The cheers in the Council Chamber didn’t last.
They couldn’t.
Because truth—real, raw, soul-shattering truth—wasn’t something you celebrated. It was something you survived.
The moment Cassian fled, the weight of what we’d done settled over the chamber like a storm. The runes on the silver circle still pulsed faintly, their blue light dimming as the magic of the Trial of Truth receded. My palm stung where I’d cut it, the wound half-healed, the blood dried in dark streaks across my fingers. Kaelen’s hand was still locked in mine, his grip tight, his knuckles white. His chest rose and fell fast, his golden eyes burning with something I couldn’t name—relief, rage, exhaustion, love. All of it, all at once.
And then—
He pulled me close.
Not gently. Not carefully.
Like he needed to feel me. To know I was real.
His arms wrapped around me, crushing me to his chest, his face buried in my hair. I could feel his heartbeat—wild, uneven, too fast. The bond between us hummed, not with desire, not with magic, but with something deeper. Something fragile. Something new.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You’re alive. You’re here.”
“So are you,” I whispered, my fingers clutching the back of his coat. “You’re not broken. You’re not gone.”
Because I’d seen it.
In the Trial.
Not just the memories.
Not just the love.
The fear.
The moment when Cassian had pressed the dagger to his throat, when he’d signed the Contract not out of power, but out of desperation. When he’d chosen to live so his pack could survive. And the guilt—thick, suffocating, like a second skin—that had eaten at him for decades.
And I’d felt it.
Not just seen.
Felt.
Like it was my own.
“I didn’t know,” I said, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I didn’t know what he did to you.”
His jaw tightened. “You weren’t supposed to.”
“But I *should* have,” I said, my voice breaking. “I came here to destroy you. I called you a monster. I thought you’d signed it willingly, that you’d chosen power over people. And all this time—”
“All this time,” he said, cutting me off, “you were the only one who saw me. Not the Alpha. Not the signatory. *Me*.”
My breath caught.
And then—
Elara stepped forward, her silver hair gleaming in the torchlight, her face pale but steady. Riven was beside her, his dark eyes sharp, his silence heavier than any words.
“The bond is recognized,” Elara said, her voice low. “The Contract is broken. But the cost—”
“—isn’t paid yet,” Riven finished.
Kaelen didn’t flinch. “What do you mean?”
Elara looked at me. Then at Kaelen. Then at the silver circle, where our blood still glistened on the runes. “The Trial of Truth doesn’t just reveal memories. It *binds* them. It fuses the souls of those who undergo it. And when one soul carries a curse—”
“—the other takes part of it,” Riven said. “You didn’t just share the truth. You shared the burden.”
My chest tightened.
“You’re saying I took his guilt?” I asked.
“No,” Elara said. “You took *yours*.”
“What?”
“You came here to destroy him,” she said, her voice gentle. “You believed he was the enemy. That he deserved punishment. And when you saw the truth, when you realized he wasn’t the monster you thought—he didn’t just give you his pain.” She stepped closer. “You gave him *yours*.”
I didn’t speak.
Because she was right.
I *had* believed he was the enemy.
I’d planned to expose him. To humiliate him. To break him in front of the Council.
And when I’d seen the truth—when I’d *felt* it—I hadn’t just forgiven him.
I’d felt *guilty*.
For misjudging him.
For hating him.
For wanting to destroy the man who had saved his pack.
And now—
That guilt wasn’t just mine.
It was *ours*.
“So what now?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Do we just… carry it? Forever?”
“No,” Elara said. “But you have to face it. Together. Or it will eat you alive.”
—
The journey back to the Northern Stronghold was silent.
No words. No comfort. No promises.
Just the rhythmic clop of the shadow wolves’ hooves against the stone road, the cold wind cutting through the carriage, the weight of what we’d done pressing down on us like a stone.
Kaelen sat across from me, his face unreadable, his golden eyes dark. Riven and Elara were beside him, their silence heavier than any speech. I wanted to reach for him. To touch him. To say something—anything—that would make this real, that would make it *okay*.
But I couldn’t.
Because the guilt was there.
Not just in me.
In *us*.
And it was growing.
By the time we reached the stronghold, the sun had set, the torches along the walls flickering like dying stars. The wolves stood at attention, their eyes sharp, their loyalty a quiet promise in the air. But they didn’t cheer. Didn’t roar. They just watched. As if they could feel it too.
The bond was real.
But it was wounded.
Kaelen didn’t speak as we walked through the corridors, his hand warm on the small of my back, his presence a wall of heat and muscle. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the man who had kissed me in the Council Chamber. The man who had claimed me in front of his pack. This was someone else.
Someone broken.
We reached his chambers, the runes on the walls pulsing faintly, the fire crackling low in the hearth. He stepped inside, then stopped, his back to me.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said, his voice rough.
My breath caught.
“After everything,” I said, stepping forward, “you’re pushing me away?”
He didn’t turn. “I’m not pushing you away. I’m giving you a choice.”
“I *chose* you,” I said, my voice breaking. “Not because of the bond. Not because of magic. Because of *love*.”
He turned then, his golden eyes blazing. “And I chose you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t carry this. That I don’t *feel* this.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “You think I don’t see it in your eyes? The moment you realized I wasn’t the monster you thought I was—when you felt guilty for wanting to destroy me?”
My chest tightened.
“And you think I don’t feel it too?” he said. “The moment you walked into that courtroom, I thought you were my enemy. I thought you’d come to ruin me. And when I realized you weren’t—when I realized you *loved* me—I felt guilty for ever doubting you. For ever fighting you. For ever *hurting* you.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Because he was right.
