He doesn’t flinch. “Yes, there is that, but there’s also the pesky bond you share with your dear, sweet Isiah.”
A bitter taste fills my mouth as waves of nausea roll through me, but by some miracle, my voice remains neutral. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
His face scrunches briefly before relaxing once more. “Enough, Grace. You see many things when you’ve lived as long as I have. Although many believe it is fabled lore because of its rarity, what is between the two of you is not unheard of amongst the eldest of the fae. When you were not in your mind at the border, I suspected you two might be mates. I have only seen it once before, between Gabriel and Alessandra Anaeris.”
Mates? Could that be what this is, the bond we share?
“Fine, we share a bond. What of it?” I snap, not wanting to discuss this with him.
He gives me a small cheerless smile, and it frightens me. “The bond that binds you to each other… this ritual mayalterit.”
“What?” I can’t imagine how it could. It feels like it’s always been there, like another piece of me.
“The ending of your life severs the ties you hold here. You cannot be reborn without being undone. I do not tell you this because I care anything for Isiah. I am telling you so you can make the choice.”
Pushing off the wall, I scoff. “As if you care. The only thing you care about is opening Anaeris and invading Esmarae. And what choice do I have, anyway? Why are you even telling me this?”
He stands from the couch and strides toward me. “Although I detest him and would like nothing more than the bond to be broken, I would prefer it done willingly by you, so when you are reborn from the ashes, I may have you for my own.”
My laugh comes out short and clipped. “As if I would ever choose you.” I emphasize each of the last three words.
A tiny twitch in his lips tells me I hit the mark. And for a split second, I regret my words. Then again, he’s the one who put us in this situation. He had my heart once, however brief a time, and lost it.
“So my choices are break our bargain and lose my life, or complete the ritual and potentially break my bond with Isiah?”
“The forfeit of your life is not in the sense you believe. I do not wish you dead, Grace. We did not make our bargain on those terms.”
My brows knit together. “Bargains are completed, or you die. That was my understanding. How is ours different?”
He looks away from me then, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Ours was made in the fine print. The tattoo on your arm is not a death sentence. It says to break our bargain is the death of yourfreelife—a forfeit of your free will. I am no fool. As I said before, I trusted the words of your ancestors and regretted that decision. So I made sure ours would hold.”
My life doesn’t end if I don’t perform the ritual, but my free will does.
Stalking toward him, I stab a finger into his chest. “I won’t be in thrall to you. I’d rather die than become that.”
His eyes soften at my words. “Nor do I want that, my dear. The bargain we struck was only to ensure it was fulfilled this time.”
“You’re abastard.”
He smirks. “You have told me that before, and I wholeheartedly agree. But knowing the truth of our bargain does not change the outcome of today, does it? You’ve always meant to follow through with it, even without knowing your death was off the table.”
I’m cornered, and there’s no way this ends well. If I don’t willingly perform the ritual, Niethal will call in the bargain, which will be the end of my life anyway. The end of my free will is terrible for me but worse for Isiah. There is no way he won’t lose his mind trying to free me and kill Niethal, and with Isiah outnumbered, he would probably die.
If I willingly break the border and blood magic, there’s the possibility I damage the bond we share, perhaps irreparably. This must be what Atarric meant, saving that which I hold most dear. If only I could remember thedamnword he showed me.
A single tear rolls down my cheek, thinking of what I may lose. I shut my eyes and rub my hands together, and a slight chill spreads upwards from my fingers. It travels up my arm, through my shoulder, and follows my neck into the base of my skull.
My eyes shoot open.
A single word echoes through my mind—Anamcar.
It repeats over and over, as clear as the day I first saw the word on the page, though it didn’t have a sound.
Wiping my cheek, I find Niethal staring at me with what I assume is his version of sympathy.
I need to believe Atarric is right, that this will protect the bond, because I won’t allow myself to be in thrall and have Isiah die trying to free me.
With the little courage I have left, I choose my fate. “Let’s get this over with.”