ELRETH

Elreth ignored the Anima who sat silently glaring, or whispered to their companions.

Instead she nervously scanned the crowd for Aaryn, knowing he would have hidden himself. "Come forward, Aaryn and take your seat at the table of power!" she called across the market, still looking for him. Then she frowned. "Is Aaryn here?"

"He's here!" came a call from the back corner and everyone turned.

She saw him step forward from behind a tall line of the disformed who'd stood at the back, his broad shoulders crawling towards his ears. He hated the attention of large groups—mostly because they were usually a good chunk of them that wanted to set him down or were suspicious. One of the males in the group who was still applauding loudly, pushed him forward—several more around him clapping and cheering—but he took one stumbling step, then stopped.

Elreth's pulse pounded even harder as he stared at her without moving while she beckoned him forward, rolling her eyes at his shyness.

But he wasn't smiling. He fixed his icy-blue eyes on her and his jaw went tight, his brow furrowed. Then he gave the sign, 'I'm sorry,' and Elreth's stomach dropped to her toes.

No. Surely he wouldn't—

"Do you accept your role as appointed by the Queen, Aaryn?" Huncer called, her voice echoing across the market.

"I beg mercy from the Queen, and from the people. I… I do not," he said.

The gasp that erupted from the crowd was probably heard to the boundaries of the WildWood.

With a tortured look at Elreth, Aaryn turned on his heel and pushed through the crowd, fleeing the stunned silence he left behind—and the Queen left gaping at her subjects who had just seen her rejected by one of the very people she championed.

*****

AARYN

He was a coward.

He fled like a mouse that feared the shadow overhead, cursing again that he wasn't able to shift into beast form as most Anima would, to cover the most ground in the shortest time. He pushed through the crowd, muttering apologies to the stunned Anima shoved out of his way—and those who weren't stunned, but celebrating, because they'd never wanted him in that kind of position to begin with. He pushed past all the bodies and the looks from his brothers and sisters, the Outsiders, the other disformed, whose mouths were open and their eyes pained—or angry.

Head down and breathing through his teeth, he ignored all of them, fixing his eyes on the exit trail. And as soon as he broke free from the bodies—as soon as questions began to be called behind him—he ran, pounding down the trail, his legs flying, arms pumping, breath tearing in his throat.

He'd rejected her.

He'd embarrassed her.

He'd just taken a step that would never be forgotten—at cost to her.

To his knowledge, only two other Anima had ever rejected the call of a Cohort, and they were spoken of to this day, despite having lived dozens of generations before.

But even worse than that… she'd asked him.

Despite the prohibition from unmated Rulers to mate their cohorts, she'd asked him.

Why had he let himself dream?

Why had he allowed that conversation with the Queen to spark more hope?

She had just showed herself willing to never be able to touch him, to never join their bodies, to never seek the True Mate's call.

And she'd beamed about it.

He knew her heart like he knew his own. She'd thought he would be excited. She'd thought she was giving him a gift. She'd thought… it didn't matter what she'd thought. She had drawn a line clear to every Anima present, and there were no more questions.

His heart throbbed in his chest, tearing in two as the truth settled into his bones.

She didn't want him.

Ever.

A noise broke in his throat that he wasn't sure he'd ever made before. A call, a cry to the Creator for strength, for something to ease the ache in his chest that stopped his breath.

A mile from the Tree City he stumbled to a halt, beginning to see stars because he couldn't get enough air. His body refused to work. His mind could do nothing but scream.

She didn't want him. Ever.

She wouldn't want him. Ever.

And she was happy about it.

*****

He'd kept walking, though he had no idea where he was. Somewhere high above the Tree City. He could see the lights in the distance.

He'd have to go to the Weeping Tree eventually. He didn't have any choice. He knew that's where she'd go when, hours from now, she was finally free to leave the gathering. And he knew he couldn't avoid speaking with her any longer. He'd just created a serious problem for her—not to mention a weakness in the eyes of her people.

She would be furious.

But how could he make her understand?

He sank to the ground with his back to a tree—just like he'd found her a day earlier, under the weeping tree, fragile about beating her father.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he clawed his hands into his hair and pleaded with the Creator to find a way that he could avoid…

But no.

There was no way around it. It was the only way she would be saved from the sense of utter betrayal.

He had to admit how he felt.

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