Page 56 of Threadbound

Bran wasn’t sure if he felt more sorry for his own burden now, or for Jamie’s.

“And we alsochosewhat to be to each other,” Maigdeann pointed out, ever practically. “We chose to love each other. Chose to build a family. We dinna have to do that because of the bond.”

Bran didn’t point out that most threadbound did become lovers at one point or another. And while it was true not all did, and that not all who did stayed lovers, it seemed that the assumption among the twinned Courts was that a Threadbond was as good as a handfasting.

It bothered Bran that he was no longer sure that upset him as much as it used to. But he also knew that Jamie was unlikely to see things the same way. For Jamie, a threadbond would tear him out of his world, his reality—even moreso than Bran’s existence already had—and that wasn’t something that Bran could ever repair. Even if they completed the bond and parted ways, it would be impossible for Jamie to go fully back to the world he knew.

Having seen Bran shift forms had likely upset Jamie’s understanding of the world, and Bran was certain that—bond or no—Jamie would not be happy to see him ever again.

The full mooncame and went, and Bran stopped having to drink the bitter antidote. He felt stronger, able to walk the halls of the Court of Shades, to follow the paths under the shadowed branches of the Nimh Coille, to walk with Maigdeann to the rocky shore to play with his niece and nephew.

He didn’t feel normal.

There was a lingering weakness, a slight breathlessness he couldn’t shake, a subtle ache in his chest and a heaviness to his limbs that would not go away. And, if his father’s expression was any indication, might never go away.

Bran sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the dark skin of his hands.

“It would be better if you completed the bond,” his father’s gruff but gentle voice told him softly.

“Aye, I know.” That didn’t mean he was going to do it.

Cairn sighed, the sound like the rasping of stone and earth as the heavy lid of a sepulcher slid closed. “There is nothing more I can do to help you, Bran. The poison is gone from your blood.” A heavy hand settled on Bran’s shoulder, the rough skin of his father’s fingers solid and soothing. “Whether you heal more now is up to Fate and your own choices.”

Bran knew what that meant. Whether or not he was willing to complete the threadbond. But he didn’t know how to explain his reticence to Cairn. It had been one thing when he’d not wanted to tie himself to an oafish half-breed, but now that he knew Jamie wasn’t that… Now it was the fact that he’d be taking Jamie away from his life—the things he cared about. The people he cared about.

People who weren’t Bran.

Jealousy was an unpleasant emotion that Bran was definitely not used to.

Cairn’s black eyes studied his son’s face. “It will not go away, Bran. It will either remain the same, or it will become worse.”

“I know.” But knowing that he was facing his own slow—or maybe not so slow—deterioration didn’t make it any easier to take Jamie’s life from him. Or at least change it irrevocably.

Cairn’s dark eyes knew more than they should have been able to. “When did you start to become fond of this half-breed?” he asked.

Bran sighed. Cairn always knew too much. “I dinna know,” he muttered, feeling the gap in age between his father and himself particularly acutely.

“But you are fond of him.” It both was and wasn’t a question.

“Aye,” Bran admitted.

“And yet you still hesitate?” Cairn asked, then.

It seemed that Bran wasn’t being given a choice about explaining his reluctance. “Jamie doesna belong here,” he answered softly. “He has his own life. His own people.”

“Does he know what you are?”

“Aye.” Bran half swallowed the word. “Not all, but enough.”

“And he refuses?”

Bran felt his cheeks heating.

“He knows what you are, but he does not know of the threadbond,” Cairn guessed.

“Aye.” That made Bran feel guilty for some reason he didn’t fully understand.

“Why do you not wish to tell him?” his father wanted to know.

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