Misha nods. “You’re sure you have the strength for this?”
“I’d like to find out.”
“It’s difficult, and of course, in the purest execution of the bond, you’d never want to block it.”
“Never?” I ask. It’s so hard to imagine wanting to be aware of what someone else feels at all times. More often than not, I want to hide my emotions, not advertise them.
Misha shrugs. “It’s a soul-deep, lifelong connection. Forever and always is the point. In fact, there are some couples for whom the connection of the bond isn’t enough.”
“What more do they want?” I don’t try to hide the horror in my voice.
“They want forever. They want the promise that the bond can never be undone and they’ll never have to live without each other. These couples travel to the River of Ice beneath the Goblin Mountains and swim in the waters, tying their lives together for eternity.”
“But why?”
Misha scoffs. “No one can accuse you of being a romantic.”
“Don’t you ever just want to be alone? ”
He arches a brow. “If I want to be alone, I can be alone.”
I shake my head. He doesn’t understand what I’m asking. “You’re saying that you walk around completely aware of Amira’s feelings at all times?”
His perpetually amused smirk falls away. “What makes you think I’m bonded to Amira?”
Oh. Oh. “She’s you’re wife. I just thought . . .”
“Our marriage was for political advantage, not a love match,” he says. “I needed her as my wife.
And while most assume we are bonded, since that is the tradition of ruling spouses in my court, it wasn’t necessary. I had no interest in forcing my bride to partake in something so intimate.”
Swallowing, I stare at my feet. It’s so easy to think of Pretha as the losing party in their tangled relationship. She was in love with the female who was betrothed to her brother, and when her parents found out, they sent her away. I never gave much thought to how that must’ve been for Misha, marrying a woman who didn’t love him, who wanted his sister. “I’m sorry,” I say, but when I look up again, the amusement has returned to his expression.
“Why?”
“I just . . . The whole situation. I’m sorry you didn’t get to marry someone you love.”
“I do love her, Abriella.” He pours himself a cup of coffee. “Maybe not in the way husbands love their wives in your world, but she is dear to me. She’s my best friend, as you humans might say it.”
“Will you two have children?” The question flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. I’m overstepping. It’s practically obscene to ask such a personal question, and it’s absolutely none of my business.
“Amira has lovers,” he says with a shrug. “As do I. Perhaps one day we’ll be blessed with a child, but if not, there are many others in my line who would serve as capable rulers.”
They both have lovers, but not each other? I’ve pushed far enough already, so I don’t dare ask. It’s not like it’ll change anything for Pretha, even if I do want my friend to be able to be with the one she loves.
My friend? Is she still that? Even now?
“For what it’s worth, I believe my sister considers you her friend,” Misha says with a sad smile.
“You’ll just have to decide if you’ll allow her to be yours.”
I clench my jaw, but instead of scolding him for reading my thoughts, I shake my head. “Tell me how to block.”
He sighs, and I wonder if he was hoping to talk me into trusting his sister again. “I’m trying to think of a good path for you.” He taps his index finger to his lips. “How about this? I want you to think of the difference between being mortal and being immortal.”
“The difference?” I ask.
“It’s hard to say what that means for you. After all, you had power even before you became immortal. But even so, your connection to that magic is different now, isn’t it?”
I nod. “Completely different.” I could tap into it before, but it was usually a conscious choice. A decision. Now it’s just there. All the time. Now it’s more like I have to consciously choose not to use it.
“Tell me,” he says.
I shrug. “It’s just there now.”
“Describe it. Before. How was it not there before?”
“It’s almost as if magic is right in front of me now. All around me all the time. I don’t have to search for it or even open my eyes to know it’s present. Whereas before, using it was more like . . .” I try to think of a way to explain. “It’s the difference between looking at something right in front of you and looking at it through a grimy window.”