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Joshua's eyes flicker over Owen's Knot and I can feel the realisation hit over him like a bullet. I don't get it, though, all I can feel is his realisation. I watch the two Knots in front of me: they look the same. The same as mine, the same lines, the same Celtic Heart shape, everything.

So why am I only Fated to Joshua?

"Look, the same," Owen says as if he's just won a wrestling match. Since last night, he's barely spoken to me, made sly digs about me storming out, tried to get out of this.

I glance at Joshua, he's maintained his dignity against Owen, being the bigger man both in height and personality right now. I'm still annoyed at him for refusing me yesterday, but I get why. I've just been rejected, but now we're not in the moment, I can see what he means.

He's right: the question is do I love Owen? The law states you need to be with your Fated One, otherwise you suffer the legal consequences. Whatever is going on here, internally, I'm Fated to Joshua. But to look at, the Knot Art shows I have two Fated Ones. My card says Owen.

But I will always be pulled to Joshua, and I like it.

For all intents and purposes, I could pick. To the government, I will have two and there are no rules, so if they found out, they'd either test the shit out of me or let me pick. The reject would probably be Segregated because it wouldn't be that person's fault, they just got the bad batch of Knot Art.

That's if the government found out. I'm engaged to Owen; my card says Owen, our tattoos match. No one has ever seen a reason for us not to be that way.

But I will always feel Joshua, share a tether to him via our wrists for our lives. Unless the Declaration didn't work, unless he goes back rejected and chooses to live back there. He has options.

But Joshua knows something, I felt him realise it when his eyes hit Owen's tattoo.

"So, what does this mean, 'cause I don't get a connection to you," Owen pipes up.

He's hating every single second of this, and I can tell he's feeling challenged, jealous and he's overcompensating. I wonder if he can sense or see the connection Joshua and I have because we're Fated.

I'd demonstrate it, but I don't know how. I don't know how to prove to him that this isn't in my head.

"I don't know, I don't know the laws surrounding someone having two Fated Ones," I answer when Joshua doesn't.

"We need to find a way to cut this guy out," Owen says to me.

"No," I say without thinking.

I slump down in my chair. There are three other tables occupied in this place, but they're all deep in their own conversations. The sunlight is beaming through the windows, making it seem like the world is bright and happy, yet there are the three of us crowded around the Throne area of the shop in the doom and gloom.

"Don't start with this shit again," Owen says, and turns to Josh with a laugh. "She claims you two can feel each other's emotions and shit. How ridiculous—"

"Right now, she's feeling embarrassed, and she wishes she hadn't said no. When I got here, and you two were out in the staff area, I could feel how tense she was. Last night, I could feel you kissing her neck and how she rejected you because she was upset."

"Joshua—"

"Excuse me, what?" Owen cuts me off.

"Do you need me to carry on, or does that clear that up?" Joshua asks blandly. The man astounds me. He's not even feeling an ounce of competition, he's just telling Owen how it is. Yet, when I look at the man claiming to be my fiancé, I can see the competition written over his face.

I can't feel Owen. It's that simple.

"If I touch my Knot, Amelia will feel it. If she touches hers, I feel it. Doesn't matter where we are. We touch it at the same time, and it sort of soothes the emotions, sort of like if you were to get high on drugs. The moment I met her, I felt pulled to her, as if she was the opposite magnet to me. I would demonstrate it to you, but you can't see it. Even if you could, I don't think you'd believe me, Owen. But that's what it is. You can look up the effects on any forum on the internet, plenty of people report the same effects with their Fated One," Joshua carries on.

As he sips his coffee, his emotions slip. But it's not triumph; he's feeling pity. Sympathy. For Owen.

Well, shit.

Owen's frown deepens. It's because he must know we don't have this depth of connection and he's feeling threatened.

"Stay the fuck away from her, do you hear me?" Owen threatens. His finger points towards Joshua.

"I'm her tutor, I can't do that," Joshua answers.

Owen laughs. "Exactly. I catch you near her outside of lectures, and one call to the university will ruin your career, mate. Inappropriate relationship; abuse of position of power and all that."

Joshua sighs. "Do your research. Even if Amelia and I were in a sexual relationship, which we are not, it's not against the rules. She is an adult and so am I. All I have to do is disclose it to HR and she will be moved classes. I'm Fated to her, it's not like that's a career-ending thing; it's not her or my fault."

Owen straightens his back and sighs.

