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"You aren't who he would have chosen as a mate."
Before the words had even fully sunk in, Elain had turned her head to her younger sister, only to see shock, mixed with frustration on her face. It wasn’t until the words, and their meaning, settled into her mind, that she fought, and failed, the urge to flinch back.
“That didn’t come out the way I meant for it to.” Feyre spoke up again, fully aware of how her original statement affected Elain, even though she wished it wouldn’t have.
Elain, proving to be more stubborn than either her sisters remembered, especially surrounding this topic, simply turned her head, and looked away. She hoped to give the impression that she did not care, nor did she wish to discuss him.
He was visiting, of course. Elains sisters only ever brought up the subject whenever he was around, but not near.
“He thought he had a mate, but the bond never snapped into place.” Feyre spoke, as though Elains dismissal of the topic had not happened.
Closing her eyes, she fought against the surge of jealousy that reared its ugly head. It was not hers, it did not belong to her. The emotion came from that thin golden thread that came from the deepest part of her being, and connected her to the red haired male. The emotion, though she knew what it was, and why it was there, was foreign.
“They loved each other so deeply, they genuinely believed they were mates.” Elains younger sister continued. She continued, ignoring, or just not knowing, the jealousy growing.
Elain hated it. She had no right to react this way. She did not wish to react this way. Yet here she was, jealous enough anyone who did not know the situation, might think that she had not ignored that thread.
“Clearly, they are not.” Elain clipped back. Her words, sharper, her tone, harder than she had planned. She hadn’t intended to respond at all, yet she could not help it.
“No. They aren’t.” Feyre responded, seeming to finally get a sense of where Elains mind was at. “It didn’t stop him from believing she was, even in the centuries after her death.”
Elain, as much as she loved to believe she was great at controlling her reactions, when it came to the golden thread, or him, she had a hard time keeping any reaction to herself, especially when she could not control it.
There was a small flicker of relief at learning this unknown female that he loved so much, had wanted to be his, had wanted the golden thread to tie him too instead, had no longer been alive. She couldn’t help it. She desperately hoped her face remained neutral. What kind of person had any sort of glee learning someone had died, no matter how long ago?
But there was one thing Elain could not figure out. This was not her sister's story to tell. She knew why her sister was telling her. Elain wouldn’t speak to him. But it still wasn’t Feyre’s story to tell.
Beyond that though, Elain was curious.
“Of all the times to tell me, why now?” Though she asked, she refused to look at her sister. Asking the question may have been too much, letting her sister think she was giving too much interest in him. Turning her gaze to her sister wouldn’t help Elain.
“I thought you should know, you aren’t the only one who found yourself in this bond, having had hope for a past love.” Feyre responded.
It was the first time anyone had mentioned, even though indirectly, Greyson, at all since the war. What he had done, had said to her.
He was the reason Elain had started ignoring the heartbeat she could still hear. Greysons cruel words, and the harsh way he spoke to her was the reason Elain would not look within herself, knowing she would only see the golden thread. The way Greyson had broken her heart was the reason Elain refused to look at the male with the red hair.
Refusing to listen to her sister any longer, Elain stood, and walked out of the room, without another word.
She was tired of everyone expecting her to do something about her situation. She couldn’t even try to distract herself, like Nesta could, without this situation ruining it.
Maybe she hadn’t done anything because maybe she may want to be happy like her sisters one day. But that day kept getting pushed further, the more her sisters brought up the topic like she should take pity on him.
Elain hadn’t realised where she was walking, hadn’t caught the flash of red through the window, hadn’t heard his laugh as she turned the corner. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.
Yet, when Elain had entered the town house, thinking she might be free of the entirety of him, she ended up face to face with him, barely registering his human friends.
He still had the laughter in his eyes, though it was quickly dying, as he realized that it was Elain who stood in front of him.
Elain couldn’t help the longing, the pain, the sadness upon seeing how quickly his laughter and joy died. She did that to him. And this was the worst part of this bond. The guilt, seeing his expression fall, anytime he saw her.
Though, now, her mind had something new to supply, seeing the fallen joy. Even though her sister hadn’t meant it in a way to be painful, her words came back, which added more uncontrolled, and unwanted pain in Elains chest.
‘You aren’t who he would have chosen as a mate.’
Without saying a word, Elain turned on her heel, and walked back out the front door, completely forgetting why she had come to the town house to begin with.
The only thing on her mind was how Lucien Vanserra’s face always fell, whenever she came into the room, and how it was probably because she wasn’t who he wanted.