Her nervous tension vibrated through the bond.
“Which vow did you break?” Her voice was quieter now, less assured.
“The one you set before everything else.” He raised his head to see her reaction. Her face was pale in the lamplight, but red circles burned high on her cheeks. “I bit you, Hanna. Last night, while you were unconscious. You were hemorrhaging, and they couldn’t stop the bleeding. Aalis told me the venom in a mating bite might close the wound, and without it, you would die.”
He reached up to her neck, caressing the healed bite. Her fingers followed his, tracing the crescents, and he flooded their connection with his love for her.
She sucked in a breath, realization dawning on her face. “The bond I feel. It’s not him.”
He nodded slowly. “It’s me.”
He braced for their connection to harden with a cold, bright edge of betrayal. All day while he was frozen, he’d rehearsed this moment, building and rebuilding the mind walls that would hold him upright when she told him to leave.
But instead of her fury, he felt only her disbelief. “But I thought that was impossible when I already had another bond?”
“You lost enough blood during the birth to sever it.” He didn’t tell her the rest, that her attacker was dead by his hands. That truth could come later, when she was stronger. Tonight was forthistruth only: they were now true mates. “When I bit you, the new bond took because the old one was already gone.”
“We’re mated,” she said wonderingly.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, feeling unsteady and realizing she could probably feel his unsteadiness. It was its own kind ofnakedness. “If you cannot forgive me, I’ll move back to the Tower and make arrangements to see the child as much or as little as you prefer. You will keep Rose House. I won’t contact you through the bond or use it to find you or force you to feel anything. You have suffered enough through your old mate bond. I won’t do that to you again.”
“Rikard, I—”
“I need you to understand why I did it.” He pressed forward, the words spilling out before she sent him away. “Aalis said you had only minutes. The child was in the cradle, crying, and I could not—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I could not leave her motherless. I could not stand in that room and watch my wife bleed out on the sheets because I was too honorable to break a promise. I love you, and I couldn’t lose you like that.”
Hanna’s eyes squeezed shut, and her shoulders shook as a tear leaked down her cheek. He didn’t dare seek her through the bond and find out what she was feeling, hearing his words.
“Life without you is like the gardens were when the house was abandoned,” he barreled on, his heart flayed open and defiant. “Thorns without roses. I have lived in that garden, Hannalinde. I can’t do it again. I know I offered to stay in the Tower, but please don’t send me away. You are my wife. My mate. My love. I wanted to give you a mating bite anyway. Even before, when you were in no danger of dying. I wanted to, and I would have, and I’m not sorry I did it!”
Shame suffused him at the outburst. He couldn’t look at her face until she tugged his horn, asking him to. His eyes were blurred with tears, so he couldn’t make out her expression. He read the bond instead, feeling he deserved whatever it contained: revulsion or pity or anger. Perhaps she even hated him.
But instead, it was full of kind warmth, like a lit hearth. She toyed with a lock of his hair. “I am not sorry you did, either. I’m very glad to have my life. I am very glad to haveyou.”
Fallen gods, she was not going to reject him. His gratitude crashed into hers inside their mental tether, winding around each other. She didn’t have to say it: she was as glad to be his mate as he was to be hers. It was what shewanted.
“Get off the floor,” she said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “We have a baby to name.”
He rose and joined her in bed. As soon as he settled, she lifted the child from her breast and placed the baby in his arms.
The weight was nothing, no heavier than a loaf of bread. A few pounds of warmth and damp linen. The universe compressed into a bundle the length of his forearm, exhaling sweet milky breath against his chest.
“Your heir as promised.” Hannalinde smiled indulgently, watching him hold the hatchling close.
“My daughter,” he said, the bond singing between them. “We’ll call her Rosalore.”
Chapter 32
Rikard
Ahalf dozen nights after the birth, Rikard roosted in the bedroom, watching Hannalinde sleep with the baby on her chest. Both of them were dreaming, and he could observe the ebb and flow of their imaginations through the bonds, his with Hanna and Hanna’s with Rosalore.
Their dreams were much the same tonight. Hanna was dreaming of rose petals and honey on her breakfast oats, and Rosalore dreamed of a moth fluttering above her mother’s soft breast.
A knock came at the door downstairs. Reluctantly, he left his roost to answer it, as the hour was late enough that all the human servants were asleep. He hated to disturb their well-earned rest, so he descended the stairs in a hurry.
He opened the door to find a gargoyle standing uneasily on the stone steps. Probably unused to touching the ground. He was barely more than a fledgling, with small horns and sandy-brown hide, but he wore the Tower insignia on his harness.
His eyes moved over Rikard with quick assessment, cataloging his scars and bound wings to confirm his identity. “Nadir. I’m here on the Zenith’s authority regarding a serious matter in the hunting lands. May I ask you a few questions?”