I realise within seconds that Owen is hiding something. I can tell because his lips move into a tight line, his eyebrows knit together, and his hands are shaking.

This makes it all even more obvious to me: there is no connection here. It's all human, it's all based on us spending our whole lives in each other's pockets. This is no tether.

My feelings become crystal clear.

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As we approach Joshua's car after I storm out on Owen, I realise it's not what I expect. I expected an old beat-up thing, in brown maybe, not a sleek, black sports car.

He starts the car and turns the radio off.

"I know he's hiding something; I just don't know what," I whisper. "I also know he feels threatened. And no, before you ask, I didn't feel it, I know him and how he works."

"That's my point, Amelia, you've always thought that knowing is a connection when it's not, that's why you've been overwhelmed by our connection," he answers. He stops when we hit the traffic lights.

"I could feel you understanding something. What was it?" I ask.

He glances at me. "I... I don't think you'd believe me."

"Try me."

He chuckles. "Don't think I didn't feel you checking me out earlier, by the way—"

I groan. "Joshua. Don't try to distract me from the topic."

"Fine. Owen's Knot might look like it matches, but it's very much fake. I've seen plenty of them before. There's a distinctive way fake Knot Art looks," he says. I realise he's driven us to his house.

"Did you want to come in?" he adds. I glance at him, it's not even a question because we both know I'm escaping Owen and he needs to explain this to me.

"Sure," I answer.

He waits until we're in the kitchen to speak.

"Show me your Knot," he says.

I do as I'm told and present it to him. His fingers brush over the fine lines in the middle of the knot in the heart. The effects of his touch are like putting your pyjamas on after a long day, like wrapping up in the duvet on a cold night, it's the blanket on a cold, rainy day and you're inside.

"Joshua—"

"I'm sorry, but I need to show you," he whispers. He knows he's driving me insane here, the need speeds through my veins as he shows me the tiny lines. I try to fight it, push it deep down so I can focus.

"These lines here, in the middle, where the Knot folds over the other point?" He releases his hold on my tattoo so I can properly focus on his words. "Mine and yours fold under and never sever, right?"

"Yeah, I pretty much studied it for a year and a bit. Hard not to when it's stuck on your arm," I mention.

"Owen's is severed."

I look down at my tattoo, the part of the Knot Art he pointed out. The black and grey lines don't break, the lines are so intricate, and the artwork is so good that the rope parts look like they fold under the top line and then come up the other side to continue its loop around. There are two more places like that on that same 'rope'. But Joshua pointed to one specific place, and I look hard at it. No breaks, it just continues. Obviously, it's just a trick of the art, but there is not a break in it.

"Can I?" I ask. He shows me his, and without touching, I see the same thing on his arm.

"The bit I showed you on Owen's Knot has a tiny few severs to it, meaning the tattoo is broken. So, to a naked, untrained eye, it would look the same as ours, but when you really look, you see it. I was looking specifically for something off, so I caught it. I've seen it before, within some of the Segregated. They either tattooed themselves or got someone who isn't a Knotsman Artist to do it, or a corrupt Artist did it because they didn't want a Fated One. It's a way of faking the Knot without being Fated," Joshua explains.

"So, you're saying you think Owen has faked his Knot?"

He stares at me for a moment before sighing. "I hate telling you this because I can feel it hurting you. But my theory is that you were never meant to be Fated to Owen, and something happened. Maybe he got his card, or maybe he was always meant to be Segregated. I've heard of a very small group of people just not having one. Whether it's because they are defective in some way or the government doesn't want them having one, I don't know. My friend called them the Rejected."

"Rejected?" I question.

"People who don't have a Fated One. They're automatically segregated for one reason or another. I don't know why Owen would be. Maybe they knew he would go against the Fated One concept to be with you and decided it wasn't worth it, whether he has a medical issue, or I don't know. It's one theory. Or maybe Owen saw his card and saw it wasn't you so had the Knot Art faked. That's more likely, I think. Whoever did the Art left the mark so it would look like it matched yours, so no one would ever question it, but clearly, you're not Fated, so you don't get the effects."

I run a hand over my face. This is ridiculous. "But surely the best way to do that would be to match it up perfectly? Make those marks perfect?"

"The Tether doesn't work like that. Even if the sever wasn't there, he'd just be segregated for being faulty. Better to fake it like that than be Segregated, right?"

"But he'll be segregated anyway if he gets caught. Why would he do that? How would he do that?" I question.

