Page 12 of These Fractured Bonds

But it didn’t. She didn’t know anything about magic, much less about wards. Adding blood to the equation made her head spin because her mom’s voice whispered in her head that it was the devil’s work. She shook her head at the thought; August was no devil. Magic was not inherently evil. It couldn’t be—not when it could heal as it had done with him. The possibilities were endless.

“Are werewolves real?” she blurted out.

When a popular franchise exploded during her teenage years, Yareli had decidedly been Team Werewolf.

August looked taken aback; her question, apparently, was unexpected. Erick snorted from across the room, which confirmed hehadbeen eavesdropping.

“Err, yes.” August held out his fingers as he listed a couple of mythical creatures. “There are vampires, nymphs, griffins, brownies, sirens… However, they aren’t easy to find. They keep to their own communities, traversing through human cities only when necessary.”

“You missed my favorite group,” Erick called out. “Centaurs! They throw the best raves.”

“Do they have their own islands like the Fae?”

“No,” August answered. “Fae are a special exception. Izmari was born from a treaty long ago between humans and Fae.”

“Can I visit?” she asked.

If the world around her was determined to stay bland and dreary, she would travel to a magical land.

August’s expression shuttered. “Not at this time.”

“Why?”

“Maybe in the future.”

She took another sip, noting his avoidance. Something was amiss in Izmari. She didn’t insist; instead, she sat with the well of information. Magic was real; August was a—hot—Fae. Her life had taken a turn, a change in fate; it was irresistible to her.

“Then it’s a promise,” she said. “Take me there someday.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Someday.”

It was good enough for her. Curiosity got the best of her, and she asked, “So, what exactly do you do in Izmari? Because I find it hard to believe acafe ownerwould get seriously injured.”

Erick sauntered over, plucking her empty mug from her hand. “Yeah, August, whatdoyou do?”

Yareli furrowed her eyebrows; Erick seemed to be enjoying himself almost as if they had talked about this exact possibility. She met August’s gaze. What had he said about her?

He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing glamorous. I’m a general.”

“A general.”

“For my dad’s court.”

Erick butt-in again. “He’s alord’sson, andIwork for him. Horrible hours, by the way. Why do you think I’m here almost every night?”

As she put the pieces together, alarm rang through her. She whipped her head toward August. “Are you fighting every night?”

“No,” he said, his voice tight. “Erick is prone to exaggeration.” He directed his gaze to him. “Isn’t that right?”

“I do have an inclination for dramatics.”

Yareli worried her lip, looking between them. Erick avoided her gaze, and August was much too stiff. Lies. They were lying to her again. A sour taste filled her mouth, sliding down her throat and settling into her ribcage, but concern held her tongue. She couldn’t lose this job.

She pasted a smile on her lips. “So, can I still work here?”

“You can work here for as long as you want,” August responded. “Donna says you do great work.”

“And Donna liking you is the greatest feat,” Erick said. “Even if August was removed from his post here, I bet she would let you keep working here.”