Chercher (verb) to look for, to seek

Imogen's chambers were in the darkest recesses of the castle, far below ground, where there was easy access to the salt caverns.

This was where I found her when I came to call, soaking her ancient body in the salt pools. The only thing visible amongst the steam lifting off the surface was her wispy silver hair and jade green eyes.

"I've seen your journey in the waters," she said in her paper thin voice, barely audible over the echo of my boots on the stone floor. "It seems you found more than your sanguine partner in the capital, didn't you, boy?"

She laughed, and the sound was like the croaking of a toad.

I crouched beside the pool, as I often did when seeking her council, and tossed a handful of shells into the murky depths. An offering to the only known Witch of the Tide still living.

Her bony hand snatched them up, inspecting them carefully before setting them on the ledge behind her.

"What can I help you with, young master?"

I hesitated, dropping my chin to my chest, as thoughts of Claire filled my mind. From the first moment I saw her across the ballroom to the moment I left her at camp and every moment in between.

She was never far from my thoughts, and that was the problem. I needed my life to return to how it was before.

I glanced up at Imogen, who was waiting for my answer with her hands folded under her chin. Her thin lips pulled into the suggestion of a smile. I had the sneaking suspicion the old witch already knew what I'd come to ask.

"Is there a way to break a mate bond?"

Steam curled off the pool. Water dripped from the damp stone overhead onto my shoulder. I didn't waiver, holding the witch's gaze, waiting for an answer.

"Your mate is determined by the gods," Imogen replied. "The only way to break it, is to break them."

Breaking a god was a ludicrous suggestion. My whole purpose in life was to preserve the balance of magickal power on earth, not destroy the source of it. Frustration had my fists curling into tight balls.

"There has to be another way," I demanded. "Something. Anything."

Imogen didn't blink at my reaction. "When you were made, your ancestors saw fit to give you certain limitations to check your power. It's why the sun drains your strength, why you must feast on only blood, and why you become consumed under the pull of a mate."

I waved her explanation away. "Yes, I know all this, Imogen. But there has to be a way to break this bond. I cannot be tied to Claire. This is not the right time for me to be...consumed."

The witch turned her attention to the many seashells stacked around her pool, and selected one. Rolling the tiny shell between her fingers and letting the torch light catch in the irridescent sheen of its surface.

It reminded me of the way Claire's hair shone under the light of the moon.

The witch held it out for me to take, and reluctantly, I allowed her to place it in my palm. The shell was curled into a narrow cone, like a tusk, and was quite beautiful.

"There's never a right time to fall in love," Imogen said softly, almost smiling again.

Love. What a ridiculous notion.

I curled my fist around the shell, letting the sharp edge bite into my skin. "This isn't love," I gritted out. "It's cosmic punishment to keep me from being the man I need to be."

As my temper ebbed and flowed, Imogen remained ever the same. Her tone mild and unaffected as she sat soaking in shoulder-deep water. It annoyed me that I could be so affected by her words, yet she was not.

"And you know better than the moon goddess? Is that it?" she asked. "Or the god of the underworld?"

"I didn't come here for a lecture," I said, rising to my feet, intent on throwing the shell back into the murky depths of the salt pool. But, for whatever reason, I kept it curled in my hand. "I came here for a spell or a sacred ritual to break her hold on me."

She offered me one of her rare smiles that showed off her row of chipped yellow teeth. "Have you ever considered that the hold you have over her is just as strong?"

Impossible. It was impossible.

If she felt the way I did, we'd already be properly mated, and my life would truly be over. There was no doubt in my mind. Especially after our meeting earlier and the way she'd come alive when I'd touched her.

But I was able to compartmentalize that tryst because she'd been curious. That's all. She didn't want me; just wanted to feel the pleasure she'd never felt before.

In fact, it was her hatred of me that had me walking on eggshells around her. Claire blamed me for her father's death and for her subsequent upbringing at the Nightfall Convent, where she was taught heinous things about herself and the world.

"I'm sorry you wasted a handful of good seashells to hear nothing can be done," Imogen said, "but that's the answer you're going to get."

