Izabel shakes her head. “I’d be more worried about you if you weren’t. But I just want to make sure you remember that the pack is here for you. We miss you.Imiss you.”
Her eyes dart down to the engagement bracelet glittering on my wrist, and just as quickly, she looks away. I’m sure she’s been awfully curious about it over the past couple of days, but I haven’t been around for her to question me, and she’s mercifully been allowing me my space.
Still, I can’t keep this from her any longer. It isn’t right.
I hold my wrist out so she can see it properly—the wrought gold band, the shimmering black diamonds, the huge blood-red ruby at the center. “It’s an engagement bracelet. Killian proposed before the funeral, and I accepted.”
There’s a brief moment of shocked silence, then Izabel wrenches me closer andsqueals. Shrieks like a little girl. It’s high and piercing and fucking wonderful. “Iknewit!”
Then she gasps and stops her happy wiggling, pulling back from me.
“Wait, is it okay to be happy right now?”
“Yeah, Izabel. You can definitely be happy.” Ineedher happiness. It’s infectious and beautiful.
And she delivers. She starts hopping, seizes my wrist, and ogles the bracelet with cooing sounds of appreciation. “I’veneverseen anything like this, Meryn! This is ten times the bracelet my mother wears. Oh!” Her large eyes widen even more, if possible. “I just realized you’re going to be queen!”
Queen.
It sounds different, coming out of my friend’s mouth—like there’s truth to it, for the first time. The word sends a little shiver down my spine.
My face flushes. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“We’re going to have a Bonded queen! Wow. This calls for a celebration,” Izabel announces.
The thought of “celebrating” with the other Rawbonds is slightly nauseating. With the Unity Trial on the horizon, everyone is acting like it’s the end times and the situation in the common lounge has turned from a constant, sex-positive party to downright debauchery.
I’m honestly surprised I can’t hear the moaning from here.
Izabel must sense my immediate discomfort, because she doubles back. “Okay, not acelebration,” she says. “How about a casual hang with a couple of friends?”
I exhale in relief. “That, I can do.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m stepping into the pleasant heat of the kitchens. The room is unfamiliar to me. I’ve heard that Rawbonds sometimes come in here to sneak food outside of mealtimes, but I’d never felt the inclination to visit it myself—it’s not like they skimp on food at our meals.
The kitchen is massive, with tall cabinets and counters, stone floors, and an arched hearth big enough to fit all five of us inside. There are metal racks over the heat meant for pots, as well as allotted corners near the flames for bread to rise. The air smells like the bundles of herbs hanging all around us, deliciously stinging spice, and the lingering warmth of the stew we had for dinner. The workspace is covered in neatly arranged ingredients.
The space is surprisingly empty of staff, which seems suspicious until I realize that Tomison is here. The man has the uncanny ability to convince people to do whatever he asks with just a smile. No doubt, he’s responsible for our privacy.
Nevah sits on the counter near him. Tomison says something to her, and she immediately reaches up to grab a hanging bundle of herbs and smacks him in the face with it.
“Not the face!” Tomison shouts, shielding himself with his arms. “Everyonelovesthe face!”
“That’s what you’d like to think,” Izabel quips as we walk up to them.
“Good to see you’ve emerged from hibernation,” Nevah says to me as I lean my hip against the counter she’s sitting on.
I raise a brow. “I saw you at training only a few hours ago.”
“That’s different,” Tomison says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“Pantry is full, Tomison,” Venna announces as she joins us with an armful of goods—eggs, butter, and a mixing bowl. “I didn’t find flour, though.”
Tomison pushes off of the counter. “I know where it is,” he tells us and disappears into the pantry.
Nevah slides down and grins, reaching past me for something. She produces a bottle of emberwine and pops it open using just her thumb. “Let’s get drunk,” she says, and Venna lets out awhoop.
Nevah pours cups for us all as Tomison reemerges, clutching a bag of flour. Izabel takes it from him, then points him to the eggs. “Your next task.”