"Because he's in love with you, and didn't want to be without you," Joshua says. "Simple explanation. I'm not saying he's done this with malice, though his attitude earlier would lead me to believe he could."

"I'm sorry he acted like that," I say.

Joshua shrugs. "He can probably tell this is real and that eventually, you'll work it all out."

I sigh and stare at our Knots that are on show: two matching, the same. I reach out and he wordlessly lets me trace it with my finger. I feel everything bad and every stress even out in his mind.

"He shouldn't have spoken to you like that," I whisper. "Even though he doesn't believe it—"

"I think he doesn't believe it because he knows what he's done," he says quietly. "He didn't know he would have to face it, but now it's real."

"He thinks this is all in my head, especially this side of it," I say and gesture with my head to where my fingers connect to his tattoo.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

He doesn't have to tell me what for because I know what he's sorry for. My rant yesterday about him storming into my life and uprooting everything like a tree that's been around for years and years, suddenly cut down without a care. He's sorry that I hate him so much, he's sorry for creating so much drama.

But as his other hand reaches for my Knot and he dissolves everything stressful from me, and we stand still, linked, and fully connected, I don't respond because I don't need to.

"Amelia—"

I shut him up by shaking my head, removing my hand from his Knot Art and threading our fingers together instead. It's a different kind of connection, and though not a Tether, it's still full of life.

His hand caresses my cheek, and he draws me closer to him until there is barely a cat's whisker distance between our lips.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "Owen—"

"Isn't here."

"You didn't want to be second best," I remind him.

"For now, I'm not, I can feel it," he responds.

I don't even get a chance to respond before his lips claim mine, the hunger obvious. I kiss him back with just as much desperation.

He tastes like coffee, but his lips are a fluffy marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate. He's just as sweet. His hands move to my sides, clinging to the material of my dress, gathering up the sides and clinging for dear life. I wrap my arms around his neck, stretching on my toes to match his height.

Our lips don't leave each other's as he lifts me around his waist, and I feel the thump as we're suddenly on his sofa.

I finally break the spell cast over us to take this in; I'm sitting on his lap, legs wrapped around him as he sits on the sofa. His marshmallow lips are flushed, his eyes are hungry for more, glowing their dark magic at me.

"Amelia—"

"Sh," I say. I press a finger to his lips to quieten him. His hands fall on my bare thighs under my dress. The sizzle his hands make as our tether burns away is like a week of warm spring weather after a below-freezing winter.

"I have one more theory for you," he says.

"Mm?" I ask.

"You don't really hate me," he whispers.

I giggle. "I mean, you might be onto something."

"I don't think you ever really did," he adds. He presses a lengthy peck on my lips between sentences. "I think you hide behind it because you feel bad about Owen not being you're Fated One."

I don't respond with words. We both know between us he's probably right. Instead, I kiss him so hard, stars constellate under my eyelids. His tongue explores my mouth. I feel him hardening while his hands roam my thighs.

He pulls away, his hands move from my skin. "If we carry on, you're going to regret it."

The sigh isn't meant to come from my mouth, but it does anyway; the heaviness in my heart, the realisation that I need to face what happened not an hour ago.

But the fact remains that Joshua is magic; he's the moment of awe and wonder, of confusion and frustration.

"I hate you," I whisper as he rests our foreheads together. It seems easier than saying that I won't regret anything we do. We both know it anyway.

"I don't feel one layer of truth to that statement," he answers.

"What I said yesterday... I was harsh, but it's true. I hate how you've turned my life upside down. I hate that I'm falling for you," I admit. "I hate that I have to go and face Owen after what happened."

"Then don't. He's not worth your time. Stay with me," he suggests.

"I'm still engaged to him," I retort.

His left hand explores under my dress. He ghosts his fingers across the skin, catching the edge of my bra.

"Joshua, we're already going too far," I say.

"I know."

I clamber off his lap, the guilt building up now the spell has been broken.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't want to make you second best."

"That's the funny thing, Amelia, I know I'm not. I haven't been since last night."

Magic is a funny thing because though it's all just an illusion and trick of the eye, every single person has a slither of belief in them when they see a trick. It's that little slither now that runs between Joshua and I as he says those words. But what I don't understand is whether he is the magic trick, and it's time I started believing, or whether Owen has been casting one all along and I've just believed in magic for a little too long. Because magic, like beauty, is all in the eye of the beholder.

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