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“I’m sorry I loved you too late. But I’m yours. Every piece of me.”
Theon didn’t say another word.
Only lifted the dagger above her chest and sank it into her heart.
* * *
Tessa blinked her eyes open, the final vision of her last assessment still playing in her mind.
Those godsdamn priestesses.
Anything they could think of to try to force her gifts to manifest. Trying to make her believe she could ever love the male wrapped around her.
Theon’s breathing was deep, but his grip on her had not lessened. That was fine. The bond was comforting as it hummed away in her chest. She found it funny that she’d been fighting the thing for so godsdamn long when she could have been using it this entire time.
She shifted, needing to get up and move, but Theon murmured, “Where are you going?”
“To get a drink,” she whispered, gently prying his arm from around her.
He huffed but didn’t stir again, and she slipped from the bed, pulling on the thermal shirt he still left out for her. Making her way to the small sitting area, she was hoping to find a bottle of alcohol, but there was nothing and wasn’t that disappointing.
Shrugging, she started across the room in the other direction towards a large window. She pulled the heavy curtain aside, and in the dim glow of dawn, she could just make out the darker lands of the Shade Plains starting to take over in the distance. She’d realized that each of the ruling families’ country manors were actually in their own kingdoms, just outside of the Acropolis boundaries.
Too restless to get back into bed, she dragged a chair out of the walk-in closet and took a seat near the window. She rested her chin in her hand, her elbow propped on the window ledge, wishing this room had a balcony. What kind of manor home didn’t have rooms with balconies?
If she had to guess, the Achaz Lord’s manor would have balconies for all the suites. They would overlook the Wynfell River, not barren shade lands.
Sighing, she finally let herself contemplate some of the things Rordan Jove had said to her.
Not Fae. Not even demi-Fae.
So what was she?
That’s what she had asked the Lord. She clearly had Achaz gifts. She had assumed she was an Achaz Legacy, but Rordan hadn’t seemed convinced. When she asked why, he’d said because the strength of her gifts not only suggested otherwise, but her gifts were not limited to Achaz.
Achaz couldn’t call forth a storm indoors.
She’d asked more questions—some simple, some more complex—and he’d answered every single one. Even the ones he couldn’t fully answer, he’d told her his thoughts and why he had formed such theories.
No secrets.
Nothing withheld from her.
Honest and genuine answers.
Or so it had seemed.
Legacy were never honest and genuine. They always wanted something. Always looking at what she could give them.
She tugged the band from the end of her braid, unwinding the plait and letting the still damp hair fall over her shoulders. She didn’t realize she’d started humming until she was folding her arms along the window ledge, resting her chin atop them. The lyrics of the song spun through her mind, matching the melody of her soft hum.
In all things, there must be balance. Beginnings and Endings. Light and Dark. Fire and Shadows. The sky, the sea, the realms.
Over and over she hummed the ballad as her thoughts shifted from one thing to the next. She didn’t know who to trust anymore, so she would trust no one. Not until they’d proven themselves, given her a reason to believe there wasn’t some ulterior motive behind every word and action.
But when the scales tip, and Chaos rains, who will fight? And who will fall?
Dex had been there, bound to Achaz Kingdom. His off-white hair curving up over his shoulders, soft and feathery. Wait, no. That hadn’t been right. That part had been wrong, but he’d been there. That was still strange. Even if he’d been claimed early, what was he doing in the private manor of the Achaz Lord?
