Page 83 of The Sword & the Stone

I cupped Arthur's face in my hands, marveling at the golden light still swirling in her eyes. The mating bond hummed between us, a living connection that pulsed. I detected a hint of fear beneath it all.

"What we've done," I said softly, "is create an unbreakable bond. A fae mating bond is...it's beyond anything in the mortal realm. It's a joining of souls."

As I spoke, I became aware of subtle changes in my perception. The world around us seemed sharper, more vivid. The moss glowed with colors I'd never seen before, and I picked out the whisper of wind through leaves miles away.

"Among the fae," I continued, "mating isn’t taken lightly. It's a choice made by our souls, often without conscious thought. When two fae are truly compatible, when their essences resonate in perfect harmony, the urge to mate becomes overwhelming."

Arthur's fingers traced the mark she'd left on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Through our bond, I felt her fascination mingled with a touch of awe.

"But how does it work?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel different. Like the world has shifted somehow."

I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "The mating bond enhances our natural abilities. It's a merging of life forces. From this moment on, a part of me will always be with you, and a part of you with me. You will balance me and I’ll make you stronger.”

Arthur's brow furrowed as she processed this information. Her expression became uneasy as she sat up. "Tristan. What does this mean for the others?"

I sat up too, grabbing her discarded tunic and draped it over her head to quell the chill. "There have been instances where someone has taken multiple mates. It's rare, but not unheard of."

Arthur's eyes widened, a flicker of hope sparking through our newfound bond. I experienced her emotions as if they were my own: a swirling mix of confusion, desire, and a deep-seated longing for a family. A unit.

“And what about you? It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to share me, would it?” Then she shook her head with a heavy sigh. “What am I even saying? They’re going back to Avalon when I take the throne anyway. It won’t matter in the end if they don’t want me back.”

I brushed a stray curl from Arthur's face. Sadness poured from her, but it mixed with overwhelming satisfaction. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, as if her emotions were underneath my own.

"This bond doesn't change how the others feel about you. If anything, it might make those feelings even stronger." She looked up, her eyes rimmed in silver. “They’re my brothers. I know their hearts better than I know my own sometimes. Give them time to figure out what they really want. Avalon has been the goal for seven hundred years, and that’s not an easy dream to break. But don’t write them off just yet.”

Chapter Thirty

ARTHUR

"We should head back to camp,"Tristan said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "The others will be worried."

I grumbled, my brief good mood suddenly draining away. The thought of facing the others after my outburst earlier made my stomach churn. Not that I had anything to feel guilty about. They’d hurt me in a way I didn’t know I could be hurt. But still, what had I expected? For them to pledge their eternal love to me?

I huffed a laugh.What a stupid, stupid girl.

"Alright," I sighed, reluctantly untangling myself from my sitting position, even though I was rather comfortable.

I stood, stretching my stiff muscles, and began to gather my scattered clothing. Tristan watched me with a tender expression, and I couldn’t hide the blush that crept over me. The mark I'd left on his neck stood out starkly against his dark skin, appearing slightly silver, and already healed over. The others were going to see it immediately.

Good. Let them see.

I had nothing to be ashamed of. Tristan claimed me, then I claimed him, and not a single part of me regretted it. I could already feel Tristan inside of me, like a whisper at the back of my mind.

When I was dressed, Tristan stood with me and stretched his arms out, beckoning me towards him. I went without question, folding myself against his muscled chest. There was a buzzing of magic, then his wings unfurled from his back, looking so much like ghostly dragon wings.

“Hold on tight, little faerie,” he said as his arms tightened around me. We lifted from the mossy bed in the tree, and my stomach flipped. He carried me all the way back down to the forest floor and gently set us down.

Untangling myself from his arms, I peered up at him. “When this is all over, I’m going to need you to teach me how to conjure my own wings.”

He smiled. “I can’t wait to see what they look like.”

I suppose I never thought about that. What would they look like? Butterfly wings? Dragonfly? A bird or a bat? Faeries came in so many magical shapes and sizes that it could be anything.

As we neared the camp, I could make out the soft blue glow of Merlin's magical fire. The flames danced and swirled without producing smoke, casting flickering shadows across the sleeping forms of my knights.

Gawain sat with his back against a gnarled tree trunk, his steel-gray eyes alert as he kept watch. As we stepped into the clearing, his gaze immediately locked onto us. I saw the exact moment he noticed the mate marks on our necks. His whole body went rigid as his eyes widened in shock before quickly looking away.

Tristan squeezed my hand gently before releasing it. "Get some rest," he murmured. "I'll take watch with Gawain."

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