Page 89 of Threadbound

“You’re joining the family of the prince of the Sluagh court.”

Jamie shifted. “Sounds like a wedding.” He hadn’t known he wasmarryingBran. That made him twice as nervous. Maybe more than twice. More like ten times as nervous.

“A wedding…? Oh! You mean a handfasting!”

Jamie knew the term. “Yeah, basically.”

“I suppose it’s similar,” Eadar replied. “Joining families and individuals, but there’s no expectation of love, necessarily. Although some threadbindingsarehandfastings.” So sex was expected, but love wasn’t, necessarily. Jamie didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse—it definitely made him feel… weird. Oblivious to Jamie’s discomfort, Eadar smiled in a way Jamie expected was supposed to be reassuring. “You would know if this were one of them.”

That made Jamie feel a bit better. Or, at least, a little less panicked, although it also made him feel… Not quite disappointed—because he wasnotprepared to get married, whether to Bran or anyone else—but sort of. Like he’d wantedmore of a choice in what this threadbinding thing was supposed to mean.

But he hadn’t really had a chance to talk to Bran about it at all, especially with his sickness. It wasn’t that Jamie wasn’t interested in the possibility of a relationship with Bran that was more than just sharing meals and having Bran sleep on his floor, but they hadn’t ever talked about it. And now they were being inextricably tied to one another, which made Jamie feel…

He shook his head to derail that line of thinking.

They’d figure out where they stood onthatfront later.

After they got through this threadbinding thing.

Bran saton the edge of his bed, dressed, but exhausted. He had meditated and slept most of the last three days, and felt like it hadn’t really helped at all.

He should have…

No. He shouldn’t have done it sooner. Because that would have meant that he’d have to have abducted Jamie and brought him here against his will. Instead of—weirdly—more or less the other way around.

He didn’t know what to think about having been brought back to Elfhame, to his father’s house, to perform the threadbinding ritual. He… needed it. His magic needed it. It was Jamie’s choice, but…

Had Jamie chosen this out of pity? Because he felt an obligation to help Bran? Or was this something he actually wanted?

Bran was having a hard time imagining that Jamie could possibly have wanted to upend his life like this, not at all knowing what it was he was walking into. Where he was going or the nature of the world in which he now found himself.

Guilt churned in Bran’s stomach, adding to the weakness and nausea he already felt.

“All right?” Maigdeann asked gently, stepping into his room.

He looked up at his sister, the thick, pale waves of her hair tumbling down her shoulders, their seafoam tone exposed by the gathered straps of the iridescent sheer fabric that made up her dress. Her turquoise-blue eyes studied him critically. “I’m okay,” he answered.

He wasn’t okay. But while he was bone-tired, achy, and nauseous, he at least didn’t feel dizzy or faint, which was an improvement.

He was also wracked with guilt over the fact that Jamie was clearly doing this to save him. Again.

I can’t believe I thought of him as a useless oaf. Bran’s fingers tightened on the bedding. Jamie was so far from either useless or an oaf—he was clever, kind, intelligent, generous…

Bran sighed heavily.

It was commonplace for bondmates to also be lovers, but Bran was under no delusion that they would be among them. Jamie had never evenseenBran in his true form. As a raven, yes. As a human, yes.

But to ask Jamie to accept him as he was now… Jamie was a tolerant man, but Bran didn’t think even Jamie would be interested in him likethis. Even if Jamie did have an interest in deepening their relationship, Bran recognized that it was likely only to be if he assumed his human form.

Which, right now, he didn’t have the strength to do.

Maybe when the bond was complete…?

He could hope.

Because even though with the threadbond complete they could live in different worlds, Bran didn’t want to. And he certainly couldn’t live in Dunehame like this.

Maigdeann was still watching him, and Bran suppressed a wince. His older sister could always read him like no one else.

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