I wanted to hate him right then but I couldn’t. I did feel safe and protected when I was with him. And something deeper still. He’d been my lifeline to the world, even though Azriel’s teachings had dictated I remain detached. Tyler had my back, no matter what. And I knew he’d never disappear in the middle of the night without a word. That was worth more than my anger and frustration. He didn’t deserve an ass-chewing, but he took it—because he knew it would make me feel better.
“There are rules to this binding.” All the fire had left me, and nothing remained but smoldering embers. “I know that much. And I want to know what they are.”
“Okay.” Tyler’s voice, soft and husky, sent chills dancing across my skin. “In my lifetime, I can only choose to form a bond three times. I can choose to create the bond, but you have to choose to break it. Once it is broken, it can never be remade.”
Three times. I wondered if he’d done this before. He was older than Delilah, and she’d been walking the earth for at least a thousand years. Could I perhaps have been lucky number three? “What about the wishes?” I abandoned my humiliation, the anger. We’d had it out and it was time to move on. Besides, Raif was going to kill me if I was late. I slid a dagger into the sheath at my thigh and another into my boot. “How do those work?”
“There’s a moral code, more or less. Even I can’t change some things. You can only wish for something you need, never for something you simply want.” Tyler stretched out his hand, counting points on his fingers as he spoke, “You can’t wish someone dead—or alive. And you can’t wish for wealth. Extra abilities are out of the question as well, like flying or breathing underwater. I can’t alter the paths Fate and nature have chosen for you.”
That little statement earned a snort of derision from me, but Tyler continued, ignoring my sarcasm.
“You are forbidden from wishing away the bonds between others, and I cannot grant you love.” His eyes burned into mine when he said it, and I averted my glance, afraid of what else he might say. “The timeline can’t be altered, but I suppose that falls in line with fate. You could never wish to change the outcome of any event. And I can’t give you what someone else has. But I can swear to do my best to help you if you need it, and vow to protect you until you no longer need my protection.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? God, Ty, how could you do that?”
The look of shame that flashed across his face helped to further cool my fiery emotions. “I wanted to tell you. So many times. But I was afraid you’d bolt if you knew the truth. I didn’t want to be the one to disillusion you.”
“You did, though,” I said. “Just like the rest of them.”
“I know.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“How long?” I asked. “How long have you been bound to me?”
Tyler’s lips hinted at a smile. “Not long after I met you. Almost five years.”
Sonofabitch! For five years, Tyler had been secured to me like a snail on a rock and I didn’t even know it! Was I the most clueless woman on the motherfucking planet—or what?
“How?”
“The binding is a gift,” Tyler said, his voice as smooth as cream. “And it’s not one I give lightly. Please just accept it and leave it at that.”
I worried at the ring on my thumb, twisting it in a full circle. I traced the engraving on its surface, the hulking beast whose form I couldn’t identify. This binding wasn’t the first “gift” he’d insisted I accept. I took the katana from where it was mounted above my mantel and flung it across my back. “I’m going to be late meeting Raif, and, frankly, my brain fucking hurts. Don’t lie to me again. Ever. Please.”
His eyes answered for him, his expression honest and full of emotion. I won’t, it said. I promise.
I left Tyler at my studio—he refused to leave—and met up with Raif shortly after midnight. He tapped the flat of his sword against the sole of his boot. My tardiness was sure to spark a beating. I saved my neck by convincing him to bypass training for another Q and A. Like Levi, he didn’t have any more information or insight. I was ramming my head against a brick wall.
“So much to worry about,” he muttered. “Like I don’t already have enough on my plate.”
I assumed his plate was full of me, but I didn’t ask.
“There’s a Summit to take place in a few days. The timing is inconvenient, but it might work to our advantage. Xander will more than likely ask for help if this situation becomes . . . uncontrollable.”
Summit? Huh. “What kind of Summit? Like a Shaede Summit?” Then Levi’s Hamlet quote sparked in my memory, and I rolled my eyes. I. Am. Such. An. Idiot.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” I asked. “More than Shaedes, more than Oracles and Jinn. The world is crawling with other supernatural creatures, and we’re not so few in our numbers. Are we? We are not alone,” I said in a spooky sci-fi voice.
“Alone?” Raif said. “Whoever filled you with that rot?”
Azriel.
“There is a large and thriving supernatural community. For the most part, we get along just fine,” he continued without waiting for my answer, thank God. “Just like any human political body, we meet, talk, bring our concerns to a public forum. Vote. We’re not uncivilized, you know.”
“I know,” I said like a schoolkid being scolded by her teacher.
“At any rate, this information about your Oracle and the Lyhtans is helpful. Thank you, Darian.”
Raif had become extremely interested in Levi’s theory. He wanted to bring it to Xander’s attention before the Summit. He’d never considered the possibility that simple jealousy had been the motivation behind this political coup. He was actually a little smug about it.
“Our lives are so much easier because of our looks,” he mused. “We do not have to hide in the daylight hours when we are restricted to our humanlike forms. We can pass through society virtually unnoticed, and it allows us to live a life of ease and prosperity. Wouldn’t you agree, Darian?”
“Sure, whatever. It makes sense anyway. But it doesn’t answer my questions. Does Azriel want me dead or not? And did he take Delilah?”
“I think he wants you dead. I don’t agree with the Jinn’s assumption. From a warrior’s standpoint, you are a liability. And liabilities must be disposed of. I do not believe Azriel is harboring any tender feelings.”
“Wow, Raif. You’re a true romantic,” I said. I agreed with Raif, for what it was worth. I believed Azriel wanted me dead. Kill or be killed. But something else stuck in my craw. We appeared so hard to kill, and yet so easy. There were rules that governed our deaths, but we weren’t as invincible as I’d always assumed. Fathers, sons, mothers, daughters, husbands, wives, the maker and the made . . . all of these relationships intertwined to form an intricate web of death. The more you tied yourself to someone, the more they held dominion over your existence. Azriel sat between Xander and me. Either one of us could deliver the blow that would send him into the shadows for eternity. And as for the gray hours . . . I still couldn’t wrap my head around those boundaries.
I put the matter of death’s silly rules on the back burner, and instead shifted my focus to Delilah. She wasn’t a part of this war. Merely an unfortunate victim caught in the middle and used for the gain of either side. I’d used her as my own personal seeing-eye dog, and whoever took her had plans even bigger still. Tyler said she wouldn’t be so easy to break. But I knew better than anyone that there are things in this world worse than dying.