Chapter 9: The Healer's Word

That night I found Alexander in the kitchen with the lights off.

He sat at the long table with a glass of water he had not touched.

"You were afraid today," I said. "At the gate."

"I wasn't."

"I saw your face."

He looked at the glass.

"Braden said 'it woke,'" I said. "He wasn't talking about my temper. What did he mean?"

Alexander was quiet for so long that I thought he would not answer.

"A chosen bond can dull a fated one," he said at last. "It doesn't kill it. Break the chosen bond, and the fated one comes back at full strength."

I sat down across from him.

"A fated one."

"Yes."

"Mine."

"Yes."

"And it's you."

He raised his eyes.

They were grey and steady and tired.

"You knew in the parking lot," he said. "Your wolf did. I watched her recognize me, and I watched you decide not to say it."

"Don't tell me what I decided."

"All right."

"You felt it twenty years ago."

"The second I saw you at the Gathering," Alexander said. "My chest locked, and I forgot how to breathe."

"And you left."

His mouth hardened.

"We settled that on the ridge," he said. "Neither of us is going to say it kindly. I'd rather say nothing."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the only one I have tonight."

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