“So what? There’s no such thing as mates?”
“Obviously, there are. Don’t doubt your own experience, Una. I thought I’d drilled at least that into your head.”
She drills a lot. Sometimes it’s hard to separate the wheat from the chaff.
“There are mates,” she goes on. “It’s kind of like—” She looks around the room, and her gaze settles on the tea and sports drink in front of me. I haven’t touched either, yet.
“So you’ve just run a marathon—that’s heat, right?—and there is a beverage perfectly formulated to meet your biological needs.” She points at the sports drink. “Ta da. Your mate. Nothing else will hydrate you. And, usually, a parched, um, runner will really, really dig the drink that quenches their thirst. What’s not to love, right?”
“Sports drink tastes like ass.”
She snaps and points at me. “Exactly. So when the sports drink doesn’t appeal beyond the physical, some people will hold their nose and guzzle it and suffer for life. Some people drink until they’re hydrated and then switch it up. Decide they prefer tea.”
“Like Dierdre and Jimmy.”
“Yup.”
“And Liam and Rowan.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Haisley and Dermot.”
“I see you take my point.”
“So why does everyone say mates are fated?”
“Well, I mean, in a sense, they are. In a biology as destiny sense. It’s almost impossible to have a pup with anyone else.”
Almost impossible, but there are stories about it happening. In other packs. A long time ago. I always thought the stories existed as an excuse for insecure assholes to accuse their mates of sleeping around.
“But the Fates are also—complicated.”
“Are they like sports drinks?”
“No lip from you, little missy,” but Abertha smiles as she says it. Some of the worry that’s been haunting her face since she found me in the thicket disappears. “But yes. They are like sports drinks. And tea.”
Abertha relaxing helps me let go a little. Breathe a little deeper. I take a sip from my cup. It’s sweetened with honey. Just how I like it.
“First off, it’s not Fate, it’s Fates. Plural. And they aren’t necessarily working together. You’ve got the sports drink Fate who is all about the results. Hydration by whatever means necessary. Pups, pups, pups. That’s all she cares about. But then there’s the tea Fates.”
“Tea Fates?”
Abertha is warming to her analogy. Her gray eyes start to dance like they do when she’s enjoying herself. “Uh-huh. Tea Fates are about the journey. Pups are great, but they’re interested in the bigger things—love and destiny and balance and justice. Destroying all sentient life and returning the world to its natural state. That kind of thing.”
“Sounds like a mess.”
“Oh, yes. It is. Look around. Obviously, the powers that be have to be working at cross purposes, right?”
“So why do we all believe that mates are fated?”
“’Cause they are.”
“And when they’re not? Like Jimmy and Dierdre?”
“They still are. The story’s just more—complicated. But people don’t want to think about that too much. Strains their little pea-sized noggins.”
“My little pea-sized noggin is strained.”
“I bet. Drink something.” She smiles wickedly. “Your choice.” She taps the plate of muffins. “And eat.”
“So Killian and I are fated mates?”
“Yes.”
“But he doesn’t think we are?”
“Appears so.”
“And we’re not anymore. You severed the bond.”
“I did sever the bond.”
“So I’m good with the Fates. None of them have any interest in me now, right?”
“Wouldn’t say that.”
“Abertha.”
Abertha shrugs. She’s got a mouthful of baked goods.
Mates or not—fated or not—it doesn’t really matter. I can’t bear the thought of going back to camp.
“Can I stay here?”
Abertha takes a moment swallowing. “I don’t do roommates.” She pats my hand to take the sting away. “I don’t like people eating my food.”
“And yet you’re pushing these muffins pretty hard.”
“They’re three days old. If we don’t eat them, they’ll go to waste.”