Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians 0.50)

She sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, I was chosen a while back to bond—before the battle in the desert. But . . .” She trails off, embarrassment taking over her soft features. “But after . . . it never happened. And believe me, we tried many times.” She laughs, her voice hollow. “The Council ordered me to see a midwife, and she discovered that there is something wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you, Lunia.” I grasp her hand tighter. “Maybe it just takes longer for some couples.” Couples is a strange way to put how our kind mates. The Council places two Kythan of the same race together, and Fadil performs a spell to bond. It’s for life. We don’t live as the humans do once this happens—as husband and wife. Rather, it’s a simple arrangement to create more Kythan.

Since we can live for hundreds of years, if Kythan were to conceive every time we mated, our population would overrun the humans’, the world. Instead, after our birth, the sorcerer casts an enchantment that prevents us from becoming pregnant. A blessing where Phoenix is concerned. And only once the enchantment is removed during the bonding can we bear children. And only the number the Council grants us.

“It’s all right,” Lunia says, brushing a stray tear from her pale cheek. “I really never wanted to be a mother anyway.”

My heart aches for her. Her words are false. Though she’s one of the strongest guardians I know, Lunia’s always held a secret hope that she’d be chosen to bond. That she could have children of her own. I now understand why she’s formed such a close tie with little Delphus. He’s the closest thing to a child she will ever have.

“You would have made a wonderful mother,” I tell her. Fresh tears brim her vibrant blue eyes. “What about a plea? Could you request a new mate? In a special case like this, maybe the Council will overrule the bonding and place you with another Shythe.” I bite my lip, knowing it’s never been done before. “It may be he’s unable, not you.”

She shakes her head. “You know as well as I do bonding is for life. The Council will simply choose another couple to take our procreation spot.” It’s true. Especially with Octavian’s war taking priority, they won’t waste any of their time on slave matters.

“Come on,” I say, pulling her up beside me. “I know what you need.”

I walk to her small eating area and dig through her shelves. Finding what I’m searching for, I pull out the bottle of Roman liquor we purchased from the Emporium during Antonius’s first festival. I hold it above my head, as if all our solutions lie at the bottom of this bottle.

“But we’re saving that for a special occasion,” she protests.

“This is a special occasion. You’re a taken woman.” I wink. “And I can’t believe you hid this from me until now.”

A rose hue colors her cheeks. “I didn’t want to tell anyone who I’m bonded to.”

Popping the cork, I eye her. “I wasn’t going to ask . . .”

“And you wouldn’t. Thank you.” She smiles.

“But . . .?”

Groaning, she plops down on the stool at the table. “Seb.”

I halt pouring the liquor into the glass. “Well, he’s . . . I mean.”

Her laugh tickles my insides. It’s her true laugh, and I’m so relieved to hear it. “Don’t even try to make it all right. He’s ridiculous. Of all the Shythe I could have been bonded to, he’s the most clumsy, awkward, irritating—”

“You adore him.”

She sighs. “I absolutely do.”

We drink until the bottle of Roman liquor is half empty. The moon has risen into the sky, casting its pale glow over the glass top harbor. Our laughter tumbles freely, and my sides hurt. Attempting to pour another glass for each of us, I spill the amber liquid on the floor.

My head is fuzzy and my thoughts cloudy, but Xarion still manages to break through the hazy fog wrapping my brain. Regardless, I’m enjoying the break from my own troubles as the alcohol courses through my veins, making everything feel distant.

And even though Lunia is shattered over not being able to have children, the way she speaks of Seb, I know she is well loved. At least she is bonded to someone who will worship her and care for her, even if it remains only the two of them for the rest of their existence.

I thank the gods for this small mercy.

When I try and fail to pour the liquor again, Lunia laughs and takes the bottle from my hands. “No more for you.”

Lying back against t

he couch, I accept this. “I believe you’re right.” I laugh. “I don’t think I can stumble home at this point.”

“Stay here,” she says as her eyelids begin to droop. “We’ll go together to the palace in the morning.”

“All right.” A smile stretches my face as Lunia’s breathing deepens, her features softening with sleep.

I stand slowly, my hand inching along the rough wall to steady me, and grab the throw blanket from the back of her couch. Draping it over her curled up body, I worry she’ll be sore come morning, but don’t want to chance waking her in order to coax her into a more comfortable position.