Page 119 of Bound to Three Fae Beasts

“Why would we need to blackmail you?” Azriel asked around a mouthful of cookie. She wasn’t quite so pale now.

“It’s to show you that we have no intention of exposing your secret, Azriel Jones,” Thatcher said. “Our lives will be ruined if you expose us. Some peace of mind for the last shape-thief.”

The cookie dropped from Azriel’s hand. I growled, shifting forward and ready to attack. Seb sprang to his feet and Jasper put an arm out, shielding Azriel.

“I’m not—” Azriel started.

“We knew that you’d be coming to the Academy, but we actually suspected the shape-thief was Lord Jasper,” Atira continued, speaking calmly. “You had some outrageous stunts, and with your beast breathing venom like that, we thought you were the most likely suspect. We’ve studied the prophecy for many years to ensure that we had the right date. But we never expected you’d have three mates, let alone three such powerful ones.”

I let out a heavy sigh. I could tell by the way they spoke there was no use denying it. “How did you figure out we are her mates? We need to be aware of our weaknesses so we don’t repeat them.”

“Why would you be so protective of her if you were not?” Thatcher answered swiftly. It sounded like a lie.

Atira patted his hand. “They deserve the truth, love. I have the ability to sense mate-bonds. That was how we figured it out. I felt the bond form between Azriel and Lord Seb first, but it quickly developed between her and Lord Jasper. The bond you have with her was shaky for a while. I wasn’t certain if it would solidify, then it did. And who but a shape-thief could hold three mate bonds?

“It’s time for a history lesson. We don’t have much time, so please do not interrupt. I will be as brief as I can,” Atira continued. She took a deep breath. “Shape-thieves are not an aberration in fae society. They are our natural form. The bind was built long ago to cut us off from the primordial source we originate from. We were one with nature, and the bind was a collar around our neck, limiting us to one form.”

“Why?” Azriel asked.

“To stratify and control our population. To limit one’s potential, and make it easier to make slaves of us,” Thatcher answered.

I shifted uncomfortably. I’d heard some of this before, but it always framed the shape-thieves as the danger.

“Shape-thieves are fluid fae that stayed free of the bind. They are the ones that still have contact with the source,” Atira continued. “And that is why keeping you alive is so important. The bind is failing. The unbinding is happening not from a weakness within the body, but because the courts have overused it for centuries. Each generation has strained it, trying to create a more total hierarchy. Pure bloodlines. More control. The source itself is fraying from the tension, and will kill us all unless it is undone.”

Azriel let out a shaky breath. “And what can I do?”

“The source can only be fixed at the Severance, the place where the first bind was performed. Only a shape-thief can do it, because only a shape-thief can touch the source.”

“Where is the Severance?” Azriel demanded at once. “What do I do when I get there?”

Thatcher shook his head. “We don’t know that yet. What we do know is that you’re our only hope. We will do everything we can to keep you safe. You have enemies throughout the fae world. Gareth isn’t the only one that was hunting you. There are those who will stop at nothing to kill you and end your bloodline forever.”

My hands tightened. Yes, there were. And I knew many of their names, because they were my family. Albert’s face flashed in my mind. It had been easy to kill him to protect Azriel’s secret. Would it be so easy to kill the people I loved?

“You four should get to the great hall now,” Thatcher said. “Before they realize you’re missing. Congratulations on surviving the binding trials.”

Azriel got to her feet, Seb and Jasper with her. They stood so close, they looked like they belonged together. The distance between us felt … well, it felt like distance. I would protect my mate, no matter what it took. And when she turned to me, she held out her hand. I took it, and the warmth of her palm against mine steadied the emotions swirling through me.

Whatever it took.

Chapter 52 - Azriel

Freta didn’t remember anything after drinking the potion. The medics seemed concerned about that, until I told them about her head injury, and then they said her memory would probably clear in time. She looked drained and fragile in the medic bed. I worried that they were actually letting her stay, since all but the worst injuries were merely sent along.

“I’ll be fine, Z,” she assured me as she held my hand. “I’m exhausted, but we all survived. All of us.”

“We did,” I said, giving her as reassuring a smile as I could.

My body felt like my blood had been replaced by lead. I was so heavy and tired I didn’t know how I could face the celebrations that were happening. Apparently, those who received the highest marks were going to get rewards, whatever that meant. None of us had ranked, since we had only killed a few of our fellow students, and then only after they’d attacked us.

“And you have your beast,” Freta added, lighting up as she turned to Silas.

He was quiet and even more exhausted than I was, but he smiled. “Yeah. A big old bear. Roar.” He pantomimed clawing the air.

A nurse came over with a stern expression. “Alright, that’s enough. Let the patient rest.”

If Freta didn’t look so tired, I would have argued. Instead, I stood, hugged her, and left with Silas. He yawned behind his hand and touched my shoulder. “You won’t mind if I skip the celebration? I’m fucking exhausted.”