The Bond Was a Mistake

Elysia

I tell myself it's a misunderstanding.

I tell myself a lot of things in the three steps it takes to reach the door. *It's a cousin. It's business. It's someone who sounds like him.* My wolf says nothing at all. She has gone completely still, and that scares me more than any growl.

I push the door open with my fingertips.

The storeroom is full of old furniture and candle smoke. In the middle of it stands Killian with his hands on a woman's waist. She wears a silk robe the color of cream, and her long black hair falls down her back like spilled ink. She tips her head back and laughs at something he's said, and her eyes, ice-blue and glittering, drift lazily toward the door.

Sabrina Rhaegar. The king's daughter.

I've seen her once, across a courtyard, being helped out of a carriage. I know the face. I know the robe, too, because it matches the crest on the carriages outside.

"...and when my father steps down," Killian is saying, "we'll move into the Alpha house. I'll have the east wing redone for you."

"Not the east wing." She wrinkles her nose. "It faces the stables."

"The west, then. Whatever you want."

My tray hits the floor.

The crack echoes off every wall. Killian's head whips around. Sabrina doesn't move her hands from his chest.

"Elysia," he says.

That's all. Not *this isn't what it looks like. Not let me explain*. He says my name the way you'd say *oh, it's raining.*

"I heard you," I whisper. "I heard what you said."

"Obviously." He lets go of Sabrina's waist and rubs his temple. "You weren't supposed to be here."

"I live here. I work here."

"I told you to stay in your quarters."

"You told me to hide so the king wouldn't see me." My voice shakes. "You told me to hide so *she* wouldn't see me."

Sabrina finally looks at me properly. She takes her time. Her gaze slides down my body, over my hips, my chest, the stain on my apron. She sniffs delicately, and a smile curls her mouth.

"Oh," she says. "*That's* her."

"Sabrina—" Killian starts.

"Don't. I want to look." She steps around him, trailing her fingertips along his arm. "Darling, you told me she was ugly and dull. You didn't say she smelled like absolutely nothing." She wrinkles her nose. "It's actually worse in person. Like standing next to an empty room."

My face burns. My wolf snarls, low and furious.

"Is this what you've been doing, darling?" Sabrina asks him. "Entertaining servants out of pity?"

"It isn't pity," I say.

Both of them turn.

"Is it?" My voice cracks. I push through it anyway. "Killian. Tell me what this is. Tell me what *I* am. You claimed me. You looked me in the face and said I was your mate. You said you chose me."

For a moment, nothing in the room moves. A candle sputters.

"The bond was a mistake," he says.

The words don't register at first. They seem to float past me, strange and far away.

"It was a mistake. A quirk. The Moon Goddess has a sick sense of humor." He sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Look. You must have known it was never going to be public. Did you really think I'd walk you down the aisle in front of the whole pack? A scentless omega, *my mate*? I'd be a laughingstock."

"You said you needed time."

"I said what you needed to hear."

My knees wobble. I grip the door frame.

"Sabrina can give me things you never could," he continues, as though he's explaining a recipe. "Power. Allies. A name that actually matters. You're a sweet girl, Elysia, you really are. But you're also a dead end."

*A dead end.*

I think of the washhouse and the yard. I think of the hug he stiffened against, and the pat on the back, and *that's enough, okay.* I think of every *be patient* and every *I chose you* and every time I swallowed my hurt because I thought that's what love was.

I look at the man who gave me those words, and something in my chest goes very quiet.

For two years I've treated this bond as proof. Proof I was real. Proof I was worth something. And he's been treating it like a stain he could hide under a rug.

It hurts. Gods, it hurts. But underneath the hurt is something else, something clearer than I've ever felt. My wolf lifts her head. She is no longer whining.

She's waiting.

"Okay," I say.

Killian blinks. "What?"

"Okay." I stand up straight. My hands are shaking, so I make them into fists. "I, Elysia Belrose, reject you, Killian Lockwood, as my mate."

His smirk drops.

"Elysia—"

"I reject the bond. I reject you."

The pain hits like a lightning strike.

It rips through my chest and down my spine. It feels like someone has reached inside me and torn out a root. I cry out and fold over, clutching my ribs. Killian lets out a strangled sound across the room and staggers into a stack of crates. Sabrina jumps back with a squeal.

Then it's over. A hollow quiet settles inside me where something used to hum.

I lift my head. Killian is staring at me, gasping, his amber eyes wide.

I've never seen him afraid. It's gone before I can enjoy it.

"You *stupid*—" He crosses the room in three strides and grabs my arm. "Take it back."

"No."

"Take it *back*!"

"I said no."

He slams me against the wall. My head cracks off the stone and stars burst across my vision. His forearm presses against my throat.

"Do you know what you've done? Do you know what people will say?"

"Let go of me."

"Take it back and I'll forget this ever happened."

"You can't forget what you did."

His hand cracks across my face.

My lip splits. I taste copper. My wolf howls, a shrill, helpless sound, but I'm still on my feet and I'm still glaring at him. I don't know where it comes from.

"Go on," I rasp. "Hit me again. It doesn't change anything."

He does.

I slide down the wall. The world tilts. Somewhere above me, Sabrina clicks her tongue.

"That's enough, Killian. You'll leave marks." She crouches beside me, her robe pooling on the floor, and tilts my chin up with two fingers. Her eyes are cool and bright. "Listen carefully. If you tell anyone what you saw tonight, the king will believe his daughter over an ugly scentless servant. I wouldn't even have to try." She pats my cheek, lightly, almost kindly. "So be a good girl and go cry somewhere quiet."

She stands and smooths her robe.

I stagger up, using the wall for balance. Nobody stops me. Nobody follows. I stumble down the corridor with blood dripping off my chin, my vision swimming, my ribs on fire.

*Mira*, I think. *I need Mira.*

***

I don't reach her.

Two guards catch me at the end of the hall. They're warriors I've served tea to in the mornings. They don't look at my face.

"Council wants you," one says.

"I need to—"

"Council. Now."

They take me by the arms. My feet barely touch the floor.