Mates. I’d called us mates.
Cerulean tucks a white lock behind my ear, his expression bending in two directions: mesmerized and indignant. “At first, it was an inkling. A magnetic, unfathomable pull distracted me while around you, though it wasn’t the intrinsic sensations of a bond.”
“Same with me.”
He nods. “Yet when you spoke the word, I believed it to the marrow. Did you find out at the Horizon? Is that one of the details you neglected to mention? Hmm?”
I duck my head. “Seems our kiss in the glassblower’s forge did more than make us blush.”
“Yes, that. It’s uncommon, but it does unite mates in lieu of a natural force. I’ve never forgotten that kiss.”
Neither have I. But there’s one thing the Horizon clammed up about. “Why didn’t we feel the link straight away? Why don’t we feel that bond?”
“Because you’re not a Fae. As such, the only way to elevate that connection is if you willingly make the choice to become one of us.”
I flinch, and Cerulean grins sadly, already knowing my opinion about that. “Despite the flashes of connection, our origins created a barrier, preventing us from having a more acute union. That’s why I never smelled it on you or felt your heartbeat’s tempo as I would my own. We could assume that’s the reason I aged quickly, that I was maturing to your equivalent, but it wouldn’t explain Puck and Elixir’s growth. In any event, magic bonded us, and the disconnect was its price. I suspect that’s why it was seamless for us to become enemies instead of lovers.”
“Also explains why I resisted your flute,” I say. “And why I held my own when we brawled on those ramps. My whip shouldn’t have rivaled a Fae’s javelin, but it did.”
“Because we’re evenly matched,” he finishes. “It’s not that you gained otherworldly strength or that I lost mine. We simply met in the middle.” His fingers trail down my hair, rubbing the strands between his digits. “You didn’t tell me because you thought it would influence my feelings, didn’t you?”
“I needed to know what’s real.”
He drops my hair. “And what have you concluded? That what we shared in the park was meaningless fucking on my part? Or the result of a forced bond? Go on and indulge me,” he bites out. “You’ve failed to share your feelings on the matter.”
“Cerulean, don’t do this. You can’t let me go.”
“On the contrary, I can. Our bond is hardly solidified, as it would be if you were a Fae. That barrier enables us to separate. Yet that’s…not what you meant,” Cerulean realizes, cocking his head. And when I make no reply, he mutters what I think is an oath in Faeish and frames my face once more. “You mutinous one! Since when did you start thirsting for death? The higher you progress, the worse it will get. If I could tell you what lies ahead. If you knew—”
Shoving away from him hurts, but I do it. “I’ve never known. That’s the whole gist of this labyrinth!”
“Brave, infuriating woman! You cannot assume I’ll stand aside and watch you suffer!”
“That’s not your call!” I scream, my finger stabbing in his direction. “Don’t put this on me, Cerulean. I’m not responsible for your redemption!”
He blanches, stumbling backward as if I’d slapped him. A gust batters the single reed of blue dangling over his chest.
Shit. That came out wrong. I hadn’t meant to accuse him of being insincere with his feelings…or had I?
I don’t know, I don’t fucking know. This bond is morphing every sweet second I’ve spent with him, snarling them into a right jumbled mess.
Shadows trickle from the sidelines. The animals take up residence across the lawn, the grass etched in beams of starlight. The cougar sprawls and peers in our direction, the antelope blinks through marble eyes, and the canary hunkers beneath a tree. The fauna sense our tension, and they may be attentive to it, but they’re not picking sides. Not even the wizened owl who waits for a decision to be made, his quills tucked in.
I can’t believe I’m talking Cerulean out of this, that I’m arguing to continue this game, but my reasons should be obvious, because they’ve got green and teal hair, they wear spectacles and speak with a lisp, and I grew up with them, and they’re my family.
Cerulean inspects my features, then understanding dawns. “Your sisters.”
I nod, my voice losing steam. “The rules.”
In an instant, humility loosens his jaw, and his eyes brighten with anguish. Maybe he thought to handle Puck and Elixir himself, to get my sisters out of their clutches even if that means compromising his vow. Knowing Cerulean, he thought to make a deal.
But that’s impossible. He’s so anxious to protect his mate that he actually forgot a critical truth about me and my sisters. All of us win—or none of us win. Our games have already begun, the bargains made, which means they’re cemented.
Just goes to show how desperation can override reason.
I shake my head. “You started this, disguising punishments as bargains. You gave me thirteen days, and I mean to use them.” A gut-wrenching thought pinches my ribs. “But what? You don’t think I can make it through?”
Cerulean looks torn between aghast and insulted. “Back to putting words in my mouth, are you? Heed this: I don’t doubt your strength, and I never shall, nor will I ever stand to see you doubt yourself. That’s not what this is about. I know what’s in store. I know victory will hurt along the way, to the point where…”
