Elias touches my cheek gently.
I smile at him reassuringly. “Don’t worry,” I say, feeling perfectly calm— but also as if I’m not wholly inhabiting my body. “They’re mine. I’ll find them. I’ll protect them.”
He swallows at whatever he sees in my gaze. “We’d better wake Sully and Bolan.”
“And Christoph,” I say, speaking without thinking through the request ahead of time. Without even thinking of the why behind it. Why does it feel like I’m going to need all of them, even if they aren’t yet mine? “He’s in the city, yes?”
Elias nods. “I’ll text the duke as well. He’s staying at the club, though. They have a no-phone policy throughout the common rooms.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, settling my attention back on my phone.
Elias crossesthrough the great room, heading through the main hall to wake Sully and Bolan, but I linger in that pocket of light over the dining room table, surrounded by the yawning darkness of Armin’s apartments.
No. My apartments now.
Our apartments now?
It’s only been a few days since my conversation with my father, a few days since I walked away from the matchmaking event. Walked away with what I thought was a firm understanding of thewhy. Why I wrote that list of names under the influence of the intersection point. Why I was drawn to the men who were clearly Armin’s soul-bound mates — because my name wasn’t on the list.
After further revelations about the responsibility of holding and stabilizing the intersection point, I’d come to another understanding — a resolution — that I would have to choose the Merton bond group. That they, with their strong generational bond, were my only option. It wouldn’t be a love match, of course. But I have no doubt that I could have formed a solid friendship with Isla and Noah and maybe even Archie.
But that resolution — the idea of accepting the Mertons just because their generational bond group is so well established — seems like … an evasion now. The path of least resistance.
I tug one of Elias’s contracts across the table toward me. It’s open to the final page with his, Bolan’s, and Sully’s signatures set in black ink, plus two empty spots for Christoph and Rian.
My name isn’t on it because they all think I’m their crux.
They think they’re meant to revolve around me. Just as I had always wanted to revolve around Armin. Had needed to revolve around Armin. He grounded me, made me feel safe within my own skin.
Because the other choice? Accepting what I was capable of? That was too much, too hard. Too scary.
Even before my primary power exerted itself, I was always happy in Armin’s shadow. Happiest when I was tucked right behind him. And after my mind-destroying ability manifested, it was easier to subvert it when I was within Armin’s powerful sphere. Easier to let him be the heir and to shoulder all the expectations that came with that role as well.
That too was the path of least resistance.
I didn’t want to be a murderer. To wield an ability that gave nothing back to the world. It was easier to tuck it away, to hide it, creating a bubble around myself that just grew thicker through the years.
The screen of my phone flashes with the switchboard number, and I know that when I accept the call, Miller Hernandez will be on the other end of the line. When I accept the call, I’ll be accepting whatever happens next. Whatever it takes to protect those who belong to me.
I’m a princess of the realm. The heir to one of the seven intersection points. So the list of people I owe my protection to is actually staggeringly long.
I’ll think about that later. Much, much later.
I tap the screen, accepting the connected call and putting it on speaker at the same time. Even with his shifter hearing, I doubt Bolan can pick up much of the conversation all the way through both apartments. But I’m not hiding any of it from my … my suitors.
“Mx. Hernandez,” I say, my tone perfectly smooth, “I do apologize for disturbing you.” I’m actually not certain if the Hernandezes are back in California or still in Europe. I’m either waking Miller or interrupting them at work.
Their voice is as steady as mine, though, and warmer than I expected. “It’s wonderful to hear from you, Mirth.”
I smile, happily surprised at the tech shifter’s use of my nickname. “I have an issue that I’m hoping you can help me with.”
“A phone you’re trying to track.”
“Yes. It’s an older model of yours, I believe.” I rest my gaze on the phone. Miller’s personal contact photo is displayed on the screen. A sunset across a sandy beach with two figures in the background holding hands. I don’t have to lean closer to know it’s a shot of Miller and their chosen, the model-actress Taylor. “I’m not certain what you can do that the royal guard techs haven’t already done …”
“Your techs have sent me what data they have. Their tracking software is very advanced. Even if the phone was simply powered off, or just broken, they should still be able to pick up a final location. My understanding is that they’re getting nothing at all from it?”
“I don’t know the particulars. Simply that I’ve been concerned about the children I gave the phone to, and one of the techs noticed it was offline. For lack of a better way to put it. They’ve done an on-site visit, and the children aren’t at home.”
