“You fucking helped me get ready for the fucking matchmaking event! What the fuck did you think would happen?”
My mother sags a little, swaying on her feet.
I fill in the blanks. “You thought I wasn’t good enough for Mirth.”
“I love you, Bolan, but why must you always have to be so dramatic!? You cannot mate the heir to the United European Nation. It will never happen. She needs … Mirth needs … a prince.”
My voice softens under a momentary onslaught of grief. “The prince is dead.”
My mother reels back from me, hurt and shocked.
I press her anyway.
“Armin took a chunk of my soul with him when he died. Fortunately, Mirth owns the rest.” I swallow, then make an acknowledgement out loud for the first time. “I’m part of the Savoy bond group. It was never just one prince fated to Mirth. It was six of us. Originally.”
My mother blinks at us, unable to fully absorb — or, more accurately, to process — my claims.
But it’s Mirth’s energy that surrounds me, that steadies me, as her eyes turn from my mother to me. I can feel that purple-eyed gaze sliding across my face. And when I turn to her, I see she’s gazing up at me with sadness, but with more of that gentle joy as well.
“We’re soul bound.” Mirth smiles, hesitant. It’s the first time she’s acknowledged the connection between us. Out loud, at least.
I don’t like the sadness, the tentativeness, underlying that smile, so I pull her into me, pivoting so my back is to my mother. So I’m shielding Mirth from her weirdly judgemental gaze. I cup her face and press my forehead to hers so that I’m all she sees as I whisper, “We were carved out of the same bit of the universe. Soul bound to find each other through each life we spend walking the earth.”
Mirth just gazes up at me, capturing what little of me still belongs to me alone in the depths of her eyes. I know I still need to prove myself. I know it will take another lifetime to do that, but this moment, right here, is everything I need to —
Behind me, my mother huffs. “Well, at least you’re both just as delusional as the other. And yes, I have maple syrup.” She pivots away.
As if that’s the end of the conversation.
As if she can freak out, say a bunch of shit, then just walk away.
I keep my forehead pressed against Mirth’s, but I raise my voice so my mother knows I’m addressing her. “I can hear Sophia and Emily moving around upstairs. Is Livi around? She’s going to want to be here for the next part of this conversation.”
My mother hesitates halfway out of the mudroom.
I glance at her over my shoulder, still so fucking angry about what she’s kept from me. What she’s kept from all my siblings. “You’ll never guess who else is part of the Savoy bond group.”
Not content to be hidden from view, Mirth shifts slightly to the side. I’ll have to get used to that, to not being able to hoard her away from the world.
Mirth’s movement draws my mother’s gaze, and Adeline Yates Harris finally rallies enough to remember who she’s supposed to be in this moment. “Congratulations, Mirth. I’m so pleased you found your … mates.”
“You don’t believe in such connections?” Mirth says quietly.
My mother’s shoulders stiffen. It’s subtle, but I catch it.
“I always thought you and dad were chosen mates,” I say, unable to adopt as much of Mirth’s poise as I would like.
“We were,” my mother snaps defensively.
“Is that why the bite mark bothers you?” I ask. “Because you two never exchanged bites?”
“That is none of your business.”
“It is when you’ve been hiding a baby brother from us all.”
My mother’s eyes widen. I’m not sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that accusation.
She also knows exactly what I’m talking about.
