Heraphia took her place at my side, meeting my eyes for a fleeting moment. The depth of her pain slammed into me in that single second.
“You’ll make it through today,” I told her fiercely.
Her fingers tightened over a rough aquamarine—the same color as her powerful irises. “For Zuriel.”
Because her husband, the male she loved with a fierceness I envied, was out there, fighting this war.
Guilt gnawed at me. I could have been using my gift to help him. But instead, I had just eaten a dose of herbs that would prevent the Goddess from delivering me a prophecy.
I was so fucking selfish.
The Korona spoke to us again, but her words drowned in the tide of my self-loathing.
The lights dimmed, then stuttered out completely.
A footstool rested in front of me since I couldn’t bend my injured knee—at least not for the endless hours spent in this chair. The other, I tucked beneath me. My shoe dug into my thigh, so I plucked it off and placed it on the floor.
But I still couldn’t get comfortable. A servant appeared in the darkness, bubbles of light framing her head to guide her way, with an armful of pillows and blankets. Wordlessly, she padded the space around me. My bones sighed their relief as I sank into them, drawing comfort at last.
Then, she fanned me with a large palm. The breeze was welcome as smoke filled the room.
“Can I have something to spit in?” I whispered to her. She nodded, fetching a porcelain bowl for me.
I wasted no time expelling the sense-opening herbs, unable to stand their taste any longer. Sipped water did nothing to banish the flavor either. Suppressing a groan, I settled back, trying to direct my mind on something, anything, other than my current suffering.
Someone in the distance whimpered. I shot up in an instant, searching for who had made the noise. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck as the female a few places down from me twisted in her crystal chair, nails raking down her face and leaving red welts in their wake.
“Try to relax,” the female cooling me murmured. She increased the pace, air brushing over my skin and drying sweaty strands of my hair.
Body coiled tight, I sank back onto the pillows. Yet I couldn’t force myself to let my lids drop. I glanced at Heraphia, sitting in perfect meditation posture. Her keeper was poised, charcoal on parchment, for her to utter a word.
The Korona paced the length of the aisle of chairs. I tracked her movement, glancing away every time she was seconds from turning her head in my direction.
On her next pass, I forced my eyes closed, if only to hide from her piercing gaze.
An hour passed. Another. It felt like years with how forcefully my heart thundered against my ribs, never ceasing its squall.
“Would you like to try something else to See?” my attendant murmured.
“Perhaps a stone,” I told her. That seemed less risky.
The breeze stilled around me as she disappeared to fetch methe object. I opened my palm to receive it when she returned. A heavy weight pressed into my hand, and I brought it to the center of my lap.
I tried to sink into a trance to pass the time. Yet the deeper into meditation I went, the more my mate surged. Every moment with him flashed like strikes of lightning. A soul deep ache shallowed my breath.
At least he’d protected me.
He was showing me he cared…
But that didn’t change our circumstances. I was a prisoner. He was betrothed. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to change that either.
Why did I care so fucking much? I kept telling him I loathed him, I didn’t want him.
Our last few days on the road had altered that for me. And I couldn’t bring myself back to the moments after our bond had solidified.
Hate. Love. They were one and the same.
I didn’t love the Issaraeth; it was simply the undeniable pull from our fated connection. The Goddess might have bound us, but She didn’t have the power to force me to feel what I did not.
