THE SIGMA'S MATE

CHAPTER 16 -PRICE OF MAGIC

I will be damned if I'll accept that kind of belittlement from a man, even my own mate. As if I am so desperate for his affection, for his attention… and perhaps I am. Perhaps I have already found myself so deeply in love with the idea of us, of the surety that there is no other person made especially for me and that he belongs solely to me that I cannot fathom a world where we don't work out in the end. But he doesn't need to know that. He doesn't need to know that everytime he says that he won't have me, he crushes more and more of my wolf's spirit. She is so very withdrawn already. Barely conscious in my mind most times, yet she always seems to feel strongest when he is near. Always appears to awaken with hope. I don't know who is more disappointed. Little by little he is destroying everything I thought I knew about the bond. How can it be so precious and valued when he can so easily toss his emotions aside and renounce his desire. How powerful can the blessing between souls be if he can simply turn a cheek without dying on the inside. Never were we as a species promised by our Goddess that our twin soul, the missing piece would be a perfect match. Never were we promised no misgivings or trails. Only that we would grow to see the wisdom in the selection and learn to find perfection in our partners. It is a religious crime to deny your mate. It is frowned upon as much as murder or treason. Unlike Belavina who had been given two soul binding mates, most of us do not have a second option if the first rejects you.

I give him what I hope is a charming smile and to accompany it, a flick of my wrist in dismissal of his destructive words.

"Yes yes, you won't have me. I am past that. You were my first choice but not my last. There are plenty of fish in the sea, dear Sigma. Or should I say, wolves in the pack." I say in a condescending manner.

"Like Jayden?" He sneers.

I arch a dark brow in surprise at the emotion behind those two words, however I dare not let myself hope any longer, "Maybe, he is mateless after all." I answer. "It's actually quite perfect, wouldn't you say?"

I leave out that we actually have no romantic relationship between us at all. I've never even thought of Jayden in the ways I've thought and fantasized about Alaric. About his hands and lips and body. That's another thing I'm coming to understand about this Goddess given gift. It's all purely lust. Lust that turns into infatuation and then obsession. It's all very primal - an instinctual reaction that contains few deeply felt emotions such as trust and love. However, at the same time, I could hardly entertain the thought of Alaric no longer being around without an ache developing in my chest. Alaric smiles, lifting his magical black mask backup and placing it over his gorgeous features. I almost tell him to stop but the elevator doors open and he steps out.

"There is something about him…" Alaric begins his warning but a bubble of laughter interrupts him. He scowls.

I cover my mouth with my hand as I fight to control my outburst, "Well you don't have to worry about him. You're not the one sleeping with him." I smirk.

"And you are?" He asks more sharply than I believe he would have wanted his tone to sound. He would want to sound indifferent, unaffected, but that male beast roaming beneath his skin would dislike the idea strongly.

I shrug, avoiding the question, "I waited all this time for my mate, only to be disappointed. I see no reason why I should save myself any longer."

He doesn't respond to that. I don't have to shift my gaze to know that he is burning holes into the sides of my head. The silence becomes uncomfortable as he leads us to a set of well guarded doors. When he lifts his hand to signal the guards to open, I catch sight of his arms. Dark veins stand in contrast to his fleshy skin. A battle evidently rages inside of him. I smile victoriously. A battle I hope the human side loses. However, I won't hold my breath. The guards open the double doors for us to stroll through. The healers' rooms are vastly different here from the ones at the palace. Instead of clean, white walls and sterilized surfaces, the room looks like the inside of a greenhouse. Hanging flowers bloom overhead by an impressive skylight and green leafy vines scale the walls. There are plants everywhere - all different sizes, shapes and colours. There is one large room which appears to connect to another sealed off area that you can only just see through the frosted glass doors. A strange woman approaches us draped in the most peculiar dress I've ever seen. The material is almost see-through, a mirror of water shimmering along the length of her body. She wears a warm smile - the smile of a healer. Someone willing to do anything to help another person, no matter what the cost. She bows at the waist when she meets me.

"Princess Lyra, what an absolute pleasure." She praises enthusiastically, "The royal family is somewhat of a fascination for me as I am sure your family is for most of the population." She says with a bit of a laugh in her voice.

"Yes well, it is a pleasure to meet you as well." I say, eyeing her curiously.

Alaric is as serious and humorless as usual, "Zelmaria," He calls for her attention, "Lyra is injured and in need of your services."

My spine stiffens when I realise what she is. Another witch. Alaric seems to have an abundance of them in his fancy building. I eye her with renewal, distrust engraved into my very bones after her like deprived me of my parents. But it is not this witch's fault. Nor is it Mikayla's. However, I cannot help my instant dislike of their species.

Her brows shoot up, "Of course," Zelmaria says, indicating that I should sit on one of the five hospital beds in the main room. "What happened?" She inquires after I've struggled to hoist myself up. My feet dangle over the side of the mossy green bedding as she lifts the shirt to expose the discolored skin beneath.

"An unfortunate accident."

"Someone tried to kill me."

Alaric and I speak at the same time. I shoot him a gloomy frown. An unfortunate accident indeed.

Zelmaria looks positively confused. "Well, whatever it is, you've come to the right place." She beams, stretching her hands out for me to take.

"I'll give you a moment." Alaric says, turning on his heel.

I stare at his broad back for a few seconds longer than I should have before fixing my gaze on the witch. I give her a small hesitant smile before placing my hands gently in hers. Her grip is light at first until she starts speaking the language of the witches. Muttering words that are unrecognizable and forgettable. No matter how hard you try, you cannot remember the words spoken. It's an impossibility for anyone not of witch blood. I feel the prickly sensation travel through my arms and into my chest, relieving the pain that it finds there. I watch in growing concern as her lips lose their colour and her skin turns a grayish parlor. When she is finished, her eyes slide open. The blues of her eyes have faded as well. It appears as if the life has simply drained out of her.

"You don't look so good." I say, hoping that she doesn't take offense.

"There is always a price to magic." She explains.

"A price?" I ask bewildered.

"We don't like to discuss it, so you must promise that you won't say anything." She says, watching me expectedly, "I am quite serious."

"Alright, I swear it."

I eye her suspicious. She only just met me, why would she trust a secret to me when it is commonly known how witches destroyed my family. It is also commonly known that the royals hate witches and that none are welcome in the palace.

Zelmaria leans forward, stealing my full regard. "There are different taxes on different covens. Some age quickly, growing grey and wrinkled even while they continue to live for thousands of years. Others become shells of who they used to be, deprived of warmth to such a degree that they no longer feel such things as love or friendship or compassion. They become known as the darklings. Witches without souls. Then there are others like me who lose days and months and years. I will die still young and in the midst of life."

"That's horrible! Why do you continue to use magic then?" I ask her, barely able to keep my astonishment off my features.

"It is who I am and it is a price that I must pay. Who would be here to heal you if I no longer wished to share my magic with others."

Afterwards, I thank her for her sacrifice. When I rejoin Alaric, I find my head swimming with thoughts of the witches that killed my parents and the witches that waged a civil war against the Authority. Are they darklings? Is it simply that magic has drained all emotion from their bones? I have never liked witches. I have never trusted them either, finding that they seem cunning and deceptive. But if what Zelmaria says is true then she is one of the most selfless people I have ever met.