when I fell asleep. Our fingers were intertwined, and the marks of our bonds lay parallel.
