“Take your time.” He waves at me, casual and effortless, like we’ve had a hundred interactions just like this one. For once, I appreciate his ability to command every room he’s in instead of feeling jealous of it. And there’s a tiny voice in the back of my mind that whispers to me what a powerhouse the two of us could be together. I push it down, determined to find out more information about the mating bond before I make any rash decisions.

In my closet, I take a few more deep, steadying breaths, then dress in a fresh pair of tight leather leggings with tall, leather, heeled boots. My black tunic is sleeveless and deeply cut. I shake my hair out of its braid, leaving it loose and wavy around my shoulders. I dab my lips with red lipstick. Two can play at this game.

When I return to the sitting room, Thorne looks me up and down, gaze heating. “Ready?” I say, challenge in my eyes. He continues staring as a cocky grin spreads from ear to ear, like he knows exactly what I’m doing and loves every minute of it.

“Lead the way, witchling.”

“Explain to me the moment you say you knew you were mates,” Admon gently says in his comfortable rooms next to the palace library. We barreled into his room during his dinner, claiming we were mates and asking him for whatever information he might have. The old fae had graciously let us in and offered dinner or drinks, the very picture of nobility. When we declined refreshments, he slowly seated himself across from us and started asking questions, a genuine sense of curiosity lining his queries.

“I realized first, after I drew her blood. As soon as I scented it, this bottomless awareness washed over me, like she was the answer to a question I’d been asking all my life,” Thorne says, wonder back in his gaze as he looks over at me. How can he feel so calm and in awe when he talks about it? I’m baffled. My instincts—the voices that sound so similar to my parents—are screaming at me to run from this bond, to not let Thorne in.

“Was it the same for you, Laurel?” Admon asks, breaking me out of my spiraling. Admon’s eyes twinkle with knowing.

“No,” I say slowly. “Thorne had to guide me there.”

“There?” Admon asks. “Is it a place?” His curious observation remains focused on me, parental in his attention.

“In a way, it is. I have this source of magic, buried deep within me, that I only really realized existed today, though I think I might have sensed it before. Especially since Thorne arrived. And when I focus on that source, I feel a swirling around it, like something’s trying to get in. That source whispered to me what we were.” Thorne looks at me with his brows furrowed. Admon notices.