CHAPTER SIX: The Perfect Mate
1390 Words
By morning, Elaria had convinced herself of three things.
First, she was not thinking about Caelum Draven.
Second, the parchment hidden beneath her pillow meant nothing until she understood it.
Third, Adrian Vale deserved a chance.
The first was a lie.
The second was only half true.
The third was the only one she could bear to believe.
So when Adrian sent word asking her to walk with him through the moon garden after breakfast, Elaria accepted.
She chose a soft ivory dress, pinned her hair neatly, and told herself that today would be different. Today, she would not search for silver eyes in every shadow. Today, she would not remember the way Caelum had looked at her as though he could see the thoughts she had not yet admitted to herself.
Today, she would be fair.
Adrian was waiting beneath the archway of climbing roses when she arrived.
He looked like a dream carefully arranged by fate itself.
His dark golden hair caught the morning light. His coat was tailored, his smile gentle, his posture effortlessly noble. In his hands was a small bouquet of white moon lilies tied with a silver ribbon.
“For you,” he said.
Elaria accepted them, touched by the sweetness of the gesture.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as the woman holding them.”
The words were perfect.
Too perfect.
Elaria lowered her gaze, hoping her smile looked natural.
“Do you say that to every woman you court?”
“Only to the one the Goddess gave me.”
There it was again.
The Goddess.
Destiny.
The bond.
Words that should have wrapped around her like warmth, yet somehow pressed against her chest like a hand closing around her breath.
Still, Adrian offered his arm, and Elaria placed her hand upon it.
They walked slowly through the garden.
The morning was beautiful enough to make doubt feel almost sinful. Dew glittered over petals. Bees hummed lazily among the flowers. Somewhere beyond the hedges, children laughed as they chased one another across the courtyard.
Adrian spoke kindly.
He asked about her childhood.
He remembered small details from conversations she barely recalled.
He listened when she answered.
He laughed softly when she teased him.
He was patient.
Attentive.
Gentle.
Everything about him should have made her heart flutter.
Everything about him should have made her thank the Moon Goddess.
Instead, Elaria felt as though she were standing before a beautiful painting, admiring every color, every stroke, every careful detail, yet unable to step into it.
“What are you thinking?” Adrian asked.
She blinked.
“That you are very easy to like.”
His smile deepened. “Only easy to like?”
Elaria froze for half a breath.
Then she laughed lightly. “You are greedy.”
“When it comes to you, perhaps.”
The words warmed her face, but not her heart.
Guilt pinched her.
Adrian stopped beside the fountain at the center of the garden. Water spilled from the hands of a carved moon maiden, falling in thin silver streams into the marble basin below.
He turned to face her.
“I know this is sudden,” he said. “One day we were strangers. The next, everyone expected us to belong to each other.”
Elaria’s fingers tightened around the moon lilies.
“That is how the bond works.”
“It is.” His gaze softened. “But I don’t want you to feel trapped by it.”
Her chest ached.
Of all the things he could have said, that was the kindest.
And somehow, the cruelest.
Because a selfish man would have been easier to reject inside her heart.
A careless man would have made her confusion feel justified.
But Adrian was not careless.
He was not cruel.
He was standing before her with patience in his eyes and flowers in her hands, offering her time when he had every right to expect joy.
“I don’t feel trapped,” she whispered.
Another lie.
This one hurt more.
Adrian studied her.
For a moment, Elaria feared he heard the dishonesty.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Giving her every chance to move away.
She didn’t.
His hand rose, warm fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The gesture was tender.
Sweet.
A gesture from the kind of man girls prayed the Goddess would choose for them.
Elaria held still.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Praying.
Feel something.
Please.
Feel something.
Adrian leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
The garden seemed to quiet around them.
The fountain whispered.
The breeze sighed.
His lips lingered for one gentle heartbeat before he pulled away.
Elaria smiled.
Because she had to.
Because he was watching.
Because the world had given her a perfect mate, and only a fool complained about perfection.
But inside her, nothing moved.
No spark.
No warmth.
No breathless wonder.
Only silence.
Empty, terrible silence.
Adrian’s hand remained near her cheek.
“Elaria?”
She forced herself to look at him.
“Yes?”
His eyes searched hers. “Did I do something wrong?”
The question nearly broke her.
“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “No, Adrian. You didn’t.”
And that was the worst part.
He had done everything right.
Everything.
Yet her soul remained quiet.
Before either of them could say more, footsteps sounded beyond the hedge.
A guard appeared, bowing stiffly.
“Lady Elaria, Alpha Magnus requests your presence in his study.”
Her father?
Unease stirred at once.
“Did he say why?”
“No, my lady.”
Adrian’s expression tightened slightly, but he released her with grace.
“Go. We can continue later.”
Elaria nodded, grateful and ashamed in equal measure.
She left the garden with the moon lilies clutched in her hand like evidence of a love she could not feel.
Her father’s study was located in the western wing, behind heavy oak doors carved with the Evernight crest.
When she entered, Magnus stood by the window with his back to her.
For a moment, he did not turn.
That alone frightened her.
Her father was many things—Alpha, ruler, warrior—but never distant with her.
“You sent for me?” she asked softly.
Magnus turned.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
On his desk lay a familiar book.
Origins of the Sacred Bond.
Elaria’s blood went cold.
Beside it rested the folded parchment she had hidden beneath her pillow.
The room tilted.
She had hidden it.
She knew she had hidden it.
Her father’s gaze lowered to the parchment, then lifted to her face.
“Where did you find this?”
Elaria’s fingers tightened around the flowers until one stem snapped.
“Father…”
His voice remained gentle, but the command beneath it was unmistakable.
“Answer me.”
A thousand thoughts crashed through her mind.
Caelum.
The library.
The missing pages.
The warning written in faded ink.
Trust the bond if you wish.
Trust the Temple if you must.
But never trust the history they gave you.
Elaria swallowed.
“In the library.”
Magnus closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them again, something painful lived there.
Not anger.
Fear.
Her brave, powerful father looked afraid.
That frightened her more than shouting ever could.
“You should not have found it,” he said.
The words struck like thunder.
Elaria stared at him.
Not, What is this?
Not, Who wrote this?
Not, It means nothing.
You should not have found it.
Her heart began to pound.
“So it is true,” she whispered.
Magnus said nothing.
The silence answered for him.
The moon lilies slipped from Elaria’s hand and scattered across the floor.
White petals against dark wood.
Soft things broken too easily.
Her voice trembled.
“What are you hiding from me?”
Her father looked at the flowers.
Then at the parchment.
Then at her.
For the first time in Elaria’s life, Alpha Magnus Evernight did not look like a man who had all the answers.
He looked like a man standing at the edge of a grave he had buried with his own hands.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Your mate bond was never supposed to be awakened.”
Elaria stopped breathing.
- Writer
