Finding Elora

Chapter 15

They all knew I wouldn't be able to see it through, and they wanted to watch me realize it, too.

The mate bond is a tricky bitch, and I feel nothing short of humiliation as I recall how my execution attempt ended in me frantically trying to heal the bloody neck of a sobbing six-year-old prince.

Eight-year-old me was frantic, and I'll never forget the fiery agony that spread through my bones as I slapped a hand over Kie's neck to try and clog the puncture wounds. Even as a young boy, my animal form was large.

It was easy to wrap my jaws around Kie's neck and give him a little shake.

Queen Gitta still likes to joke about that day. She's the only faerie whom, besides Kie, I've come to care for, but even I can barely resist the urge to rip out her throat when she brings it up.

That restraint doesn't extend to the other faeries, though.

This straggler included.

It's probably a woman hoping to get Kie and me alone. She couldn't have chosen a worse time.

I drag my fingers through my hair when the straggler trips. The stumble is followed by a clatter and a low grunt. The pitch confirms it's a female, and my lips twitch as even Kie pauses and looks over his shoulder.

She's a horrible tracker.

"She's persistent," Kie mumbles. "I'll give her that."

Persistent isn't the word I'd use to describe her. Fucking annoying is more like it.

Kie continues forward, and I follow. We've only been walking for a few hours, maybe four or five, and the magic surrounding us has already grown thin. The shifters and trolls who stalk the woods know the faeries lose strength as it vanishes, and I must remain alert.

We're taking an untraditional path to the portal, hopefully one that'll lead to minimal fighting.

My parents will have ordered the shifters to stand down for the sake of the treaty between the shifters and faeries, but I doubt all will listen. The trolls will be easy to keep down, but I'm not eager to kill my kind.

I flick a branch out of my way, my black gloves capturing my attention. I was looking forward to finally removing them this trip, but I can't take them off until the straggler is gone.

Kie and I will marry a woman for convenience, and we can't risk touching another and igniting a mate bond. We don't have the privilege of finding our mate, and our black gloves symbolize our disinterest.

Most faeries wear flesh-colored ones, but we've found that women are quicker to get the hint when we wear ones that stand out against our skin. Despite how they beg, plead, and plot, we won't touch them.

I put mine back on the second I caught wind of the straggler. Kie did the same, but he doesn't seem nearly as annoyed as I am.

He never is.

Shaking his head, Kie turns back forward and resumes walking. His eyes are better adjusted to the dark, so he leads the path while I listen for danger. My job would be significantly easier if I weren't continually distracted by the straggler.

It's like she's not even trying to be discreet.

She probably thinks she's our mate. Women often get deluded thoughts about us, convincing themselves they're our mate and we just need to touch them to prove it.

Kie finds it fun to play along, pretending he feels something in his soul but is forbidden from confirming. I'm pretty sure he used to tell women the queen would have his mate killed for the sake of the kingdom.