I’ve never surrendered in battle. Not once. I only know how to conquer and keep killing. I only know how to take what I want by force.
But I cannot force Isabel to care for me. The bond might compel her to feel attracted to me, but it won’t force her to love me. At least I don’t think it will. And if she never agrees to mate with me… well, the mating bond will never fully form between us.
A very dark thought strikes me.
If we never physically consummate our union, she will perish long before I do. I’ll outlive her for thousands of years, cursed to walk this realm alone. But if she allows me to claim her and we remain together, my magic will influence her lifespan, allowing her to live just as long as I do.
“Is it almost morning?” she asks.
“Yes, we should leave soon,” I say, giving her hand another squeeze. “What town are we traveling to? The larger town in the area—I believe it’s called Hollins—or one of the smaller villages to the west?” Last night, I’d just departed one of those smaller villages and was on my way to Hollins when I heard her scream.
“Hollins.”
“Before we leave, I suppose we should finish the conversation we were having last night.”
“Ah. Yes. I wanted to know who turned my father and me in for fleeing Braemar.” She flushes. “You made it sound as though someone reported our names directly to the Winter King, and I must confess that seems a bit strange. My father and I weren’t elected officials or anyone of importance, and while he was once a soldier, he’s long retired. He didn’t fight in the battle. As far as I know, he’s never killed a fae male, though I suspect he’s killed his fair share of orcs.”
“I don’t believe anyone witnessed you escape the walls of Braemar, little moth. King Theron has recently acquired a human female, one he seems increasingly devoted to, and she is the one who asked him to look into your welfare after you failed to show up at the castle on Tribute Day. Her name is Helena.”
Isabel’s eyes widen and fill with tears. She blinks fast and gives her head a slight shake, as though to banish a moment of confusion. “Helena. Oh, my gods. She’s alive? She’s okay?”
I nod. “Yes, she’s alive, and I believe she’s just fine. She was captured on the streets of Braemar by Prince Alaric, who is King Theron’s younger brother, and the prince brought herto the king as a gift. As far as I know, King Theron hasn’t harmed Helena. In fact, I’ve heard whispers that she might be his mate reincarnated. He was mated once, long ago, but his mate… perished. Helena bears an uncanny resemblance to his late mate, and he’s very protective of her.”
Isabel stares at me warily for a moment as she digests this information, news that is quite shocking to her. Eventually, she sighs, and I sense her cautious relief for her friend.
“I’m thankful that she’s alive. I was so worried about her. She’s my dearest friend. Well… my only friend. She was renting the upstairs room in the bakery where I lived with Papa, and she just disappeared one day. Papa went looking for her, but he never found her. We assumed she’d been captured by your people and was perhaps being kept as a slave.”
“She’s definitely King Theron’s captive,” I say, still resolved to be honest with her, "but as I said, I don’t believe he’s ever harmed her. The fact that he went out of his way to try to track down her missing friends—you and your father—makes me suspect that if she’s not his mate, then she’s a treasured concubine.”
“Concubine? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Concubines have a higher status and are treated better than the pleasure slaves my people sometimes keep,” I say, scooting closer to her.
“Well, I’m glad she’s alive, though I hope the king eventually sets her free.” Isabel suddenly avoids my gaze, and I sense the not-so-hidden meaning in her words.
“I doubt King Theron will set Helena free.” I release her hand and grasp her chin gently between my fingers, forcing her to meet my stare. “Just as I will never set you free. You are mine, Isabel Sinclair. My little moth. My mate.”
CHAPTER 9
ISABEL
To my surprise,Gideon doesn’t confiscate the knives I stole. Instead, he loops my undisturbed rucksack over his shoulder next to his own pack, then sweeps me into his arms. His peppermint breath wafts over me, as well as the aroma of pine that emanates from him. He’s physically cold, but the chill doesn’t bother me.
It’s as though every time my natural body heat meets his natural chill, we both greedily absorb what the other is giving, finding unexpected comfort in the exchange. It’s as if we balance one another in some strange way, a way I don’t want to examine too closely.
As he carries me outside the cave, the light breakfast he offered me of dried berries and flatbread rumbles faintly in my stomach. The thought of flying through the sky at the same hasty speed as the night prior sends a burst of nausea up my throat.
“I will fly slowly,” he says in a reassuring tone.
“How did you know what I was thinking?” I ask, praying he can’t suddenly read my thoughts. Considering my plans to run away from him, that would be rather inconvenient.
“You just grew pale as you glanced over the ledge of the cave.”
“Oh.” Relief rushes through me, and most of my queasiness dissipates. My secrets are still mine to keep, though I can’t help but wonder how long that will be the case.
To my utter shock, he lifts me higher and leans down to place a soft, lingering kiss on my forehead. His lips are as cold and enticing as I imagined, and waves of heat surge to my center. It’s all I can do to keep from gasping.
After he straightens, I stare up at him wordlessly, still stunned by the action. It was a kiss that felt far too sweet for my liking. His eyes gleam with warmth, and a smile tugs at his lips. Not a smirk, but a real smile. It makes my heart flutter. It also causes the heat gathering in my core to pulse faster.
