Page 36 of Mountains of Mist and Magic

Doria. Sion's face burned as he remembered his clothing that had been left behind on the floor, in plain sight. Of course, the household staff would have enjoyed that piece of gossip.

“I promise you, Grayden. I haven't compromised her—she's still a maid—”

Grayden waved his hand. “I don't want to hear about it, and what happens between the two of you is private. Just please be careful until you're wed. I don't want the servants in my office bothering me about these things—especially when my little sister is involved.” His stern face easily returned to one of levity. “Well, come on then.” Grayden stood up and moved to the door.

“Where are we going?” Sion asked, following Grayden out the hall and down a stairway towards Almory's workshop.

“If you're going to marry my sister, you need a ring.” Grayden unlocked the door opposite Almory's rooms and stepped inside. Sion followed.

It was a small room but filled to the ceiling with all kinds of artifacts, heirlooms, and memorabilia. Sion instantly recognized the crown belonging to Grayden's father, sitting on a velvet cushion in a glass case. He realized now that he had never once seen Grayden wear it.

Every corner of the room was stuffed with antique weaponry, gold bars, and paintings so old that they were nearly dust.

Grayden went to a small dark wood cabinet and opened it. He pulled out a few tiny boxes, and then passed them to Sion.

“I gave my mother's wedding ring to Renya, and I won't apologize for it. My mother left it for me specifically, and I think deep down she knew it would be important to Renya. Selenia has most of our mother's jewelry already, but there are a few pieces I kept as part of Selenia's dowry. She was young when our parents died, as you recall, so there's a good chance she doesn't remember some of these pieces.”

Sion opened up one of the little cases. Inside the gray velvet box was a dainty yellow gold band with a large emerald in the center. It was very pretty, but it didn't scream Selenia to him.

“Not the one, huh?” Grayden punched him playfully in the ribs, reading his lack of enthusiasm correctly.

The next ring was one made of sapphires, but it too didn't meet the mark.

Sion opened the last box and instantly knew it was the perfect ring. Inside was a heart-shaped dark ruby, nearly the same shade as Selenia's hair. The band was encrusted with aragonite, and he couldn't help but remember legends about some kind of magical power infused within the stone.

It was the perfect ring.

Grayden smiled. “I would have picked that one too.”

Chapter Eighteen

Triston woke up with a jolt, his heart racing and sweat dripping down his back. He quickly rubbed his eyes, looking around the dark room. A dream. It was just a dream. Images circled in his head, terrible scenes in which his parents were drowning, the ocean and its cruel waves dragging them down.

He breathed deeply, then looked around the room, trying to get his bearings.

Julietta was asleep in the bed next to him, and he must have fallen asleep in the chair. Triston chided himself for drifting off; he was supposed to be keeping Julietta safe, making sure that she didn't sleep too long and was coherent. The healer had expressly charged him with the duty, and he took it very seriously.

Triston glanced outside, but it was still dark. At least he hadn't slept too long. His back ached from riding all day and had stiffened up from sleeping in the chair, so he walked around the room a bit, trying to ease his sore muscles. There was a bathtub in the little bathroom, but he felt uncomfortable undressing while Julietta was in the next room.

Which was ridiculous, considering they were fated mates. If he hadn't tried to reject the bond, and she hadn't either, they would—what? Be in bed together now?

He felt a stirring as he thought about how pretty Julietta looked before Sunny threw her. She had been enjoying herself, laughing as her horse's hooves pounded against the compacted dirt and coarse sand of the plains. But there had been some kind of hole dug into the earth, most likely from a jackster weasel, and Sunny had lost her footing and then got spooked. When Julietta had tumbled from the mare's back, Triston had felt a panic like he'd never known well up inside of him. Actually, it was a panic he experienced once before, when he was a small child and lost both of his parents. In that moment, a gust of fear shook him to his very core, and he knew he needed to sever his bond with Julietta. Triston never wanted to feel that overwhelming fear of loss again. He would never love, never have a wife or children. The more people he cared about, the greater risk it posed to him.

It was better this way.

Besides, he was sure he'd make a terrible husband and mate. It wasn't his faithfulness—he wasn't one to whore around and enjoy women. He only sought the relief he needed and moved on—but he couldn't imagine trying to balance caring for another person and ruling his kingdom. He wasn't sure how Grayden did it. Grayden too had experienced great loss—but he didn't really witness it first-hand like Triston had. Plus, Grayden had been quite a bit older when he'd lost his parents.

Triston heard a quiet moan, and his eyes instantly landed on Julietta. Moving beside her, he watched as she tossed her head a bit in her sleep. She mumbled something he couldn't quite make out, and then she whimpered. The sound of her crying went straight to his heart, and he had the strangest urge to pick her up and place her on his lap, rocking her until she was settled and content. He resisted the temptation, but then she began thrashing slightly in her sleep.

“Julietta,” he whispered, touching her cheek gently. Her skin was soft under his palm, but he pushed the minute detail down into a locked compartment of his mind.

Julietta continued to thrash about, obviously terrified by something in her dreams. She didn't rouse though, so he became a bit more panicky.

“Come on, Julietta. Wake up.”

She almost seemed stuck in her nightmare, unable to get out of it. When she finally opened her eyes, she looked right past him, unseeing and terrified. Then Julietta began to cry in earnest: large, wet tears splashed down her face and neck and pooled above her chest.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Triston pleaded, trying to get her to sit up. The endearment flew out of his mouth without him realizing it, but he didn't have time to analyze. “It's time to wake up.”

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