Page 11 of Little Mate

“We got you, Gabriella,” my brother's voice comes from my other side, and I look over, meeting the eyes of a younger version of our father. The resemblance is strong; the sole difference outside of the age is Leo’s blue eyes, which he shares with Isa and Mom. From the thick brows to his stubbornness, the kid is a constant reminder and the heir to the Moore throne. “Just cry. You’ve been strong long enough.”

His words bring forth guilt. The last thing he should be worried about is my emotional state.

Leonardo has so much on his shoulders. Too much.

His life thus far has been a nonstop grooming session.

Isabella and me, we’ll eventually find our mates, and there’s always the possibility that they’re not of magical proclivities. They can be anything. Even human. And while we’ll help and take control until he comes of age to take the crown, my sister has always made it known that someday, we’d leave.

My sobs quiet down. I fight them back, but the slow roll of tears doesn’t abate. Instead, they stain the skirt of my dress, my body hunching over as I breathe deeply in and out, slowly trying to recover my composure. It’s a pointless struggle, impossible, because the two people in the world whom I love more than my own life are also struggling.

That’s the part of my gift that can be both a blessing and a curse.

To manipulate life, you must open yourself and accept every single part of a person’s essence—meld yourself with it. It leaves me susceptible. Empathetic.

“I’m okay,” I say after a while. My throat is sore, and swallowing is a bit hard around the still-present knot, but I manage and stand with shaky legs. They follow me, each with a hand gripping my arm. “But we do need to talk. There’s a decision to be made, and it affects us all.”

“There isn’t a choice, Gabby.” Leo’s expression, while sad, is determined. His inner strength, the warlock within him, demands respect.

This amuses me; a slight chuckle slips past my lips. “Put away the commanding voice, kid. You’re not king yet.”

“I don’t know…” Isabella bumps her shoulder with mine, a smirk on her lips “…this time I agree with his majesty. My lord does know best.”

“You two are impossible.” His grumble, that thirteen-year-old grumpy demeanor cuts through what’s left of my tension. He’s not as strong as Isabella and me. His magic hasn’t shown signs of surpassing what we experience: feel, see, or manipulate, but he will.

One day.

He’s destined for greatness.

“I’m not against going back—”

“But you need to protect me?” Leo cuts in. He’s pensive for a few minutes, not meeting my stare but focusing on the wall behind me. Then he paces, turns around, and walks the circumference of the room a few times before coming to a stop in front of us once again with his hands clasped behind his back. So much like Dad. “What if I stay with Uncle Roberto? That’s close enough, but not in the way. You can reach me quickly if needed while doing what you must to end those responsible.”

At the mention of my father’s brother, I bite back the curse words sitting on the tip of my tongue. In the two months since our parents’ murders, the man never sent word or offered his assistance during our mourning. Never asked if we needed him—or anything—and it doesn’t sit well with my soul.

And while I get that he too lost someone he loves, even a hello via the soldiers that took turns and traveled through this city he lives in, the group of three that rotates duties, so we’d always have guards, would’ve meant a lot. I’d know we aren’t fully alone. That someone cares.

Think rationally, Gabriella. Emotions don’t solve problems, but rather create them.

Dad’s words, the ones he’s been drilling into my head since my early teens, filter through and I pause. He’s right. My personal feelings aside, Leo staying behind and safe is what matters most, and if I must play nice until this all passes, then so be it.

I will hash this out with our uncle afterward.

“I’m agreeable to that.” Wiping away the last of my tears, I take the few steps between us and hug him, one that Isabella joins while also giving me a nod. Telling me without words that she’s on board with this plan. For a few minutes, we remain this way, quietly accepting what’s to come and the bloodshed that will follow. Those who rose against us will die. “We pack tonight and head out in the morning?”

It’s our brother’s turn to nod while Isabella lifts her head and meets my red-rimmed eyes. Her expression matches my tumultuous emotions: anger, pain, and sadness. “Let’s go home. We can’t escape destiny.”

4

GABRIELLA

Our trip back to Italy has been somber for the most part. Quiet.

The only sound inside the quiet cab of the train we’re taking home is that of Leo’s snores while Isabella stares out the window. We’ve been on the move for a few days now; some by water and now by a locomotive, but soon we’ll reach Naples where a few of Father’s horses await us.

The Salernitano breed is a strong one. It can withstand an enchantment and live longer than the average stallion and travel far without pause. They’ll be how we move away from the city—human dwellings—and back into our beloved forest near Messina.

Onyx is my favorite of the three being taken care of by a coven loyal to the crown until our return. They’re a little out of the way, but if my father trusted them, then so do we. That, and it was through their help that we reached the boat traveling to England and boarded safely.

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