Chained Soul by Eva Chase
29
Talia
Iwish that we could lie amid the sheets and cuddle and continue exploring each other’s bodies for hours more, then welcome my other mates into the bed and see what kind of unity we could start to build between us all there. But there’s still a war looming over us. My interlude with Madoc was only a brief escape, a luxury I start to feel guilty about after we’ve sprawled a little longer in the bed.
“Are you feeling well enough to get up and walk around?” I ask, kissing Madoc’s cheek. “We should see where my mates are with their plans—and they’ll want to speak with you.” Corwin has kept himself at a distance so their discussions didn’t intrude on my rest… and everything else… but I know he’s aware that the Murk man woke up.
Madoc lets out a tense guffaw. “Somehow I don’t think it’s the walking that’s going to be the biggest challenge.” But when he gazes into my eyes, his expression softens. “There is a lot we need to discuss, and not just about you.”
I reach out to my soul-twined mate enough for him to recognize my intent. We’re just finishing up a talk with the other arch-lords, he says through our bond as I ease back into my clothes. We’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes.
Madoc, of course, doesn’t have any shirt at all, so I dig one out of the closet in Whitt’s bedroom, since he’s the best match for the rat shifter’s build. Madoc eyes the silky collared tunic skeptically but accepts it, probably preferring to feel a little over-dressed than to have this conversation with the other men while half-naked.
I feel it when Corwin enters the castle alongside the others, his mood apprehensive and yet hopeful. With equal wariness, Madoc follows me downstairs to the sitting room where my mates have gathered. A nervous twinge races through my own gut.
My mates accepted the role Madoc could play in my life, but how easy is it going to be for him to fit in here among the fae of the Mists overall? In the rush of relief and released emotion, we haven’t even talked about how he’d like the future to look.
Is he going to stay here with us? Could he even go back to so much as visit his people if he wanted to?
How long will it take for Orion to realize what’s happened and send out a call for his no-longer-loyal knight’s death? How will the other arch-lords react to Madoc’s continued presence among us?
What if I’ve saved him only to lose him all over again?
As we step into the sitting room, I force myself to shove those worries to the side. We have to deal with one thing at a time. None of the rest matters if even my mates balk now that the Murk man is standing in front of them again.
Madoc stops just inside the doorway, and I halt alongside him. My other men have dispersed through the room. Whitt is leaning against the arm of a nearby sofa, his eyebrows arching slightly when he catches sight of Madoc’s borrowed shirt. Corwin sits at the other end of that sofa near him. Sylas has been pacing by the window, but he stops and turns toward us at our entrance. And August is standing behind one of the armchairs, his elbows braced against the top of its upholstered frame.
The apprehension I sensed from Corwin permeates the entire room. No one speaks, the four pairs of eyes settling on Madoc, no doubt noting how close we’re standing to each other and the new familiarity in that closeness.
I can’t bear to let the silence stretch for long. I made my choices, I feel what I feel, and now I have to own all of it.
I reach up to touch Madoc’s cheek. When he leans his head toward me, I bob up to give him a soft kiss. His posture goes rigid, but he kisses me back, his hand rising to my shoulder. I remember the day when I went to hug him and how he tensed up then.
It really wasn’t a rejection of me. He must have been as nervous of the reactions my gesture would provoke as he is now.
A flicker of possessive resistance carries through my connection with Corwin, but I can’t say it’s any worse than similar feelings he had toward my Seelie men. And this moment isn’t just about Madoc. It’s about all of them.
I go to Whitt next, trailing my fingers along his neck and seeking his kiss. His lips twitch with one of his sly smiles, and he indulges me with a pleased hum.
From him I step toward Corwin, bending over him on the sofa and brushing my lips to his from above. My soul-twined mate sets a steadying hand on my waist, tender fondness rushing from him into me. You don’t have to prove anything.
I just thought I should set the right tone for this conversation from the start.
When I ease back from him, there’s a faint gleam of amusement in his eyes. I suppose there’s something to be said for that strategy.
Having watched my progression through the room, Sylas moves forward to meet me next to the sofa. As he claims my mouth, he strokes his hand over my hair, his massive presence sheltering me as he always has.
August has straightened up by the chair. His mouth twists with a bittersweet expression before he gives me a quick kiss and wraps me in a hug. The tension in the flex of his muscles around me tells me he’s still not quite over the horror of my own near death.
Madoc has tracked my circuit of the room without comment or complaint, but he still looks a little uncertain as I return to him. I tuck my hand around his, feeling he needs the extra support.
I meant to say something, but before I can decide on what, August strides forward. He stops a few paces from Madoc and clears his throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought the worst of you more than once—I almost stopped you from saving her.” The anguish of that knowledge rings through his voice.
Madoc relaxes just a tad beside me. One corner of his mouth ticks upward. “To be fair, I was standing over her with a knife. I can understand that it didn’t make the most innocent-looking picture.”