Desperation had me crouching down beside the pool again. I needed some advice. "Imogen, please. I've protected you all these years and have never asked for anything in return."

She let out another toad-like croak of laughter, and, behind the tendrils of steam, I saw something in her eyes had shifted. I'd provoked her anger.

"You think my life matters that much to me?"

As if I needed to feel guilty on top of everything else I was feeling. I tried to placate her by offering an apology. "That's not what I meant."

She pushed herself off the ledge and swam closer to where I sat crouched beside the pool, looking less human and more like a creature of the deep. With her jade green eyes narrowed on me, I was slightly nervous she might cast a spell and turn me into one of her seashells.

"My people are gone," Imogen said, her bony hand gripping my boot. The look on her wrinkled face was pained. "My goddess is in hiding. I sit here in these waters, waiting for a sign that might never come. So excuse me if I find your request to absolve yourself of fifty or so years of matrimony annoying."

I understood that she might find my request annoying, but that's because she'd never been fated to anyone before. If she had, perhaps she'd have more sympathy for my plight.

"Those fifty years might seem trivial to you, but if I leave and return to the capital with Claire, the humans I've made alliances with will all be dead upon my return, and who knows who will have replaced them."

I opened my palm, staring at the tusk-shaped seashell Imogen had given me, and the way it seemed to shine with iridescent colors.

My voice softened. "I'm so close to bringing more land under our protection. I can't abandon them."

She released her hold on my boot, but stayed close. Our eyes meeting. Something like a smile crested over her thin lips again. "You are too noble for your own good."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." I let out a strangled laugh, which seemed to break the tension that had been brewing between us. Rubbing my thumb over the shell, I asked, "Is there anything that can be done? Anything at all? I'm desperate."

Imogen floated back to her place across the pool, not meeting my gaze as she toyed with her collections of shells. Rearranging them into little stacks with her long, bony fingers.

"Diana will not speak to you nor offer any way out of this bond. She is a romantic. And besides, her witches have the advantage in these aggressions that your kind are ignoring."

"We are not ignoring them," I told her as calmly as I could.

She shot me a glare that told me she thought otherwise. "Moon magick doesn't require a limited resource, like the demonic relics. She will see no benefit in helping you."

I hung on her words, waiting for something that might help me because speaking to the gods wasn't an option.

"But," she said, "perhaps Damon could be persuaded."

My jaw clenched, and my question came out through my teeth. "Your advice is that I summon the god of the underworld and ask him to break my mate bond?"

"If you really want to live a life without a mate, then making a deal with him may be your only option."

As much as I wanted to be free of my bond with Claire, summoning a god was out of the question. It wasn't just that they were fickle, it was that giving them human form could cause any number of consequences. Look what had happened to Vesta when the water witches summoned her.

"Summoning a god goes against the Blood Treaty," I said plainly. The Witches of the Light and Darkness knew as much when they created it.

Imogen pointed to the shell in my hand, turning her strange eyes on me once again. Eyes that seemed to see things that weren't in this cavern. "It seems you've done a fair few things that go against the rules, Bastien of House Allard, all in the name of preserving your noble quest."

"The way you say noble quest makes me feel like you don't think it's very noble at all."

She turned her back to me. "If you wanted to ask more questions, you should've brought more shells."

I took my leave of the cavern, climbing the steps and traversing the halls that led back to my chamber. I craved solitude, yet, longed for her presence. But Claire wouldn't reach Chateau Rose for some time, and I needed to use that time to think.

Strolling toward the heavy black drapes, I threw them open and was rewarded with the sight of the moon hanging over the snow-capped trees just before dawn.

I'd left my mate alone, making her vulnerable to the elements and my nephew and any number of dangers that could befall her on the half-day journey.

And yet I was no closer to discovering a way to keep my feelings for her at bay.

I'd only known her less than a fortnight, but Claire was seeping into every part of me.

What would I be like a month from now? Or six? 

I was certain I would never last the year with her.

I really debated whether I should stay with Bastien's POV or switch back to Claire's, but I felt like I couldn't skip over this scene. I hope it wasn't too lore heavy!

Did this chapter raise more questions than it provided answers?

If so, I'll let you ask me a question this time!