“My kingdom orme?”
“Your kingdom!”
Silence follows my reply. The swampy sort—viscous and rife with things that can be felt but not seen.
Konstantin rolls his neck, which seems to drive the blood back down into the rest of his body. “Glad to hear I’m not entirely off-putting.”
“You’re not all thaton-puttingeither,” I mutter, which results in softening his features.
“Is there a way to sever a mating bond? In case one does snap into place between us.”
The muscle behind my ribs clenches, deadens. “Yes.”
“Then after the prophecy plays out, we can dothat.”
“Can’t believe you’d rather be dead than mated to me.”
“What?”
“The only way to sever a bond is if one of us perishes. Since I’m quasi-immortal, that makes the most probable candidate for eternal slumberyou, Vizosh.” I lean back in my chair and fold my arms, relishing the veil that blanches his complexion.
“Don’t Shabbins know of some severing spell?”
Voice as serrated as my heartbeats, I bite out, “I’ve never heard of one, but I’ll be sure to ask around.”
He unhooks his foot and parts his thighs, and then he leans over. I think he means to steady my bouncing knee, but in the end, he doesn’t touch me. Which, for the sake of his fingers, is a sensible decision. I might not be able to shorten them with a spell, but I’m just vexed enough to grind his phalanges using brute force.
“Perhaps your grandfather was right, and the ring has nothing to do with a mating bond.” His pupils are so enlarged they devour his irises, leaving behind only metallic rings. “Perhaps you wear it to draw out my niece.”
“Niece, huh? You’ve come around to the prospect that you might have one?”
“I’d be astounded if I did. Nevertheless, for everyone to have thought my sister the victim of the prophecy—people who’ve interacted with her—leads me to think that the resemblance must be striking.”
“It is.” I picture my victim, then the painting on the wall.
My grandmother’s words bite into my skull again.When did our paths cross, Taytah? Since I arrived in Glace?Why didn’t I think to ask her?
“Why would it draw her out?” I ask.
“Because it’s a family heirloom, and the girl considers it part of her heritage? It makes sense, doesn’t it? That you’d wear it as a lure because we’re accomplices.”
The lump in my throat turns jagged.
Konstantin tilts his head and absorbs my disenchantment. Then, with a temperate smile, he tosses my earlier words right back in my face: “What’s with the rage-pout? I’ve just found you a way out of an undesirable union.”
I might not be the most prideful person on this earth, but his solution…hisrejectioncuts.
“You don’t want to be mated to me,” he says with a wary sigh.
“You’re right. I don’t.” I can’t believe I ever found him remotely pleasant. “Now that I know how you feel, I wouldn’t accept to marry my mate if it did turn out to be you.”
“Miss Ríhbiadh, I’d be doing us a favor by rejecting the bond. You don’t want to spend your life in Glace. You said so yourself.” A white tendril has escaped his top knot and fallenacross his face. It sticks to his lips, which round as he blows it away.
His mouth moves again, but I don’t hear what he’s saying this time, because I’ve just recalled a detail that feels important.
“She had a mole over her lip!”
“Many people have moles.”
