“Then dissolve the bond.” I can’t stand hurting him, no matter what mistakes he’s made and how he’s hurt me. “Let me go—for both our sakes.”
He shakes his head. “You ask too much.”
“You’ll stay bonded to me, even knowing I want to be free of it? Knowing I’m falling for someone else? Knowing the way I feel about Finn?”
He flinches. “Yes.” He cups my face. “You’re mine, Abriella. I found you first.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“When did you first suspect?” I ask as we trek on foot through the frigid northern ridge of the Goblin Mountains.
Kane leads the way ahead of us, watching the trail for threats. Tynan brings up the rear while Dara and Luna weave in and out of the trees along our path, scouting for trouble. We’ve been hiking since sunrise, when Finn’s goblin brought us all here.
Finn arches a brow in question.
“That we were tethered,” I say. “That I had some connection to Mab?”
Finn shakes his head, then seems to think better of that response, and he shrugs. “There were signs, but I dismissed them.”
“Like what?”
He blows out a breath. “When being around me made your power flare, it was easy enough to blame that on my connection to the crown. Then, after you were turned fae, when you kept the power of the throne, I blamed your surges in power on the fact that anyone on the throne is strengthened by the people and the land.” He scratches the back of his neck. “And then there were the other hints, the depths of your power and your connection to mine. This connection you’ve felt with me from the beginning . . .” He looks down at his boots and smiles. “I should’ve known.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t even make sense. How can a human be the descendant of a great faerie queen? Wouldn’t I have been born fae?”
“I don’t have those answers,” he says softly. “But this answers more questions than it raises. We never understood how my father had done it to begin with—how he’d been able to give his crown to you when you weren’t Unseelie. The magic wasn’t supposed to work that way.”
I flinch. “You suspected from the beginning then.”
He shakes his head. “No. Not at all.”
“But you said—”
“I never get too caught up in what magic is supposed to do or supposed to be. Magic is rooted in many things—life, first and foremost, but also tradition and love and change. To assume that something magical cannot happen because it’s never happened before goes against all that magic is and stands for. Magic is the possibility of breaking rules. It paves the way for change. I think that’s why we all accepted that for some reason the magic allowed him to pass his crown on to a human.
But he didn’t pass it to just any human.” He cups my face and sweeps his thumb across my cheek. “He passed it to Mab’s heir.”
The swamp looms ahead. The guys spent the first hour of our journey this morning debating the best way to deal with Blight Swamp, arguing whether it was better to waste hours traveling around it or to go through and risk encountering the creatures who make a home in the muck.
Urgency won out, and we ultimately decided we’d go through. We’ll scout for the shallowest part to cross, and Tynan will cast a spell to create a temporary bridge over the water while Kane emits a high-pitch sound that should deter any creature from approaching us.
It seemed like a good plan to me, but judging by the way Kane’s surveying the swamp ahead, I wonder if he’s reconsidering.
“Finn,” Kane says, his voice a low warning. “Stay back for now.”
Finn stops and steps to my side, wrapping an arm around me.
Kane pulls his sword and scoops something up from the muddy bank. He jogs toward us, holding out the blade to show Finn what he’s gathered.
Balanced on the metal is a pile of red stones—no. They’re gray and black. The red is a coating.
Paint or . . . blood.
Finn stiffens behind me, and that arm around my waist tightens. His wolves rush toward Kane to sniff what he’s brought us and then they back away, whining.
Perhaps it’s just the remnants of an animal. Some unlucky forest creature captured by a wolf or a coyote, but judging by the serious faces around me, it’s more than that.
Tynan jogs to a spot farther down the bank and crouches to examine the water. Even from this distance I can hear him muttering a creative string of curses. “We have to go,” he says, straightening.