I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm myself for what I had to ask next. I had to be calm because when I asked it, Tam just might shock the hell out of me with a straight answer for once, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. “I heard that it also makes us magically mated, married even.”

Tam had been married once before in the normal way to a Mal’Salin duchess, making him a Mal’Salin duke. His wife’s unsolved murder didn’t change his aristocratic status, even after he left the goblin court. Somehow I didn’t think the goblin royal family would be amused at one of their own being married—in any way, shape, or form—to an elf.

Tam stood in silence; he didn’t even blink. I think I was witnessing Tam Nathrach caught completely off guard. It was a first.

“Some segments of goblin society consider it binding,” he finally said.

“Binding as in close together, or as in legally binding?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Tam’s dark eyes were unreadable. “Yes, as in both answers are correct.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

Tam spoke quickly, but firmly. “But for it to be legally binding, both parties must be in agreement that the bond should be established. Such ceremonies are planned with great care.”

My mouth was hanging open; I managed to get it closed.

Then it dropped open again and words made it out. “It is like a wedding.” My voice sounded small.

“There are similarities,” Tam admitted reluctantly.

I was totally speechless. Tam had never heard me at a loss for words. Today was just chock full of firsts. I felt a giggle bubbling up. I was probably two skips and a jump away from hysteria.

“I have never heard of an accidental umi’atsu bonding,” Tam assured me.

My voice was lined with steel. “Was it an accident?”

“You know it was.”

“Tam, I’m not sure of anything right now.”

“Our bond took hold in that alley,” he said. “What we did under the embassy probably completed the connection. The first was accidental; the second was necessary.”

I remembered the alley all too well. Tam was trying to keep me from being captured by the Khrynsani; he killed one of their shamans with a death curse in Old Goblin. It was the blackest of black magic and Tam wielded it with a master’s touch. The Saghred had responded to Tam—and so had I. We couldn’t have stopped what had happened between us. Under the elven embassy, we had no choice. It had taken nearly all the power both of us had to free those spellsingers and survive, and we’d only been able to do it together.

I knew Tam was a dark mage, and I knew what being a dark mage meant. Part of me just refused to dwell on Tam having ever done any of those things. If you were a mage, you’d been born with magic as a part of you. Through study and hard work, that magic grew and developed into specific talent. I was a seeker, a mediocre one until the Saghred latched on to me. I’d been resisting its power ever since. A dark mage wouldn’t have resisted. For them, power was an addiction, and the more power the mage got, the more they wanted—and the more they were willing to do to get it. Like use objects of power that only asked for a little something in return. Like the Saghred and its soul collection. Feed the rock; get the power. Supernatural creatures offered the same temptations, but demanded different payment.

Some still wanted sacrifices or suffering, others wanted freedom from all restraint, and some, like demons, wanted entry into our world. If you gave them what they wanted, they gave you more power; and if the monster you summoned took a liking to you, they might even teach you a thing or two—things that no mortal had any business knowing.

I’d always told myself that whatever Tam had done while in the goblin court, he’d done it to survive. Maybe. But no one had forced him to be the goblin queen’s magical enforcer. He’d wanted the job and he’d gone after it; and by doing whatever he had to do, he’d stayed at his queen’s right hand for five years. In constantly shifting goblin court politics, five years was an eternity.

When Tam left the goblin court, he’d gotten help for his addiction. He blamed his ambition for his wife’s murder. Call it what you will—intervention, black-magic rehab—Tam had fought his way back from the brink. I wasn’t going to be the cause of his relapse.

“How do we get rid of it?” I asked him point-blank.

Tam looked genuinely puzzled. “Get rid of it?”

“Yes, rid. We’re not the only ones bonded,” I reminded him, keeping my voice as level as it was likely to get anytime soon. “The Saghred’s the glue. You’re a dark mage and all-around magical badass. I’m not. I’m just Raine Benares, a good seeker, a not-so-good sorceress. You say you didn’t do it, and I sure as hell couldn’t do it, so that leaves the rock.”

“I’ve never heard of an umi’atsu bond being successfully broken,” Tam told me.

I didn’t move. “It can’t be done?”

