Page 118 of A Pact of Blood

How much more will I have to survive before I can reclaim my life as my own?

Neven’s head slumps, distracting me from my own misery. The comments he made about wanting to do something, to make a difference, come back to me.

He’s felt shut out from his foster brothers’ plans. Maybe they’ve protected him more than is truly safe.

I speak up again, equally quiet. “Neven’s seen a lot now. I’m not sure it does us any good to keep secrets from him.”

As the prince of Goric shifts straighter, Raul glances from me to him with a grimace. But he takes my suggestion to heart.

“We’re working on making the situation better,” he says in a firm undertone. “Stay away from Marclinus when you can—nothing to provoke him. Lorenzo and I have been nudging as many people as we can in Aurelia’s favor.”

Bastien nods. “I’ve been looking into the confirmation rites so she can be as prepared as possible.” He meets my eyes. “It’s no surprise, but I’ve been able to determine that the Sabrellian confirmation rite will definitely involve some kind of physical combat. Raul should give you more lessons. I’ll see if I can find any more details.”

Neven’s face brightens. “I’ll help with the lessons again. Any way that’ll be useful.”

Raul chuckles softly. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do. And believe me, when everything’s in place…” He tips his head toward my unconscious husband and jerks a finger across his throat.

Neven’s lips part in shock, but then the corners lift with a trace of a smile.

Lorenzo squeezes my hand as if to confirm he’s here withme just as much. He lifts his other hand in the air to form a few gestures.Not like this forever.

An ache swells inside my chest, but it’s bittersweet rather than fully painful now.

I’m not alone. We’ve made our own kind of family, stronger than the bonds of blood or marriage.

I will get through this as I have so much else, with these men who match my determination around me.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Aurelia

The hawk plummets out of the sky toward me, its talons poised. All I can see is its golden wings and the expanse of the blazingly blue sky around it.

Every instinct clamors for me to yank up my arms to shield myself, to brace to shove the creature away. But even as my stance tenses, a flood of cool calm washes over me.

No. I need to welcome whatever will come. I need to show I’ll accept and embrace the threat, and nothing can truly harm me.

I lift my arms but hold them open wide. The hawk slams into me, raking its talons across my cheek and shoulder.

Pain lances through my flesh, but I remain steady in my pose.

The hawk thrashes this way and that, jabbing me with its beak. Slicing into me with its talons. Battering me with its wings.

I take in every sting and ache and stroke my fingers across its smacking feathers. Hum a soothing tune. Wait for it to see I’m not its opponent.

All at once, the bird spasms. A white form pushes through the golden feathers into my embrace.

The dove shoves the remains of the hawk’s body away and nestles against my chest. A glowing light emanates from it, coursing over me and sealing all my wounds.

I made it through, and this is my reward.

I tuck my arms gently around the feathered form and?—

My eyes pop open to stare at the dawn-lit ceiling of my waystation bedroom.

The dream falls away. A shudder runs through me at the memory of the hawk’s vicious talons.

I touch my face with the irrational need to confirm my flesh is still whole.

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