“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” […] “What decides it? Who decides it? You said your mother and father were wrong for each other, Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if” — I jerked my chin towards the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”
“A mating bond can be rejected.” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is a choice. And sometimes, yes— the bond picks poorly. Sometimes the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At it’s basest level, It’s perhaps only that.”


















