Page 5 of Threadbound

He was entirely convinced that it was a much better choice tonotbind himself to the half-breed, come what may.

His father saw things differently.

Cairn mac Darach, Sluagh prince, nephew to the King of the Sluagh and eighth son of the King of the Sidhe, thought his youngest child was being stubborn and unreasonable, and had told him so. Repeatedly. He’d also reminded Bran that the longer he went after his twenty-fifth birthday without completing the threadbond, the more erratic and weak his power would become.

Bran had put it off, not really believing that his magic could truly be tied, or at least not that strongly, to some half-breed in some far-away place in Dunehame.

And then things had started to go… not wrong, exactly. Just not right, either.

A missed step when sparring with his siblings. Easily dismissed as the result of not enough sleep or the distracting glint of light off metal or glass.

His fingers fumbling when he tried to tie a charm or untie a curse.

A little extra fatigue after a shift from one form to another.

Things he hadn’t even noticed until one day he did. And once he noticed them, he couldn’t ignore them anymore. His power was weakening, flickering. And he didn’t like it one bit.

The only solution—as far as he’d been able to find—was to complete the threadbond. To cement the link between himself and the half-breed so that it was more than just a single, quivering golden thread.

If he could have snapped it instead, he’d have taken that option. But, no. To sever the thread between bondmates was to drive them both to madness and possibly death.

He’d looked it up.

He’d looked a lot of things up.

Legends, histories, charms, forbidden spells. He’d even gone so far as to seek out theBean Nighe.

TheBean Nighehad laughed at him.

And then given him answers he didn’t particularly like at all.

Her body,twisted like a tree struggling to grow around a massive stone, settled into a crouch before the green flames of the fire, her massive feet clawed and webbed where they clutched the dirt.

“Speak, child of stone and air.”

“I seek to rid myself of the threadbond,Bean Nighe,” he told her, carefully and deliberately holding his voice steady.

“Then you seek madness and an early grave, child. I will not grant such a wish.” She bared teeth the color of cloudy amber and spring moss at him. “Such wishes are more easily accomplished with a quick blade or a liberal dose of hemlock, should that be your chosen path.”

Bran might hate the bond, but he wasn’t suicidal. “No, and your honesty does me honor,Bean Nighe.”

“But you have used one wish,” she cautioned him.

Of course he had. That was the way of things.

“And I must have the answer to my first question,” she pronounced.

“Very well. Ask.”

“Why do you wish to shed the threads of Fate?”

He blinked, startled. He hadn’t expected such a…normalquestion. “My bondmate is a human half-breed. I have no desire to be bound to such a creature.”

TheBean Nighestared at him, blinking her white eyes. If she had thoughts or judgment about his answer, she gave no indication.

“Your second wish.”

“If I canna be rid of the bond, then I wish to stabilize my magic without it.”

---