9. Veyka

I kneeled there for hours.

Isolde and Morgyn exchanged more words. I only half heard them. My mind lent just enough focus to determine they were non-threatening. But not a fraction more. They came and went. None of the other priestesses approached. If they had, I would have stabbed first and asked questions later.

Or maybe I would not have even bothered with a knife.

Maybe I would have ripped their throats out with my teeth for daring to approach my mate.

The sun beat down on the back of my neck, no mists left to provide cover as it tracked across the sky. I did nothing to cover it. Felt my pale skin burning, and healing, and burning again. I savored the pain. Pain was the least that I deserved after what I'd done to my mate.

My fault.

That gaping hole in his chest?

My fault.

The once strong golden thread of our mating bond, now reduced to a tenuous frayed remnant?

My fault.

Arran's closed eyes.

I had been so focused on my vengeance, on killing Gorlois, that I did not even consider the possibility. Arran wore the scabbard. He was safe.

Safe from everyone but me.

The ice inside of me spread, turning brittle. One well-placed blow, and I would shatter.

You cannot shatter.

I wanted it to be Arran's voice offering that reassurance. But it was my own sad internal monologue whispering to me.

You have a kingdom to protect.

And the Faeries of the Fen. A kingdom in Annwyn, an entire race trapped in the human realm. At least they were safe—for now. Taliya believed that their hidden cave refuge would hide them, that with the amulets of amorite around their necks, the faeries would be safe from the succubus.

But the succubus already knew where they were. What else could explain the mass of them in the forest right above the entrance to the faerie caves? Eventually, the succubus would come. They may not take over the faerie's minds and bodies, but they would rip them apart. There were no warriors among the fierce but peaceful faerie colony. Osheen and Arran had verified that.

Arran.

The granite where I rested my head had turned warm from the contact with my skin. Strange, that my skin still radiated warmth when my insides were cold and frozen.

Folly. It had been such folly to allow myself to care about the world beyond myself. Had I left before the Joining, like I'd always planned, none of this would have happened. My void power would never have awoken. The succubus would not have found the entry they needed into Annwyn and the human realm. My friends and my kingdom would be safe. So would Arran. The guilt rose up in my chest, threatening to melt the ice, to burn me from the inside out. My fault.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

I shoved it back down. Guilt wasn't useful, not now. It would not save my kingdom, or my friends, or my mate. Guilt was a private luxury. I could cry alone in my tent, in the cold, empty bedroll. The ice protecting my heart had to remain in place. Without it, I would never get up from this grass. I would stay here at Arran's side forever.

Which is when I realized I'd already made my decision.

Voices floated through the mist. Morgyn and Isolde, approaching. The latter was chattering endlessly. The Lady of the Lake hardly spoke at all. But I could feel her presence. If magic flowed through the very air of the sacred isle, it centered on her.

She'd been a disappointment to Igraine and Gorlois. Abandoned—how had she come to live here? Not just a priestess, but the priestess. The Lady of the Lake.

Morgyn had spent two weeks evading my questions and denying me access to Avalon and my mate. Yet when Isolde and I appeared, she was neither surprised nor angry.

Why?

Though, she could have been both of those things and I wouldn't have known it. Not with her perfectly neutral face. On her perfectly neutral island. Which meant that attempting to convince her to aid us in the fight against the succubus was a total and complete waste of my time. Even if it would keep me here at my mate's side for longer.

But still… she was allowing me access now. Why?

Because she realized I wasn't going to leave if she did not.

Everyone seemed intent on me moving on. On leaving Arran.

Fuck all of them. Fuck all of it. Arran was my mate. Leaving him was a betrayal. I'd promised to wait a thousand years. I'd wait that and a thousand more. Eternity. That's what I'd promised to Arran—to myself.

And we'd pledged those years together to Annwyn.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

My heart was going to break. Ice or no. It wasn't going to be enough to hold it together. To hold me together.

You can do this, Princess.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

I knew it wasn't real. That it wasn't really Arran, that he couldn't speak to me through the tattered bond, in that enchanted sleep. It was my deluded mind, my broken heart, conjuring his voice in my head to give me strength. But I clung to it nonetheless. If I'd still believed in praying to the Ancestors, I would have beseeched them for strength and courage. Prayed for that voice in my head to be followed by a growl, a growl to fill me up.

But the ice remained, uncracked. Unthawed.

Morgyn and Isolde were close enough to hear their words clearly. Isolde's, at least. My perfectly neutral sister didn't speak at all, keeping her own counsel as always. But I had a plan for that too, I realized.

I blocked them out as I stood, refused to let their voices intrude on this moment. It belonged to me and Arran.

He might have been sleeping. He was sleeping, I reminded myself. But he did not turn into my hand as I stroked my fingers along the side of his face. After a fortnight, he should have had the beginnings of a beard. But the stubble along his chin and throat was unchanged from that awful day. He was as frozen as me.

I leaned down, pressing my forehead to his. His skin was cool, none of the eternal warmth I'd come to cherish. It was all so wrong. But I did not pull away. I inhaled deep, filling the chasms inside of me with his scent of earth and spice. And though it nearly broke my heart to do it, knowing he wouldn't pull me close or respond to my touch, I pressed my lips to his.

I let one more tear fall.

And as I rose, the wall of ice inside of me thickened.