And Feylin is offering me a way out.
It’s the best of both worlds—my family’s magic will remain strong when Blair marries, and I won’t have to swap nuptials with anyone.
But still, there are the fine details to hatch out. “My family’s magic won’t survive unless there’s a union.”
He takes an intimidating step forward, shadows falling over his shoulders. “Then return to the ball and find someone to marry—perhaps the man who announced that you’reunmarriablehas changed his mind.”
Right. Okay then. Maybe Feylin’s wayisthe best.
But before I make any decisions, there are still unanswered questions. “So what is the joining? What magic did you unleash?”
“The spell was created to ensure that couples in arranged marriages learned about one another before the wedding. It was a way of bonding the two.”
“How?”
He glances away. “By making them inseparable.”
This doesn’t sound so good anymore. “Inseparable. Can you please elaborate on that?”
“We can’t be far from each other, if I remember the spell correctly.”
“Far from each other? Like, how far?”
His gaze scans the room as if he’d rather look anywhere but at my face. “I don’t know the limits.”
“Try to know them.”
He shifts his weight again, this time sighing like I’m a nuisance.Me. I’m not the one who ignited some weird-ass spell from centuries long past.
“Perhaps forty yards is the limit.”
Forty yards? Panic claws up my throat. This is why my family’s so upset. This means that I’ll have to be with him, night and day. I don’t know him. I don’t even like him, and now we’re about to be joined at the hip? This is not the trivial spell that I imagined. This is real.
My knees quiver, but I will not show weakness. I haven’t shown him any yet, and this won’t be the first time that I do.
Besides, if this minor inconvenience is what it takes to give me breathing room, it’s worth a shot. ”But we won’t marry. Right?”
“Not if I can help it,” he replies, sounding as uninterested in that idea as I am.
Well, at least we’re on the same page when it comes to nuptials. “So what does this mean in terms of logistics?”
“It means”—those dark eyes flash on me, and I’m barely able to swallow the knot jamming up my throat—“you’ll have to come with me.”
“To where?” It’s a stupid question. I know the answer, but I want to hear him say it.
“To the castle, to my realm.”
Sweat sprouts on my forehead. I swipe it off and notice hisskin’s perfectly dry. He’s not sweating about this one bit. “I’m supposed to go to your castle.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never been to a castle.”
He flicks his hand, gesturing to the room. “It’s like this, but bigger.”
Somehow I doubt the castle’s filled with mismatched bricks, a fireplace scorched with burn marks and colorful crocheted blankets that cover literally every chair and couch. “And are there servants?”
“It’s a castle,” he tells me dryly.