The guilt wasn’t just mine.
It wasn’t just his.
It was *ours*.
And it was tearing us apart.
“So what do we do?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, his hand coming up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek. His touch was warm. Familiar. *Mine*.
“We face it,” he said, voice rough. “Together. Or we lose everything.”
—
The next morning, the stronghold was quiet—too quiet. No howls from the training grounds. No drums in the courtyard. Just silence, thick and suffocating.
Kaelen was gone.
Not far. Not gone from me.
But he’d left a note on the furs: *“Patrol. Be back by dusk. Don’t follow.”*
I didn’t.
Instead, I went to the archives.
The Fae Archives were deep beneath the stronghold, carved from black stone, lit by torches that flickered with blue flame. The air hummed with ancient magic, thick and heavy, like the breath of something buried. Rows of stone shelves held scrolls, tomes, vials of preserved memories—centuries of secrets, locked away.
And in the center—
A pedestal.
On it, a single book—bound in silver, its cover etched with runes I didn’t recognize. But I *felt* it. The pull. The whisper. Like it was calling to me.
I stepped forward, my fingers trembling as I reached for it.
The moment I touched it, the runes flared.
And the voice—
Not mine.
Not Kaelen’s.
My mother’s.
“You’ve found it,” she said, her voice soft, familiar. “The Book of Bonds. The truth of our bloodline.”
My breath caught.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.
“Because you weren’t ready,” she said. “And because some truths must be earned, not given.”
“And now?” I asked.
“Now,” she said, “you must decide. Do you want to heal the bond? Or do you want to break it?”
“I don’t want to break it,” I said. “I want to *save* it.”
“Then open the book,” she said. “And face what you’ve done.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I opened it.
And the world—
It vanished.
—
I stood in the Fae High Court, but it wasn’t the cold, gilded chamber I knew. The marble was cracked, veined with silver like frozen lightning. The chandeliers hung crooked, their crystals shattered. The air smelled of blood and ozone, of something ancient and broken. And in the center—
The Contract.
But it wasn’t parchment anymore.
It was alive.
Not just pulsing. Not just shifting.
Watching.
Its silver veins throbbed, the black ink writhing like serpents beneath the surface. And then—
It spoke.
Not with sound.
With thought.
“You have returned,” it whispered, the voice layered, ancient, hungry. “The challenger and the signatory. The destroyer and the bound.”
I didn’t flinch. “We’re not here to destroy. We’re here to heal.”
“To claim,” it corrected. “To fulfill. To break.”
“Then show us,” I said, voice steady. “Show us how to fix it.”
The Contract pulsed.
And then—
Transfer.
The world blurred.
Reformed.
I stood in a hidden chamber beneath the Court—same stone, same silver veins—but older, colder. And in the center—
My mother.
She was on her knees, blood on her hands, her silver hair glowing in the torchlight. But her eyes—sharp, knowing—locked onto mine.
“You’ve found it,” she said, voice strong, clear.
“Found what?” I asked.
“The truth,” she said. “That the Contract was never meant to enslave. It was meant to protect. To keep your bloodline safe from those who would exploit your magic.”
“Then why did it bind us?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why did it force us together?”
She looked at me—really looked at me. “Because love,” she said, “is the only magic strong enough to break a curse. But it’s also the only magic strong enough to *heal* one.”
And then—
The vision shifted.
Not past.
Not future.
Now.
We stood in the Council Chamber, whole, unbroken. The chandeliers sparkled, the marble gleamed. And in the center—
Us.
Hand in hand. Marked. Claimed. Bound.
But we were kneeling.
Not in triumph.
Not in victory.
In apology.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I’m sorry I called you a monster. I’m sorry I wanted to destroy you.”
Kaelen looked at me, his golden eyes burning. “And I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I fought you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
And then—
We embraced.
Not in passion.
Not in desire.
In forgiveness.
The bond pulsed—hot, heavy, alive—a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper.
And the Contract—
It shattered.
Not with a scream.
Not with a roar.
With a sigh.
Like a century of lies finally letting go.
—
I gasped, my chest heaving, my vision blurred with tears.
The book was still in my hands, the runes dim. The voice—my mother’s—was gone.
But the truth remained.
We didn’t need to destroy the guilt.
We needed to *face* it.
To *name* it.
To *forgive* it.
And each other.
I closed the book, clutching it to my chest, and ran.
Not to the courtyard.
Not to the training grounds.
To the edge of the cliffs, where the wind howled and the stars burned cold and bright.
And there—
He was waiting.
Kaelen stood at the edge, his coat pulled tight against the wind, his golden eyes glowing in the dark. He didn’t turn as I approached. Didn’t speak.
Just stood, a silhouette against the night.
“I found it,” I said, my voice breaking. “The Book of Bonds. The truth.”
He didn’t move. “And what truth is that?”
“That we don’t need to run from this,” I said, stepping closer. “We don’t need to hide. We don’t need to pretend it’s not there.”
He turned then, his eyes burning. “Then what do we do?”
“We face it,” I said, my fingers trembling as I reached for his hand. “Together. We say it. We name it. We *forgive* it.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
And then—
I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t ask what for.
Just held me tighter.
And then—
He said it too.
“I’m sorry.”
And the bond—
It healed.
Not with fire.
Not with magic.
With silence.
With truth.
With love.
And as the wind howled and the stars burned above us—
I knew.
The Contract was broken.
But our bond?
That was just beginning.