Page 43

43

CARELESS TONGUES

Darina

R ain only remains for one more day, before I convince Valdred to take her back to Earth. In that day, she insults ten folk, and almost thanks three. We’re all exhausted by the time he’s gone.

Things otherwise settle in something akin to a routine, as strange as it seems at first. Rachel starts to take lessons from Caenan, who teaches her all manner of fae custom. Some, she shares with me in the evenings.

My training with Caenan remains purely physical. That man loves making his queen sweat, and run, and fall on her regal ass. I do get better, but he holds back less, so it doesn’t feel like improvement.

As Loch told me it would, the castle is considerably quieter when I make my way to the hall where I hold court.

I'm getting used to this. Each day brings more visitors, who cleared their welcome with Loch. They're introduced to me, and I make a point of remembering names and ranks, keeping a journal with my first impression of each.

Most of the petitioners coming to me this evening want to ask for a place at court, and I accept all vows, ready to fill my empty halls.

Relva's helpful enough to organize their housing, showing the various courtiers to their quarters; the most trustworthy are closer to me, though no one but our little circle is on my floor.

There are no true seasons in the Hollow; it's summer by day, winter by night, with spring and autumn following their due course. It's hard to tell how many days pass, each feeling so constant. But I know that every morning, I wake with a growing sense of foreboding.

Things are calming down. There's a schedule of sorts. I sleep, and wake alone each twilight, my bed feeling oh so empty. Ryther makes a point of appearing in my hall to show his support most days, especially when an important unseelie shows up. On other days, it's Valdred by my side, returning from his tumultuous affairs in bones, where he's battling his father's supporters. I have to flirt, but at least there's no more suggestion of my having to fuck him to make a point. The very thought is all the more sickening now that Ryther's avoiding me.

But I'm stressing out every single day, expecting it to be the day he'll tell me he's leaving. I can't bear the thought of him being completely gone.

Each night, I don my human disguise and sneak out to the meadow, where I can finally breathe. I'm fairly certain my guards are aware, but the other courtiers don't pay me any mind when I'm no longer in my crown and vast selection of imposing dresses.

Ryther doesn't join me again, until one night, what could have been a week or a month after that day when he announced his intention to leave.

I know. Seeing him walk to me, I know what he'll say. He's going.

I don't make myself will it, but a glance at my own hair makes me realize it's switched back to blue. I'm glad; I'll remain formal and remote and not say a single word if I can help it. The last thing I need is to break down like a freaking clingy teen dumped by her boyfriend.

I usually do the dumping.

I suddenly feel quite guilty about the long list of men I've discarded without so much as a second thought, particularly those who begged for another chance. Did they feel like this? It's awful.

"Ryther," I say, glad my voice is neutral, if not as cheery as intended. "Found me, have you?"

"I seldom lose you." He smiles pleasantly, surprising me by offering me an old, small book.

I page through it, frowning. "I can read the marks, I think, but it's all so very…complicated."

"Quite," he says. "But don't worry, you won't need to read it all. Chapter seven, third page; there's note of a ritual. It's mentioned in a fair few other volumes, but never in detail. Here, it tells us all ingredients, the incantation, and the time of the year—the winter solstice, so around midnight in the Hollow."

"What ritual?" I ask, a little lost.

"Bond severing."

My heart sinks.

"To tell you the truth, I didn't truly believe it feasible. I've heard of mates rejecting their partners before completing a bond, but never of anyone breaking it after. But I kept looking; it seems possible, if rare. You can be free of me," he tells me, with a charming smile.

I want to punch something. No, I want to punch him . And scream. And cry.

"So, this is how you've spent your time these past days?" I make myself say.

He nods eagerly. "Indeed. Since the day you said you wished to swap me out. Now you can."

"I nev—" I try to speak, but the words are locked in my throat.

It's a first for me. I've never actually attempted to say something, intending to enunciate all the words, and been blocked by…something.

"I," I repeat. My mind races, trying to find a way to say I absolutely did not ask for a swap of mate, and when I genuinely can't, I'm stunned into silence. "I said that?"

"You did." I can't read him. The only thing I know is that the casual tone is a front. He's purposely made all his expressions neutral; he only does that to hide.

"That's awful."

A short chuckle escapes him. "It was, yes. But you were forced into this. I bound you to me when you were dead," he reminds me. His chin tilts to the book in my hand. "This is your way out."

I look down at the unassuming volume.

"It's close to midnight. We could perform it today."

"Stop," I demand. "Please, stop talking."

I'm doing my best to prevent myself from throwing the book as far as I can, into the lake no one else can touch, or burning it, forever erasing the terrible spell inside.

But while this book is my enemy, it might serve someone else. Who am I to completely remove the possibility of an escape for someone who actually needs it?

