“Yes.”
Her gaze flicks briefly toward the drunken man still scratching at the sigil before returning to me.
“You didn’t burn him.”
“No.”
The word leaves me rougher than intended. She studies me for a long moment, something complicated shifting behind her eyes. Maybe Concern or Understanding. And, unexpectedly, pride.
“You’re learning too,” she says quietly.
The bond warms faintly at the words despite the pain still gripping my chest. Perhaps she is correct. Control, it seems, is not solely her lesson to learn.
13
ELOWEN
The cottage feels smaller tonight. Not because anything inside it has changed, but because the tension between Threxian and me fills the space in a way that leaves very little room for anything else.
The day had been long and exhausting in ways that had nothing to do with physical labor. Word of the council’s planned spiritual inquiry spread through Briarthorn before midday, and every conversation since then had carried the same careful weight of suspicion.
By the time the sun disappeared beyond the marsh reeds, I found myself standing at my cottage door with only one thought repeating quietly in my mind.
I did not want to face the night alone. Which is how Threxian ends up standing inside my home again.
He steps through the doorway with the quiet confidence that seems to define every movement he makes, his wings folding slightly to avoid brushing the wooden frame. The dim firelight from the hearth reflects faintly along the midnight-slicked planes of his skin, catching in the liquid sunlight colour of his eyes as they settle on me.
“You invited me in again,” he says.
His voice carries that familiar note of amusement that suggests he has already drawn several conclusions about my reasons.
“I did.”
“And you are certain that is wise?”
His mouth curves slowly upward as he studies me.
“Inviting a wrath demon into your home two nights in a row could be considered reckless behavior.”
“Then it’s fortunate that I’ve never been particularly cautious.”
That earns a low chuckle from him. The sound vibrates faintly through the bond.
I close the door behind him and lean back against it for a moment, gathering the words I have been trying to organize since the afternoon.
“There is something I want to understand,” I say.
His attention sharpens immediately.
“Ask.”
I hesitate only briefly.
“The mate bond.”
The word shifts the atmosphere between us instantly. Threxian goes still and the air feels heavier.
“What about it?” he asks quietly.
