“What I’ve done?” I asked, narrowing my eyes on her. “You think I had a choice in this?”

“You’re bonded now,” Kalia hissed, her silver tears welling in her eyes. “This can’t be undone!”

“You don’t think I know that?” I asked, gnashing my back teeth.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” she flung back. “The blood of our enemy in the Kaalium’s bloodline. Only now your sons and daughters will share Hara blood too.”

I stiffened. A growl of warning rose from my throat, violent and quick, making Kalia still. She was too loose with her tongue. Her temper often got the best of her, and I saw the flash of guilt on her face before she looked away from me.

“My plans haven’t changed,” I informed her gruffly. “This changes nothing.”

Kalia shook her head, disregarding my words. “Then you’re a fool. And I never thought you a fool before now, brother. This changes everything.”

Running a palm over my horn, I cursed low under my breath.

Kalia sniffed and said, “Maybe I will go to Salaire after all. To live with Lucen.”

My lips pressed.

“Maybe that would be for the best,” I told her, ignoring the twist of hurt on her face. “Her presence here obviously upsets you. Regardless of what you believe, Kalia, the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“Then send her away,” she pleaded softly, blinking up at me. “Send her away before the blood bond grows too strong.”

If Kalia could feel what I felt, she would know how laughable her words sounded to me. Which should’ve been my first hint that I was already in too deep.

“I can’t do that.”

Kalia nibbled on her bottom lip, her small fang poking out. When she’d been younger, she couldn’t quite learn how to retract them properly and now often forgot when they were out.

“Then I’d better get used to her being here,” Kalia finally said. Softly. Resigned.

The thing about my sister was that she had a big heart. Yes, she had a quick temper, like our father, but she had the ability to forgive and accept just as quickly. She was the kindest soul I knew too, though she could have a cutting tongue.

The side of Gemma I’d witnessed tonight—vulnerable and honest but proud—I had a feeling that Kalia and Gemma would get along just fine. More than fine. If she opened herself up to Gemma, they might even find themselves friends.

And that honestly worried me more than the blood bond.

“Have you even told our brothers yet? About what she is to you?” she asked quietly. “Have you told Kythel?”

Unease slid in my belly. “No. Not yet.”

Kalia shook her head slowly.

“I’m sure he can already feel it,” she said.

Chapter 19

Gemma

It was early afternoon, and I was plucking dead flowers from the underbrush of the rotting vines, tossing them haphazardly behind me.

The thought of being inside the keep that day—even returning to the records room—filled me with restlessness.

I needed to be outside. I needed to be doing something with my hands, my attentions diverted, the sunlight warming my skin.

And it was a beautiful day too. A cool breeze swept through the terrace where I was working, bringing with it the brininess of the sea. The sun was high overhead, and my dress was beginning to cling to my back from the sweat.

For today I’d chosen a loose, thin material.

Which was a lucky thing, I realized shortly after I’d begun cleaning the banisters.

Because with every small, minuscule movement, the smooth fabric would brush Azur’s bite across my breast.

It didn’t hurt, but the flesh surrounding the two fang marks was overly sensitive.

Every touch against it brought a spark. A memory of awareness, of arousal and frustration spiraling through me.

I was confused. Terribly, desperately confused.

Which was why I didn’t want to be cooped up within the keep, no matter how desperately I wanted to continue sorting through the old lore records.

I didn’t want to feel desire and pleasure whenever Azur drank from me. I didn’t want to feel anticipation. Yet last night, I’d been holding my breath, impatient, as he’d taunted me.

I’d sparked that feeding. I’d pushed the subject of it because it had been easier than having to talk about my father and the sisters that I loved and had left behind.

There was another strange emotion I’d discovered too.

Because in the aftermath of Azur nearly flying out of the room, chasing after Kalia once she’d discovered us, I had felt my throat tighten. I had felt my belly lurch.

And the pinch.

The terrible pinch of what I knew was jealousy had alarmed me almost as much as my eager submission for Azur’s bite.

The betrayal on Kalia’s face had haunted me late into the night. I should’ve been grateful that her interruption had propelled Azur from the room—leaving me to process what had happened between us—only I wasn’t.

I felt like a damn mistress.

Something dirty.

Something hidden away.

Grumbling under my breath, I tore at some blackened vines that were wrapped around the legs of the banister. They were brittle in my palms and nearly disintegrated into dust when I tugged.

A shadow flew over me, briefly flickering the sun, dappled along the terrace’s worn stones.

Looking up, I didn’t see anything, and I wiped my sweaty forehead, likely smearing vine rot over my skin. My dress tightened uncomfortably around my legs when I shifted, and I grumbled again, wondering if I could make some pants and some loose tops, like Ludayn’s. Hers seemed more comfortable than—

A loud thomp just behind me nearly made me screech in alarm.

“What are you doing?” came the loud, anguished cry.

Kalia.

I froze as she came into view. Her hair was wind swept. Had it been her shadow I’d seen flying above?

“Good afternoon,” I found myself saying, my brain not quite caught up with my tongue, “I’m just—”

Her glare rivaled Azur’s, cutting me to the bone.

And that glare made me freeze all over, making my lips part.

Because for the first time, I could see something that I hadn’t before.

She and Azur had the same eyes.

The same exact eyes.

It was his glare spearing me right now.

“Oh,” I breathed, refusing to acknowledge the relief that spread through my chest at the realization. That was incredibly alarming. “Oh, gods, you’re—”

“Put them back!” Kalia growled. “Put them back now, and don’t touch these ever again!”

“Put them back?” I asked, still reeling. I frowned, looking down to the rot. “There is nothing to put back.”

When I looked up, I stiffened because tears had pooled in her gaze. Though she was glaring daggers at me, she looked like she was on the verge of breaking down.

“Kalia, I’m sorry,” I breathed. I didn’t understand what was causing this. “I’m trying to help them grow, not hurt them! Look at all the rot under here.”

I lifted a section I hadn’t yet reached. The underside of the banister was nearly stained black with it.

“I’m clearing it all out so more will grow,” I said hurriedly, seeing her examine the rot, blinking. “But these plants haven’t been tended to in a very long time. They need a little help, and then they’ll be even stronger than before, I promise.”

My words seemed to mollify her. It took long, tense moments of dragged out silence for her shoulders to finally slump forward. She prodded at a deadened vine with her booted foot, refusing to meet my eyes, even as she wiped at her silver-streaked cheeks.

And in that moment, she reminded me of Piper. Piper with her vibrant though mercurial emotions. She ran hot, but she could also be achingly sweet. Even shy.