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Sion's back ached from hours of sitting against the wall. Phillippe and Charly had offered to guard Brandle, but Sion refused. He would ensure Brandle didn't escape or slink off into the night. Despite Cyrus's magical enforcement of the room, Sion felt compelled to keep constant watch.

He stretched his legs, his boot scraping against the stone floor. Relief washed over him at being back in his normal clothing and home lands. As he scratched his head, his mind wandered to recent events, inevitably settling on Selenia. Could it be possible? Was he truly fated to her? It would explain the unfamiliar feelings stirring within him.

From his limited knowledge of fated matings, they typically manifested after the teenage years but before middle age. He hadn't felt this way about Selenia when he last saw her two years ago. Didn't Grayden have feelings for Renya before they were fated? Sion longed to ask him but suspected any conversation about Selenia wouldn't be well-received.

The patter of quiet footsteps drew his attention. He recoiled into the shadows, straining to identify the late-night visitor.

Selenia's slight frame came into view as she rounded the corner, her auburn hair flowing freely down her back. She wore a white nightdress with a crimson robe cinched around her narrow waist. Sion watched as she approached the weapons room door, confused over her purpose here. When she turned, he caught the glint of Grayden's dagger in the torchlight. She attempted to open the door quietly, but it wouldn't budge.

“It's locked by magic, Selenia,” Sion said softly.

She jumped, dropping the dagger with a clatter that echoed off the stone walls.

“Sion!” she squealed, her face flushing. He rose and walked over, retrieving and inspecting the dagger.

“How did you manage to steal your brother's dagger?”

She bit her lip. “It's not his. It's Renya's. He had a copy made for her. I knew they would likely be...preoccupied this evening, so I took it from their room.”

“Why? Why kill Brandle?” Sion asked, fighting the urge to run his fingers through her wild ringlets. She looked stunning in the torchlight, her pale skin aglow.

“You know why,” she murmured, eyes fixed on her silk slippers.

Sion frowned. “For me? Selenia, I'm not worth killing for. I wouldn't want your soul darkened.”

When she remained silent, he gently tilted her chin up. Her expression startled him—eyes moist, lips curled in pain. He longed to pull her close, to comfort her.

“You can't kill him, Selenia. We need him to feed information to Cressida.”

Her face fell. “Was no one going to tell me this?”

Sion chuckled softly. “In all fairness, I don't think anyone anticipated you coming down here to murder him.”

She flinched at the word 'murder.' Sion wondered if she could have gone through with it had she breached the door. The Selenia he knew as a child wouldn't have, but this grown woman before him, with passion in her heart and fire in her eyes, seemed capable of anything.

“I don't know what came over me,” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

Sion's resolve melted. “Hush, my darling. Come here.” He opened his arms, and she fell into them, sobbing against his chest. He fought to control his body's response to her nearness, trying to resist the woman he now suspected he was destined for.

“Oh Sion, I don't know what I'm doing. I never wanted you to find out we are fated. I'm so confused, but I also couldn't bear to have you sent away. I'm so sorry.”

“Shhhhhh...dry your eyes, Selenia. You did nothing wrong. I'm just sorry that I don't feel the certainty you do. But I won't lie—I do desire you.”

She looked up at him, heat flushing her cheeks and neck. “Really?”

Sion swallowed hard. “Selenia, I'd have to be struck dumb not to want a woman like you.”

She trembled in his arms, and he could no longer resist. He didn't want her to feel rejected; no part of him could ever reject her. He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her gently yet thoroughly. Her warmth, her eagerness, her sweetness overwhelmed him. May the Fates strike him down, he thought, but he was becoming seriously addicted to Selenia Snowden.

The moment they crossed into the desert, Sion's eyes were drawn to Selenia. She was dressed more appropriately this time, wearing a thin silk top with delicate straps and a light skirt that fell to her knees. He tried to avert his gaze from her exposed legs. Her pale skin took on a shimmering quality under the harsh desert light.

How could he be bound to her without knowing it? What had that creature—a Murcurial?—done to her? And more importantly, could she do the same for him? If he survived this war, he vowed to seek out the creature and pay whatever price necessary to free his side of the bond so he could be with her fully.

“Are you okay?” Grayden hung back, studying Sion carefully.

“Honestly, I don't know.”

“I know I said some things back at the lodge—”