"I suppose that's slightly less devastating."
The corner of his mouth curves.
"Some cultures believe it means you have a bonded mate out there, waiting." He laughs quietly when he sees my expression shift. "Would that be so terrible?"
I glance at him sideways. "I've never even considered children. You think I've spent time contemplating bonded mates?"
"Then we have that in common."
Something in my chest tightens. It's a strange, complicated feeling. Part of me wants him to say he wishes I were his true bonded mate. The other part aches for the fact that he's never allowed himself to imagine having one at all.
We emerge from the canopy into the glow of Veneficia Alley. Music drifts from somewhere ahead, lively and bright, at odds with the weight of our conversation.
"What happens if you're already with someone when you meet your bonded mate?"
"I imagine you'd have a difficult conversation ahead of you. Assuming you chose to pursue your bonded mate." He pauses. "Though I suspect the conversation would be uncomfortable either way."
"So you don't have to accept your bonded mate?"
"Of course not. Both parties have to choose. The bond only holds if both sides consent." He shoots me a pointed look. "Our current situation notwithstanding."
"What if one chooses and the other doesn't?"
"Then one of them spends the rest of their life carrying the ache alone."
"That sounds dramatic."
His lip twitches. "Perhaps. But imagine knowing the person the gods chose for you is living happily with someone else. That you could have had them, and chose not to."
"What if someone has multiple bonded mates?"
His eyes glint in the lantern light. "Not in this realm. Though I've heard it works differently elsewhere."
"Fascinating," I murmur.
"Could you handle multiple mates?"
I scoff. "If it's anything like what we have? Absolutely not." I meet his gaze. "And I wouldn't want to."
His chuckle dies abruptly. His gaze snaps to something in the alley ahead. Before I can see what caught his attention, he's pulling me off the main road and into the shadows of a side street. His grip on my arm is tight. Urgent.
"Go straight to Siren's. Tell Kage to meet me here."
"What is it? Who did you see?"
"I'll explain later." His eyes are hard. "Go. Now."
I nod and rush towards Siren’s. I find Kage laughing with a stranger in the middle of the street. The moment I relay Malachi's message, all traces of humor vanish. He heads toward the alley without a word.
I stand there, torn between following and continuing on. The door to Siren's opens before I can decide and Naima steps out. We both freeze when we realize we're dressed identically—the same armor, the same cape, the same silver cuffs. For a moment, we just stare. Then we're laughing, pulling each other into a tight embrace.
“I needed this right now,” she breathes against my ear and holds me tighter when I stiffen. “Jordi’s fine, as far as we know, but Arlo came to deliver other concerning news. He doesn’t want all of us seen together, so he’s waiting in a private room near the stairs. When we go inside, smile, wave, and act natural. There are people in there we need to avoid.”
My heart pounds as she drapes an arm over my shoulders and guides me inside. I paste on a smile and play along, waving at familiar faces, pretending nothing is wrong as she leads me to the private room. It's the performance of my life.
The room is small and dim, lit only by a single sconce. Arlo stands near the window, dressed in his new uniform —dark green with thick gold epaulettes and gleaming buttons. His blond hair is tied back, revealing his arched ears. For a long moment, neither of us moves.
I study the sharp lines of his face. The cheekbones, the jaw, those soft green eyes that haven't changed since we were children. I don't know who moves first. One moment I'm by the door. The next, I'm in his arms, and we're both crying into each other's shoulders like the world is ending. Maybe it is.