Tam exhaled slowly. “I said successfully broken. It’s only been done a few times that I’m aware of.” He hesitated. “The powers of neither mage survived the process—and in some instances, neither did the mages. Their powers were so entwined that they had literally become a part of each other—they shared their magic like a vital organ.”

I felt a sudden need to sit down.

“You can’t cut those in half,” I dimly heard myself say.

“No, you can’t.”

“But Sarad Nukpana implied it was a progressive bond.”

Tam went utterly still. “You spoke with him?” His dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “He took you inside the Saghred again?”

“No one took me anywhere.” I stopped. “Wait, if you’re in my head, why didn’t you know about my dream?”

“Our bond is still new, so I only know your conscious thoughts, and then only those caused by a strong emotion such as fear. I cannot see into your dreams.”

“So anything I think while asleep or unconscious is still private.”

“Correct.”

That was a relief. I’d rather Tam not know my dreams. Especially since he had starred in some of them before.

I hit the high points of what had happened when I’d lost consciousness after using the Saghred, and the dream conversation with my father. Though with Nukpana in attendance, it qualified more as a nightmare. Then I told him about the Reaper.

“Sarad Nukpana did not lie to you,” Tam said. “An umi’atsu bond is progressive. But since the Saghred’s involved, that progression appears to be moving at a faster rate.”

It was only a spark of hope, but I grabbed it. “So in theory, we could still be separated.”

“A theory I do not want to put to the test—and considering your own situation, neither do you.” His expression darkened. “Especially now.”

“Meaning what?”

“We both have enemies—magically powerful enemies. If severing the bond didn’t kill us, they would. I’ve been accumulating enemies since my time in the goblin court. Many of them would relish the opportunity to have me magically defenseless. I’d be dead within a week.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “With my popularity at an all-time low, I’d be dead within the hour. And Carnades would be at the front of the line.”

“No, Raine,” Tam said solemnly. “That Reaper would be at the front of the line.”

His words chilled me. “I’ve never had a Reaper anywhere near me before, but I knew exactly what it was—and what it was going to do.”

“The Saghred has protected itself for centuries, probably millennia. It knew.”

“And it told me what I had to do,” I said, voice tight. “If it hadn’t told me how . . . Or if I hadn’t been able to understand . . .”

“But it did tell you, and you knew what to do.”

I slowly exhaled. “And I’m here, alive.” I looked at Tam for a few silent moments. “I know it’ll be back. When it comes, it’ll bring more with it—and I have no idea how I’m going to survive when that happens.”

“You’ll survive because you won’t be alone. I want you to stay here with me.”

“I won’t endanger—”

He almost smiled. “Raine, endangered is my natural state. I wouldn’t know how to act if at least one person wasn’t trying to kill me.”

“What about Talon?”

“I can protect my son.”

I shook my head. “I can’t put anyone else—”

Tam was unyielding. “I have guest rooms, and I swear on what honor I may still possess that I will not take advantage of the situation.”

Instead of an argument, I gave him a tired smile. “Tam, you have more honor than most of the mages on this island put together.”

His dark eyes widened. I’d surprised him with that. Another first.

I pressed on. “I appreciate the offer; but if certain people found out that I was staying here with you, the two of us would have more trouble than we already do—if that’s even possible.”

Tam started to protest, but I held up a restraining hand. “You aren’t the only one I’ve said ‘no’ to today. Uncle Ryn wanted me to stay with him. And Mychael wants me to move back into the citadel. I turned both of them down.”

“Both were generous offers.” Smooth muscles worked in Tam’s jaw. “You should have accepted Mychael’s.” He said I should have accepted it; he didn’t say he’d have liked it. He wouldn’t have, and I didn’t need an umi’atsu bond to tell me why.

There was tension growing between Tam and Mychael, and the source, cause, and reason for that tension was me. Tam wanted me. Mychael wanted to protect me—and maybe more. My relationship with Tam, if you could call it that, had yet to progress much beyond the teasing and lust stage. However since Mychael stepped into the picture a few weeks ago, Tam’s teasing had taken a turn toward the serious. There had almost been a confrontation, but I’d defused it by leaving. Two men couldn’t exactly fight over a prize if the prize refused to stay around to be fought over. Tam was in enough trouble, and Mychael had too much on his plate. I wasn’t going to add to either one.