“I’m afraid not. All I’ve translated so far is that story and a short passage that explains some of the common elements included in all stories about mates. There’s always an aether-heart, there’s always some change to the fae as a result of accepting the bond, and the mates get to choose whether to accept or deny the bond. What that acceptance looks like seems to be unique to each individual story.” The idea that Laurel could choose to deny the mating bond makes my chest ache, but I stay silent. Laurel lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll keep translating,” Admon promises. The old male looks at Laurel with the love of a parent, clearly wanting to help her with this. He hesitates, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. “But, Your Majesty, if I may speak plainly…” he finally says.

“Yes, of course, Admon,” Laurel says.

“It seems to me that Prince Hawthorne may have already accepted the bond, based on how he described his experience. His aether-heart.” His words ring true, and I nod.

“It’s definitely changed, and it… it feels like you,” I say, locking eyes with Laurel. I want to smile, but her expression gives me pause.

“How can you possibly know that?” she demands, somewhat sharply, but I don’t flinch. I just keep meeting her gaze, unwavering in my certainty.

“It’s just an instinct, like the mating bond itself. But I know it’s right.” Her eyes stare at me, searching my expression like she always does, looking for any sign of deceit.

“Your Majesty,” Admon interjects, “based on your description, I think you have not yet accepted the bond. You mentioned a swirling energy trying to get in. My guess is that energy is the bond, waiting for you to accept it. I imagine if you rejected the bond, that energy would go away, and if you accepted, your aether-heart would change.” Laurel practically shudders, and it breaks my heart just a little, but I keep my expression neutral. I won’t pressure her—she needs to decide for herself if she wants to take this leap with me.

“I see,” is all she says, her voice quiet and thoughtful.

Admon clears his throat again, then stands. “I’ll send word if I find anything else.” The male has ascertained that the two of us need a moment alone. With a bow, he leaves the room, and I instantly wrap Laurel’s hands in both of mine.

“Talk to me Laurel. Tell me what you’re feeling,” I whisper, unable to stay silent. I drop my chin to her shoulder. She stalls, looking everywhere but at me. I only squeeze her hand, giving her time.

“Do you really think you’ve accepted the bond?” she finally asks, pulling back from me so she can search my face.

“I do,” I soothe, steady in my resolve.