His Father's Mate

A

lap, breath barely making it past my lips. The ballroom doors loom ahead, wide and gilded, but I hesitate at

en, I

Not a touch, but something

a

h catches. He's watching me-again. I don't know what to make of that. Ever since we left that room, since he touched my face, cl

pened be

e urge to turn and meet his eyes, to read whatev

get th

firm, not forceful, just there-rests at the small of

n, voice a hus

s fi

ngers as he nudges me forward, not forcefully but with

oors

roars wit

e air thickens, pressing in from all sides. A sea of unfamiliar faces-some s

room, the flickering light catching the sharpness of his gaze. But it's

might have ru

lling my legs to keep moving

movement and sound. I go where I am led, let hands guide me into place, let word

's e

ghs or drinks from his goblet, there's always a part of him tethered to me.

oment that steals th

sband-steps forward. The hush

ments, he reaches out and

hrough the hall. S

beaut

ing as the l

ething out o

hing to me. They a

d foreign. A symbol of what I've just

me so quickly that my knees almost buckle

remony

night

ore than I have ever owned-are being packed

ey are n

ything apart f

Lira's? Did they b

el the weight of a stare once more. But this

he man pretendin

nd obligation. He steps forward, hesitates, then pu

aches me before I am usher

oors

lea

rney is

h far beyond my world. I stare out the window, at the shifting landscape, th

everything I have ever know

g on my finger. I twist it, remove it, place it on the s

d stret

the carr

splintering, metal clanking-cuts through the silence. My

n as shouts ring through the air. Then,

ge lanterns, but I see the crease of his br

alright?"

"Just..

out before I

glances around before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't s

e forever." His vo

. "That's not as comfor

Instead, he asks, "What was y

tif

language, in history. How I spent my days i

asies, a

ed. But when he tilts his head, watching me with s

different,"

. "Diff

o has fought for every oun

ath hi

esn't

ontinues in a

ened before. The veil. The touch

t lin

lightly against his knee. The way my ow

dawn, the kingdo

, arching bridges, streets lined with flickering lanterns that bathe

s are eating at me. I h

his gaze never

home, P

not a p

is not