What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(82)
The privacy of our little bedroom felt like a welcome reprieve I didn’t want to admit, out loud, I’d needed. Not after fighting for the ability to bunk with the other women earlier in the day. Still, as Caelum drew the curtain closed, I dropped down onto one of our bedrolls with a contented sigh.
“You look tired,” Caelum said, moving to the other bedroll on the low, wood platform. I’d gotten used to sleeping wrapped up in his arms, but without the need for body heat, it felt even more intimate to choose to sleep that way.
There was no excuse that we were doing it purely for survival any longer, the only cause for us to sleep entwined being that we wanted to. Having stunned myself with the realization of the depths of my feelings for him as they grew, I didn’t know what to expect from myself in this situation.
I was fairly certain I knew what to expect from Caelum, and that didn’t help matters.
He laid himself out on his bedroll, stretching his arms over his head as I turned to face him. He looked as relaxed as could be, as if there was no place else he could possibly belong but at my side. I wished I could have his self-assurance.
“I am. I want to sleep for a year,” I said with an awkward chuckle, lying on my back on the bedroll. His arm was angled above my head, leaving me to fill the space at his side. As tired as I was, my eyes stayed open to stare at the roof of the cave, feeling the weight of his presence beside me.
My ghosts lingered in the room, riding the waves of grief threatening to crash over me. In the previous nights since the Veil had shattered, my body had been all but broken by the time I closed my eyes for the night, exhaustion dragging me into sleep, accompanied by the sound of Caelum’s voice weaving the words of whatever story he told me.
Tonight felt different, the bone deep exhaustion not quite enough to pull me under on its own. All I could see was Brann’s judgmental stare, his warnings not to trust anyone echoing in my head and feeling as if I’d disappointed him with the choices I’d made after his death.
Caelum hummed thoughtfully, watching me as I twisted my lips. “Did they ever teach you about the Seelie and Unseelie Courts of Faerie?” he asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I turned my attention his way. The sympathy in his gaze was too knowing, too aware of my emotions as they clogged my throat.
Brann’s judgment had been too quick, because how could it ever be wrong to have someone look at me as if I hung the moon from the night sky?
“They didn’t teach us anything about the Fae aside from them being evil and tales of the destruction they caused in the war,” I answered. I’d spent many evenings hunting for any hint of information in Lord Byron’s library, anything forbidden I might find, but there’d been nothing to further my knowledge about the beings, who would now drag me back to Alfheimr if they found me.
“Alfheimr has two main Courts: the Seelie and the Unseelie Fae. Each of those has their own ruler and a ruling system beneath them. The Seelie Court claims the Fae of the Spring and Summer Courts, while the Unseelie has Autumn, Winter, and the Shadow Courts,” he said, rolling onto his side. His fingers trailed over the fabric covering my arm, sending a shiver through me in spite of the barrier between our flesh.
His obsidian eyes glimmered intently, watching my face for any hint of a reaction. “From what I know, the Seelie and Unseelie Courts have been at odds with one another for most of history, but very rarely do they engage in outright battle. They’re more likely to undermine one another through subterfuge and trickery than they are to fight in pointless wars. The curse the witches placed on the Fae has made them value life above all else.”
“The same curse that created the Mate Bonds?” I asked, recalling his story about the way the Fae had their souls splintered to share with another being.
“That one. According to the books, it also rendered the Fae unable to reproduce unless it is with their mate. It stunted the population, and with the Veil separating most of the Fae from their mates…” He shrugged his shoulders as the meaning of the statement hung between us.
“There haven’t been any children?” I asked, unable to imagine how quiet the world must have become with the lack of offspring to run around and terrorize their parents.
“I’m sure there have been some. There are the pairs who had already completed the mate bond before the Veil formed, and those few who were mated to another Fae, but the Fae have centuries of life. They were cursed to only have two children for each pairing, to control the population that could have vastly outnumbered humans.”
I twisted my lip, mulling over the information and what that might mean for my future. I’d never given any thought to having children of my own, outside of the reality that they would be expected of me. If it wasn’t something I had to do for some prospective husband I didn’t want to marry, would I want them myself? “Does that mean none of us can have children outside of our mate bond?” I asked, glancing toward the curtain blocking our door. There were a great many Fae Marked within the protection of the Resistance, their marks peeking out from the fabric of their clothing as they curled up their necks. The humans vastly outnumbered them, and I didn’t doubt their ability to keep the population strong enough to thrive, but to think of wanting a child and being denied one was agonizing.
“Unless the bond is completed, humans are still able to reproduce with other humans,” he said, quirking a brow up at me. “So two Fae Marked could live an entirely human existence together, complete with children and family, so long as they never finished the bond.”