I make myself swallow, and turn back to Ryther. "If you need this—" My hands are shaking. I tuck them behind my back, clutching the damn book. "If you want to break the bond," I try again.

Except I can't say it. It's the logical, fair thing to say. If he doesn't want to be attached to me for the rest of time, we should absolutely break the only thing that has felt like safety, and home, since I was taken from my world.

I don't notice the tears falling down my cheeks until his thumb brushes them aside.

"This was for you, my little queen. Part of you, however small, however conscious, asked for a choice in your fate. Options. That's what I'll give you. What you need."

I only cry harder. "Don't leave me. Please. I'll do anything." I'm fucking pathetic, and I cannot care. "This is the last thing I want or need. This is poison."

I do throw the damn book, though not in the direction of the lake. I wish I could.

Feeling like I'm throwing a temper tantrum like a child, I struggle to put words into my desperate plea. "I know we're dangerous together, but this world is awful, and scary, and completely crazy, and the only thing keeping me together is knowing that you're on my side. Please . If you need to be in the wild, can't I come with you?"

"Darina," Ryther says, tugging one of my hands first, then when I'm close, tilting my chin so I stop evading his gaze. "The spell was for you. I was fully conscious when I clutched your soul with mine and held it with all my will. I chose you. I told the sky, and stars, and fate, the gods from all corner of the world, that I wanted us to spend eternity together. I meant it. The only thing that could keep me from you is you."

It occurs to me that I'm a bit of an idiot. "I said I'd swap you? That makes no sense."

"It was a joke, I think. I did not laugh."

I shake my head in disbelief. "And you've been looking for this since?"

He shrugs. "I don't think I would have survived distance without breaking our bond first."

I feel his heart right against mine, beating just as fast as my own.

It's startling. I would have thought his would beat in a constant, controlled rhythm, without any variation. He feels so steady, and strong, and unbreakable. But for all this, his heart's racing. My hand presses against it, and I press my lips against his collarbone.

Ryther groans. "We're not supervised," he reminds me.

I remember the panic and fear when I woke to his hands around my throat, dark magic pulsing.

"I don't care."

I bring my lips to his.It's hardly the first time I've kissed him, but this time, I feel it to the tips of my toes, electrifying my entire being. His mouth and hands are slow, tender, rather than his usual demanding, claiming touches, as we slide to the ground. I lie back on the grass, and as he hovers over me, in that very moment, I seem to see a million days, a million lives. All of them with his hand in mine.

There are laughter and tears, nights by the fire, days on the open sea, and in the endless sky. A million kisses, so many screaming orgasms, and an infinity of love. That's what I've agreed to. And all of a sudden, I see the scope of it.

The mark dancing on his neck seems brighter for the blink of an eye, and then, it stops.

For as long as we've both had that mark, it has seemed to slither across our skins, always in sync and at the exact same spot, but constantly moving. I thought it was the norm, that it would never stop flying across our bodies, but it remains right there, on his neck.

One glance shows me mine was immobilized at the exact same place.

A sudden, incomprehensible jolt of pure joy and sunshine and adrenaline pulses through me and I know that if he's not inside me right now, I will die .

Ryther roars, shedding his clothing at record speed as I do my best to remove mine, needing all of him against me.

I don't think we have sex, or make love, or any such words. We rut like animals, bestial, primal need fueling both of us. For hours and hours, beyond dawn, past the midday summer, I lift my hips to meet his, turn and push my ass back, never stopping. I don't know how long we remain joined, together, whole.

“I want to marry you,” I say, when I can finally speak again.

That gets his attention. Ryther rolls back on top of me, smirking. “That good, huh? And we’re mated, little queen.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. And you keep saying, I didn’t have a choice at the time. Well, I want to make it clear I choose you. So, marry me?”

There’s an entire storm in his eyes. “Yes. Now.”

I laugh. “Right now?”

“Immediately.”

I’m not opposed, and according to what Caenan said to me of his union to my sister, I understand we only need to share words for it to happen. Vows.

“I will protect and care for you until my last breath,” Ryther tells me. “Wife.”

I suppose I’ve already given him my word.

Fuck. I want him again.

"There you are!"

Ryther grunts, glaring at the intruder, who has the good sense to remain at a distance.

Loch. He likely doesn't want a better view. "Sorry for the interruption, but it's important. You need to come."

"I was about to," I growl in his direction.

Never mind that I've come at least a dozen times, if not two.

Reluctantly, Ryther kisses my mark on my neck and rolls off me. He hands me his shirt, which is the only piece of clothing still mostly in one piece around us.

It's winter-night, and there's snow all around us, though I don't feel cold at all.

"What?" I demand, once relatively dressed.

Ryther's pulled part of his pants back on.

Loch seems apologetic. "We have a problem. It's his brother."