Page 82 of Fate

Lucian continued to look over the list, and she looked to Vandran, mouth dry despite the tea she could have sipped. Lucian had given her no permission to ask anything like what had settled on the tip of her tongue and weighted on her stomach like a stone. But the lawmancers were trained in the service oftheir people, were they not? And she was people. Just the regular sort, not just Lucian’s mate.

“Vandran,” she began, not looking at Lucian. Keeping her voice calm and measured, and more importantly, the bond. She’d been sworn to no secrets. Had not been bribed or cajoled into silence. Perhaps they had thought Lucian would take care of such matters.

But he hadn’t.

“Hmm?” Vandran turned his attention to her, his eyes kind.

“Growing up,” she began, her thumb sliding over the rim of her cup, over and over. This wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be. “We were always told there were laws to protect the bond. The sacred nature of mating. That... that it was the highest offence to meddle with a pairing the Maker had put together.”

Lucian grew very still.

She couldn’t look at him. Could feel him pull at the bond, a warning? Or perhaps a caution. Was there a difference between the two? She didn’t know. He would.

“Is that true? Or is it just what’s said amongst...” she stumbled over her words, but caught herself quickly. “Just regular people.”

She didn’t like that it made it sound like members of the Hall or dwellers in high towers werespecial,but it couldn’t be helped.

Vandran leaned forward and kept his attention solely on her. “Have you been threatened, dear? You can tell me.” She did not know what to say. Hadn’t intended to prattle on about the entire wretched supper and his family and their twisted insinuations. But she could admit she was tempted. She cared for Lucian, not for them. And he hadn’t... he’d done no wrong in it. Not really. He’d taken care of her. Wanted to provide for her. And she did not want that jeopardised.

“I didn’t...” She clasped her hands tightly together. “I do not know how to answer that.”

His eyes slid toward Lucian. “Then perhaps you might.”

Lucian smoothed the paper down in his lap. “She is in no danger,” he declared firmly.

“You dislike my father. And perhaps that gives just cause to be mistrustful of me. Of how I might treat my mate.” He shifted, and she was certain he wanted to look her way, but he didn’t. “I honour our bond. What anyone else might find... troublesome about how it came to be, or the rightfulness of her pairing...” he leaned forward ever so slightly. “It is no longer any concern of ours.”

She wished that might be true. Felt the swell of hope that maybe she might have the whole of him, would never have to even think about his family ever again.

But then she thought of Orma. Of the friend she’d hoped to gain.

And she felt a whole new sort of guilt that she could so happily extricate herself and her mate, and leave her behind.

“I just need to know if it’s true,” Firen insisted. “Are these laws in place to protect the bond?”

Vandran frowned, glancing between the two of them for a moment before he answered. “They are,” he answered slowly. “I do wish, however, I had a better understanding of your intention. Is this about inheritance? There is some leeway given on selecting one child over another, but it is generally a matter of practicality.” He leaned back and rubbed at his chin. “If it is about the tower...”

Firen shook her head fervently. “I do not care about that. I mean...” she took a breath, and her hands tightened together. “I care for Lucian’s sake. I’m sorry about what he’s lost because of his father.” Because of her.

No. That was accepting blame that was not hers to shoulder.

“I was not of the understanding that you had any living siblings.”

Lucian answered calmly, as if it was a query he received every day. “I do not.”

“Then there are laws to protect you, should you wish to bring it before the Hall when the time comes.” His smile was thin, but genuine. “Not that it helps your current predicament.” He gestured toward the paper. “I am curious, Lucian. You never thought to look? To see your entitlements?”

Lucian placed the sheet back on the desk, but kept it facing the both of them. “It did not seem relevant at the time. I... placed my trust in error, or so it would appear.”

As if he was to blame for his father being... what he was.

“I’ll not make you begin again,” Vandran offered, bringing out a pen and one of the small books cluttered about the desk’s surface. “I find your willingness admirable, but I will amend your cycle if I find your education lacking in other facets.”

It wasn’t anger she felt from Lucian. It wasn’t embarrassment either. But it was uncomfortable all the same. He did not like being seen as inadequate. Lacking. And she could well imagine why, given his upbringing. But he offered no defence, no assurance. Just sat and nodded and took whatever Vandran attributed to his name.

She did not need to defend him, either. He was clever—had to have been, to have survived so long. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t comfort him, even if it was only to place her hand on his arm and squeeze it just once, retreating with a little smile when he glanced her way.

“You’ll be brilliant,” she murmured, and he rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the bond warmed and he wasn’t angry with her for touching him in view of someone else.