Page 53 of Fate

She sat back against her chair and did not dare give Lucian a look.

There. She’d said what she could, and her voice hadn’t wavered, and she’d even managed the hint of a smile as she’d done it.

The bond was quiet, but she could well imagine the waves of irritation he was keeping from her, if only she reached out the smallest measure.

Or simply glanced at him.

But she didn’t.

She chose a few items from the feast in front of her, and put them on her plate because it was polite, although she had little intention of eating any of it.

“You wish toplease,”Oberon answered, leaning forward and giving her such a look that if he’d possessed such power, there would have been no need of poisons at all. “You wish us to be merciful to Lucian, yes?”

She met his eye because to cower would likely make him strike harder. “Yes,” she agreed. “I do not wish him to hurt. Not because of me.” Or for any other reason, although she thought that did not require saying.

Oberon’s eyes glittered.

“Then sever the bond.”

She blinked once, even as one uncle stood and crossed over to Oberon, his hand coming to his shoulder as he squeezed hard. “You are intoxicated. You will be silent.”

“Why?” Oberon turned, shrugging off the hold upon him. “She offered. Did you not hear her? Looking so pale and pitiful.” He straightened his robes. “It is pathetic.”

Firen did look to Lucian then. Because severing was impossible. Everyone knew that. So asking it was simply another barb to throw. To see it land and watch her eyes flicker with the hurt of something she could not do, even if she wished it.

And yet his eyes grew dark as he looked not at her, but at his father. “That is a discussion to be had in private,” Lucian bit out from a tight jaw and tense shoulders.

“It might have been,” Oberon agreed as he took his seat once more. “But your mother insisted upon bringing in the family. So here we are. And since that girl beside you has so graciously volunteered to do what is necessary to please us, I think we have settled on our solution.”

Firen swallowed, feeling suddenly very, very cold. “Lucian, what is he talking about?”

Because this did not feel abstract. It felt like a certainty. As if they had some knowledge that she did not, of something so terrible and wretched that yes, it should be locked away in a fortress of books and stone so that no one would ever have to endure it.

Her voice was soft, because she did not care to hear the answer from anyone else. He was her mate, and she was not just some girl he’d plucked off the street. That he’d taken into his bed and held her until she slept. Loved with her. Perhaps even made a fledgling together, although she suspected that the wanting there was solely one sided.

So she would be denied even that.

“Lucian,” she repeated, and she closed her eyes and tugged as hard as she could on a bond that felt like wisps within her mind, that was fluttering and pulsing but not as strong a tether as she had always imagined it might be. “Answer me, please.”

He did turn, then. Eyes full of fire, and she had to work hard not to flinch. “It doesn’t concern you.”

She nearly laughed. A breathless, hysterical bubble of anything but humour. “It sounds like it does.”

“You were quite right, Ellena. I do feel much better.” Oberon smirked at them from over his goblet, and Firen was ready to retreat. Just when she’d made up her mind to do so, Lucian’shand reached out and grasped hold of her arm. Not hard. Certainly not enough to hurt, but a restraint all the same.

“It is not safe,” Lucian remarked, keeping hold of her but allowing his attention to drift back to his father. “You know this.”

Oberon frowned ever so slightly. “That is your priority? When I am providing a solution to this problem? You should thank me. Should have come to me and told me it was necessary. Not brought that girl into my home, pretending as if she would have a place here.”

Firen stood. Lucian could tug all he liked, but she was going to be sick if she stayed there a moment longer. “I am a woman grown,” she informed the room. Not that any of them cared. “Not a girl. And this talk is as close to blasphemy as ever I’ve heard.”

Bonds were sacred. Perhaps some couples had dared to admit they did not care for their partner, that they wished for another, but she did not know of it. “Please, excuse me.”

“Firen,” Lucian called, and he could continue doing so for all she cared.

She did not run. Her steps were unhurried and her head unbowed. The Maker had brought them together, and to talk of dissolving it, toseverit...

It was an amputation. An abomination.

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