Page 51 of Ruin of Revenants

Then he was gone. I’d expected him to be annoyed or angry at the reminder of his failure. Fear was odd, unless he was scared for his safety. That had to be it—he knew the phoenix had every right to hate him and see him as a target. I’d become so accustomed to their hatred and cruelty, I’d forgotten it was rooted in fear.

Archer

“How long before we can make our excuses and leave?” Owen muttered as soon as he found me at the party, a drink already clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

Though I was weary of pretending like everything was normal, Owen had never loved these parties, preferring to keep to himself. His white knuckles told me he was entirely out of his comfort zone, and his eyes kept roaming toward the exit as if reminding himself it was near. I smiled and nudged him in the side. “A few more drinks and none of us will care. Drink up, friend.”

Owen sighed and rolled his eyes, but when I grasped drinks for Isoria and me from a passing tray, he clinked his glass to mine.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Lily appeared at our side, slipping her arm through Isoria’s. “Father couldn’t make it tonight and I have endured far too many conversations already about different fighting tactics and theories about possible conflict with Brighthollow.” She turned to Isoria with an eager smile. “Tomorrow? I’m free. Could we steal Archer’s quarters and have some proper girl time? Or you could come riding with me if you’d like some fresh air.”

Isoria’s alarm came clearly through our bond. “I’m not much of a rider.” Of course not; you transform and fly, I thought. “But I’m sure Archer would let us use his quarters.” She tossed me a too-sweet grin, like a besotted fiancée.

“Or we could go out and explore the city,” Lily continued, her excitement building. “I know you haven’t seen much of the Upper District. I could show you some of my favorite shops—Archer has plenty of spare coin to spoil his beloved with.”

My own discomfort grew. How do you plan to lie your way through a heart-to-heart with Lily when she demands to know every detail of our romance? I asked Isoria.

She schooled her expression into careful neutrality as she sipped her drink. Maybe you should tell your friends the truth about our bond, if you trust them that much. Even as her voice sounded in my mind, her emotions swirled around me, a tangle of frustration and fear and sorrow.

They gave me pause. Was Isoria growing fond of my friends and afraid of how they’d react if I revealed her true identity? I shook off the thoughts. What did it matter? I didn’t want to share this heavy news with them, one more secret they’d have to keep tucked away. Besides, what if there was no way to break the blood bond, despite Isoria’s convictions? I couldn’t see any way forward but being forced to marry and tolerate one another’s presence.

Before I could respond, I realized Lily and Isoria were already deep in conversation, the former sharing something about what she’d read in a book recently. “If you prefer a quieter day, we could always cozy up in Archer’s library and read. I’ve tucked away some of my favorite romances there, so we’d have enjoyable reading material.”

Isoria smiled dreamily. “An escape for the day sounds wonderful. I could bake us some cookies too.”

Lily gasped dramatically, her eyes lighting up. “You bake? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised since you didn’t grow up in the pomp and circumstance of the castle, but that sounds marvelous. We could ask the servants to stock Archer’s pantry with anything you could possibly need. I adore anything chocolate.” She pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes fluttering closed as if she was already dreaming of eating a treat.

“Ah, there you are, brother.” Briar’s voice pierced the hum of conversation around us and made Isoria and Lily freeze instantly.

Isoria’s discomfort mirrored my own, for my sister taking any special notice of my supposed betrothed couldn’t lead to anything good. And Lily, though she tried to be diplomatic and kind on the rare occasions she did socialize with Briar, enjoyed spending time with the self-absorbed female about as much as I did. It seemed as impossible to accept that we shared blood as it was to believe we both had been begotten by our half-troll father, but our similar facial features and matching green eyes proved the former as much as our mind magic confirmed the latter.

Tipping my glass toward Briar in a casual salute, I sported a lazy smirk. “Where else would I be but near the drinks?” I nodded toward the corner where an entire table was set up with miniature fountains flowing with wine in nearly every shade imaginable.

Briar rolled her eyes, as if the idea of imbibing was beneath her. She never had been much of a drinker, too concerned with her appearance and how everyone perceived her to risk the chance of making a drunken fool of herself. “I was hoping you would give me a proper introduction to your new beloved.” Her smile was all teeth as her voice put a little too much emphasis on new.

Strolling toward Isoria, I wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close to me. “You could have joined Isa and Father and me for dinner any time. Or stopped by my quarters. But here she is, Isoria Gildmere, the love of my life.” I sensed the disgust and trepidation roiling through Isoria as I spoke, but no one else would have noticed with the way she melted into me.

Briar crossed her arms, her gaze calculating as it swept over Isoria. “We’ll have to spend some time together, just us females. I can show you my favorite shops in Rainsong.” Her eyes flitted to Lily, like an afterthought. “You can come too. It’ll be splendid! I’ll send a servant with an invitation and more details.”

Before waiting for a response, she flounced away.

Lily groaned. “I think I need some chocolate now.” She grasped Isoria’s arm and tugged her toward the tables where desserts were laid out, weaving around dancing couples and arguing nobles.

Owen shrugged, turning to me once the females were out of earshot. “If your sister wants to spend time with your betrothed, she must have finally accepted you’re getting married.”

Tension coiled my shoulders inward and made my smile feel more strained. Married. It was one thing for the bond to force Isoria and I to pretend, to announce an engagement. It was another to resign myself to such a future, with a death-lover at my side.

Suddenly, the vast ballroom was too small, the press of bodies too close and hot. My lungs were heavy, each breath a strain. Sweat beaded on my forehead. “I—” I cleared my throat. “I, uh, need to speak with my father about a matter. Please excuse me.”

Owen gave me a curious look, some of his stoicism falling away in the quirk of his brow, but I refused to linger and let him notice my growing panic. Though Father was the last person I wanted to talk to, he was on the other side of the ballroom. I needed that illusion of escape, even for a moment.

Because if we didn’t find a way to break this blood bond, Isoria and I would be tethered forever.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Isoria

Dell was near the dessert table, shoveling large forkfuls of pie into his mouth without any grace. He devoured it like he was trying to stab and consume something that was still alive and trying to escape his plate.