Page 248 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“I cannot answer that,” Balabas replies.

I purse my lips in annoyance and rephrase my question, “What is so bad about true matings that made them forbidden?”

“Bad is subjective,” the wraith responds. “True matings were not conductive to the purpose of Aperion. They were deemed to be against the interest of the realm.”

I blink. “Why?”

“True mates only care about each other at the expense of anything and anyone else. It stands to reason that if they only care about each other, they will not do their duties to Aperion and the rest of the universe.”

“Does that mean that Moirai only approves matings that have no chance of being true matings?”

“I cannot answer that.”

Yet the answer is evident. Moirai’s process of approval hinges on two important criteria: the potential power of the offspring and the impossibility that the parents would be true mates.

Slowly, it dawns on me that Moirai has been actively working against us. So what if true mates only care about each other? By denying people the chance of finding their one true love, they are denying them true happiness.

I’d long suspected that the rarity of true matings had to do with the political game of advantageous marriages in Aperion, but I never realized it would be so insidious. Retrospectively, it makes sense why in my over four thousand years of life, I’ve only read a handful of accounts of true mating—all references from obscure, unofficial sources.

Despite the fact that true matings are considered taboo and they are not talked about, those accounts stayed with me because they gave me a sliver of hope—that perhaps I, too, would be able to find my one true love at some point in time. But with the House of Moirai working to ensure thatneverhappens, it dawns on me that it’s never been possible in the first place.

All this time, I’ve been holding out some romantic notions about true mates, thinking that although they are rare, they stillhappen. I would look at a couple seemingly in love and hope that, perhaps, they’d found their true love.

By the time I can think of another question to ask Balabas, the wraith stops.

“We have arrived.”

The door to the first level of the tower opens in front of us and Balabas leads me inside. To my surprise, there is nothing of note inside, only a slew of other doors. Balabas chooses one, seemingly at random, and opens it for me. The wraith doesn’t follow me, merely nodding for me to go in.

Once I step through the second door, I find myself in the middle of a corridor. The walls are a stark white, devoid of any decor or artifice.

Not knowing what I’m supposed to do now, I take a tentative step forward.

“Lady Minerva. What brings you here?” Groyo’s voice rings out and he flashes himself in front of me. He’s wearing the same pearlescent gown as before, his face full of runes that have been etched in his face in two rows on each cheek. His eyes are a very odd, light yellow color.

“Lord Groyo.” I clear my throat. “This is a nice room you have here,” I add nervously.

He stares at me, his face devoid of any emotion.

“What brings you here?” he repeats.

“I have come to pay my respects and thank you.”

“Thank me?” he echoes.

“Your interference in my life has helped me see that I was on a wrong path and I have since mended my ways.”

“You are welcome,” he replies tersely. “You may leave now.”

“Eh?” I blink. He’s already turning to leave, so I shout, “Stop.”

He half turns, a question knit between his brows.

“This is for you. My gratitude,” I muster with a tremulous smile as I extend the tray with the pie I baked for him. It’s a recipe I learned in Anthropa, so I have no doubt he will be impressed with it. He’s probably never had anything of the sort before.

He glances down at the tray with curiosity, but he does not take it.

“I do not…require such things.”

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