Beats.
I look back at the witch, still unable to process what is happening. “You are saying that is?—”
“His heart. He paid me. I took it, and sent it here for keeping.”
I look back.
Vann’s heart.
It hovers, caught in a web of light.
When I step completely inside the room, it sings.
The sound is not something I hear with my ears but something that moves through my bones, the Fuegorra in my chest humming in response. A call. A tether.
The stone embedded in my chest starts to glow brilliantly.
No. My eyes burn and I let out a sob.
The pull is undeniable. Because I know, I feel it.
I am his mate.
The truth slams into me, and the breath is ripped from my lungs. My knees give way, and I grip the nearest rock for balance. My vision blurs with unshed tears.
He had never told me about this. Not only had he hid this, he’d lied to me. He told me that he was mated. That we could never be.
“Did—”
I break off.
“Did he know that the other woman wasn’t his mate?” I ask.
The old woman nods.
“How do you?—”
Her hand reaches out and touches mine, and I am transported toa distant time. I watch the memory from her eyes, seeing Vann. I hear him insist on her services.
Watch her warn him, only for him to promise that he would never want another.
When the memory fades, my cheeks are wet.
The sting of not being chosen hurts. It burns and aches, but even then, I might be able to forgive it.
The lie, after all the trust we’d shared. After every secret I’d told him?
That… I cannot forgive.
The thought hits me as I stare at his heart, glowing and perfect, suspended in the air like a mockery.
I can’t help but review each moment I poured out my soul. Did he know we were mates all along? He let me cry while I told him about children, and a future, and a happy, quiet life.
He listened, as if he had not been the one to rip those dreams away.
But it doesn’t stop there.
More images push into my mind, relentless, cruel.