As we walk, I concentrate on the pulse point at her neck, which quakes with brisker beats.
Did your father say anything?
What?
You weren’t nervous before…
I’m not nervous.She smiles.I’mexcited. Stop projecting. Andstopbeing nervous.
Easier said than done. What if the Cauldron cancels our mating bond? What if it steals my magic…or worse, Isla’s magic? What if?—
“Before we proceed with the blood-bind,” Zendaya says, “the Mahananda would like to see you and Lorcan. Together.”
Meriam was wrong. I’m not about to scale to great heights; I’m about to plummet to great depths.
60
ISLA
My poor mate hardens to ice beside me.
I try to offer him comfort. “From what I’ve heard, it’s actually very relaxing once you’re inside.”
The side-eye he slants me would’ve made me chortle had tension not nibbled at my heart. Yes, I lied. Shoot me. I take that back. I never want to get shot again.
Why am I nervous? Because the last time my father went inside it, it stripped Mádhi of her magic.
Do not go there,I chide myself.
Konstantin has never acted against the Cauldron’s wishes. Even when he removed its present from his neck, he did it to save his sister and me.
My mate’s heart is pure and noble. I look over at Mimi, who stands between Bisnonno and Agrippina. She wears a smile. If she smiles, then nothing bad is about to happen.Right?
“Should I go inside as well?” I ask, still gripping Konstantin’s arm.
“No.” Taytah pushes her long pink braid off her shoulder. “Just Lore and Konstantin.”
My mate’s chest lifts with a fortifying breath that fortifies neither him nor me, then slips his arm out of my clammy grip. “After you, Ríhbiadh.”
“By all means”—my father uncrosses his arms—“you go first. It’syourbig day, after all.”
My mother shakes her head as she parks herself at my side and twines one hand with mine, resting the other on her rounding abdomen. “For two ruthless leaders, you’re acting awfully squeamish.”
My father arches a brow before dematerializing and reappearing on the Cauldron’s mirror-like surface. Green tints Konstantin’s spectral complexion as he steels his spine and steps onto the hard surface, stopping a foot away from my father.
Suddenly, they sink.
My lungs burn from the rapid flux of air sluicing through me. “Do you know what’s about to happen?”
“No one knows,” Shoshair murmurs, coming to stand beside my mother, dark eyes refracting the metal-tinge of the Cauldron.
“All it showed Behati was that our mates had to head inside together,” Mádhi explains. “And all it told Amma was that it was a present.”
“A good present or a bad present?” Izolda asks, stepping up beside me, rubbing her collarbone.
I reach out my free hand to clasp hers. Her icy fingers fold over mine and squeeze.
We hang on to each other as time crawls by like a cursed hourglass with forever-regenerating grains of sand.
