Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,19

kind often form alliances for a hundred years or so, rather than lifetime commitments.

My parents decided to bond for life. It’s less uncommon among pucks and sprites. The great gentries almost never bond, unless they’ve found their own mate. Yet I know this is a true seal. Ciera and Nero must have chosen to bond. I don’t think they are true mates. For one, finding one’s true mate is incredibly rare, but when we do, our skin often bears the mark of it. Ciera’s exquisite gowns reveal most of her throat and arms—I’ve never seen a mating mark. They voluntarily linked in mind, body, and soul until the death of the flesh, which means that when one is killed, the other will soon follow to the grave. Unseelie folk, wild folk, shy folk, elven kind, and seelie often live a thousand years without experiencing a love like that.

I’m half tempted to ask what made her, a princess of the realm, favorite of her mother back in the day, decide to throw everything away for the love of a common fae. But I know. Insanity. She’s completely mad.

Does it run in the family?

I hide a smile.

The moment she sees me, Ciera’s eyes brighten.

“Rystan. Wait, I hear you favor Drusk?”

I shrug. “The high queen may call me as she pleases.”

Her laugh makes me think of her daughter. “Why, I never knew you could be charming. My daughter doesn’t speak much of her friends.”

I attempt no answer.

Her smile drops and she sighs, returning to her brushing. “I owe you, Rystan. More than I should say. We all do.”

She isn’t the first to express some gratitude for the role I’ve taken upon myself—training the folk. I never sought gratitude. I saw something that could prove useful, when I was feeling utterly helpless, and I chose to do it to retain some sanity. That’s all.

But she isn’t talking about the rangers.

“Do you know how it works? Her hair.” She’s looking down at her daughter.

I shake my head. “I’ve always known her to be silver-haired, in our youth.”

“She never was,” the queen tells me. “Vlari was born with a full head of violet curls. I meant to call her Hyacinth.”

I grimace, making the queen laugh again.

“Nero had the same reaction. Either way, we never had a choice. My mother saw her and decided her fate.”

Her hand glides along Vlari’s skin, and pushes fabric down her shoulder. That feels like an invasion. I want to tell her to stop.

“Just there,” Ciera says, brushing the back of her shoulder. “That’s where my mother branded her with old magic. A rune that sucked at her power. Sucked at her very life. All those of our line have an amethyst streak, inherited from our ancestors. And the moment Mother branded Vlari, her hair turned silver at the roots. You know what I noticed, right then? My mother’s violet eyes were brighter. She wasn’t only crippling my daughter. She was channeling her.”

If I could bring Morgana to life right now, I would, only to ensure she suffers greater torments before extracting the last ounce of life from her.

“I vowed I’d find a way to end her rule. I vowed death and violence. But these things aren’t in my nature. Most of all, I vowed Vlari would never be used again. Yet, we’re doing that right now. Sucking at her life to protect ourselves. To maintain our power.”

If she’s hoping for me to disagree, she’ll be disappointed.

“That’s why I intended to wake her on her birthday, no matter the cost. She’ll be eighty come midwinter, you know. And as we approached it, I saw her life draining before my eyes every day. I saw that if I would not condemn us all, I’d have to condemn my daughter instead.”

My jaw ticks. “We still have time.” I move closer, eyes on the soft locks. “She’s still fine. Conscious. Fighting. Is she not?”

She has to be. We talk every day, and she has said nothing of her strength waning. I haven’t seen or sensed any difference in her.

To my shock, the queen drops the brush next to Vlari and rushes to me. I instinctively move into a defensive position, but before I entirely shift to one side to protect my heart, she’s thrown herself at me, arms around my shoulders, and her seemingly frail arms are squeezing me to her.

I’m astounded, confused, and honestly, concerned. For one, what if her bondmate enters and misunderstands the situation? I consider prying her off me, but she’s