“That was part of it, but the sadness,” Talon shook his head. “It went deeper. Cut sharper. You didn’t realize it was the mating bond at the time, but being separated from him has crippled you more than once.”
“Maybe Vairik’s right,” she whispered. “Maybe the bond is just an invisible set of shackles.”
He paused. “Maybe.”
“What about you? Are you happy with the one you’re bonded to?”
Talon swirled his drink. “I don’t know yet.”
Arianna could sense brutal honesty in his words. “You aren’t obligated, you know. You deserve to be happy.”
Talon scoffed. “You say I’m not obligated as if I’m capable of simply ignoring her.”
“It’ll be easier once she leaves.”
Talon straightened slightly. “Leaves?”
“After the war, should any of us survive it, she’ll go back to Fiadh. Distance is supposed to help—”
“It didn’t help you, and it certainly won’t help me.”
Silence settled between them. Arianna played with her hands. “You know, we might all die. It would probably be best to go without any regrets.”
“Now if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black I don’t know what is.”
She laughed to herself, downed the rest of her glass, then stood. “You know what, you’re right.”
“Where are you going?”
She gave him a warm smile. “To ensure those regrets don’t haunt me.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Arianna
Arianna stumbled down the hall, half giddy, half exhilarated, and completely free from the turmoil that had been plaguing her for the past several days. She could finally see the appeal of alcohol despite the horrid flavor. It felt like every worry had melted from her shoulders. She was free. Sleep would come easy tonight and perhaps, if she were lucky, the strong drink would keep her nightmares at bay, too.
Her guards paused at the end of the hall. Good, she didn’t want them overhearing anyway. Arianna’s gaze paused on a table laden with flowers. She used the wood to brace herself, then buried her nose in the sweet fragrance of a carnation. Its petals were wide and vibrant, not a speck of deterioration in sight.
Her eyes lifted to the door across the hall and Arianna forced her swimming mind to focus. She scented the air and her body reacted to that familiar smell.
Her fingers didn’t even shake as she reached for the handle, then let the door swing open.
That same scent assaulted her, along with the pleasant heat from the fire and the smell of cedar wood as it popped in the blazing hearth.
It was far too hot for a fire.
Rion was already on his feet, half turned, his magic rising, but when their eyes locked, he went utterly still. He hadn’t even finished turning. The male had one hand on the back of the armchair, the other extended midair as if he’d been reaching for something. A quick glance and she found a long knife resting on the end table.
“Arianna?” His voice was deep and rough, as if roused from sleep. The sound had her heart galloping, magic spreading through her limbs as if it knew to cool her down.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Rion straightened. Her eyes roamed across the planes of his bare chest, taking in every groove that spoke of a well-honed warrior. She counted every scar and mark, wondering what stories they might hold and whether she’d been told any of them.
Arianna’s mouth went dry as her gaze traveled lower, snagging at the band of his pants and the way they clung perfectly to his hips. Had he always been sculpted like a god? Why hadn’t she noticed before?
Arianna stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind her. She watched Rion’s nostrils flare and could have sworn his pupils dilated in response. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his as her fingertips grazed over everything in her path.
His gaze followed, watching her hands with barely contained fascination.