“Talia knew you weren’t going to hurt her,” August goes on. “I trust her judgment, and I should have trusted her more about you.”
Sylas nods. “I believe we all should have. It was an immense sacrifice, what you offered—one none of us could have made, as much as we might have wished to. Even with Talia’s efforts to bring you back… I assume you won’t be able to return to your home and your king now.”
Madoc’s jaw tightens. “No. As soon as Orion hears that Talia’s curse has been cured—if he even needs to hear it, if he didn’t sense it through his magic the moment it happened—he’ll realize what happened, and I won’t be remotely welcome there if I want to keep this second chance at staying alive.”
He pauses and then inhales sharply. “I should tell you—the ambush in the fringelands—it was partly my fault. Accidentally, but all the same… I said too much to Orion in an earlier report, enough for him to guess that you’d take the tactic of coming to a portal close to his Heart and to prepare for your arrival. If I’d known—you can be sure I’d never have led Talia into that trap.”
“The rest of us, though…” Whitt says in a dry tone, and holds up his hands when Madoc’s and my eyes jerk to him. “A joke! There’s been distrust and animosity on both sides, and I don’t think it helps anything to keep score. The question is where we go from here.”
He glances at Corwin, who pushes himself to the edge of his seat with increased alertness.
“The ambush did serve us well in one way,” the Unseelie arch-lord says. “You brought us to an area with a portal that leads to your Refuge’s true location. I was able to spot which portal one of our attackers traveled through. Even without your guidance, we could march on the Refuge now. But… we’d stand a better chance of surviving that battle with your guidance. And of saving those of the Murk who’d be willing to survive alongside us and forge some kind of peace.”
“You’re willing to believe that the Murk could live in the Mists with you peacefully?” Madoc asks in a challenging tone.
Corwin stares right back at him, unshaken. “I think you’ve provided ample proof that we’ve let prejudice sour relations between our peoples beyond the point of reason. Unless you don’t believe it’s possible, I’m willing to give a chance to anyone who wants it.”
Madoc’s gaze shifts from him to Sylas. “And what about your other rulers? How are they going to feel about bargaining with the rats?”
“That’s something we’ve already been discussing with them, in light of recent events,” Sylas says. “I won’t lie and say there isn’t hesitation—I’d imagine we’re all going to find adjusting our attitudes difficult, on both sides—but we can find a way through. It’ll be easier if you’ll come and speak with them. Perhaps with Talia by your side as she is now.” He shoots me one of his small, soft smiles that never fails to make my heart flutter.
Madoc stirs on his feet uneasily. I squeeze his hand. “The Heart itself accepted you and decided you were worthy of taking as its own,” I remind him. “They’ll have a hard time arguing with that.”
He looks down at me and lets out a short chuckle. “And even the Heart didn’t dare argue with you.” The affection that gleams in his eyes provokes another flutter.
Then he looks toward the window. “I—there’s a lot I need to think through. I want this conflict settled with as few people dying as possible, and I want a home here for the Murk without persecution or being relegated to the fringes… and I need to be sure all of your people are on board with that idea and not looking for a chance to strike us when we let our guards down. But I can see there’s a chance, and that’s enough to make it worth trying. If I could take a moment—I’d like to go out to the Heart. I think I owe it plenty of gratitude too.”
Sylas inclines his head. “You’ve been through a lot and had your life completely upended. I can’t demand that you know exactly what to make of your new circumstances in an instant.”
For the first time, I feel Madoc totally relax, as if he’s finally letting go of the anticipation of a potential attack. “Thank you,” he says quietly but earnestly.
We all walk with him to the entrance and out into the summer air. Madoc’s pace quickens when the Heart is in sight and then slows as he comes right up to its immense, pulsing glow. He looks up at it with its pure light washing over his body, as if searching for answers in its thrumming energy the way I did once.
I’m not sure if he finds any, but after a few minutes, he closes his eyes. A soft smile curves his lips.
An ache forms in my chest, knowing how much he’s missed this connection and how long it’s been since he last got the chance to truly experience it. Now he’s reveling in it in a way he never had the chance to before.
We’ve all lost a lot—him, me, my mates… Everyone. But we’ve gained things too. We’ve found trust and understanding, friendship and love.
Will it be enough to overcome Orion’s sadistic madness? None of us can really know. But Madoc is right. There’s a chance, and that’s all we need.
Madoc is just stepping back from the bright center of the Heart when a wolf comes sprinting across the field toward us. As the six of us turn to face him, a raven dives through the border haze at the same moment.
Both messengers transform almost simultaneously, the wolf looking to the Sylas and the raven to Corwin, their faces wearing matching expressions of panic. My body tenses before they even speak.
The wolf sputters his words out first. “My lord—the Murk have come. They’re invading the Mists.”
* * *
* * *
What will the war with the Murk cost Talia, and how will she and her men finally get their happily ever after? Find out in Heart of the Mists, the ninth and final book in the Bound to the Fae series. Get Heart of the Mists now!
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