The dream began with fire.
Not the slow burn of the bond, not the flicker of candlelight in our chambers, but a wildfire—raging, roaring, consuming everything. I stood in the center of it, barefoot on scorched earth, my skin blistering, my breath searing in my lungs. The air was thick with smoke and ash, with the scent of burning parchment and old blood. And beneath it—faint, but unmistakable—jasmine. My mother’s scent.
“Petunia.”
The voice came from the flames. Soft. Familiar. A whisper carried on the wind.
I turned.
And there she was.
Mother.
Not as I remembered her—broken, exiled, her body found in the slums of the Veil Market with her throat slit—but as she had been before the purge. Tall. Proud. Her dark hair braided with silver thread, her storm-amber eyes sharp with magic. She wore the Vale family robes—black with crimson trim, the crescent moon wrapped in thorns embroidered over her heart. Her hands were stained with ink and blood, her fingers curled around a grimoire bound in wolf hide.
The *Vale Codex*.
My breath caught.
“Mother,” I whispered, stepping forward. “You’re… you’re alive.”
She smiled—sad, knowing. “Not in flesh. But in memory. In magic. In *you*.”
“I’ve looked for you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’ve searched every archive, every ruin, every whisper in the Veil Market. I thought—”
“You thought I was gone,” she said, stepping closer. The flames parted for her, bowing like subjects before a queen. “And I am. But my blood lives in you. My magic. My *truth*.”
“Then tell me,” I said, my hands clenching. “Tell me who killed you. Who framed us. Who stole the Codex.”
She didn’t answer.
Just held out the grimoire.
“You already know,” she said. “But you’ve been looking in the wrong place.”
“Malrik has it,” I said. “The map—”
“The map is a lie,” she said, her voice sharp. “A trap. Malrik wants you to believe he has it. That he’s the betrayer. But he’s not.”
My stomach twisted. “Then who is?”
She stepped closer, her hand brushing my cheek. Her touch was warm, real. “The betrayer wears a mask of loyalty. He speaks of protection, but he hoards power. He lets you hate him so you won’t see the truth.”
My pulse spiked.
“Kaelen?” I whispered.
She didn’t confirm it. Didn’t deny it.
Just smiled. “The Codex is hidden where the moon does not rise. Not beneath Malrik’s hand. But beneath *his*.”
“Where?” I asked. “Where is it?”
“In the heart of the enemy,” she said. “Where no one would dare look. Where the Fae cannot reach. Where the blood oath is strongest.”
“The Moonveil Court?” I asked.
She nodded. “The archives. Deep beneath the silver spires. Guarded by oath and glamour. But you cannot go alone. You need his strength. His shadow. His *blood*.”
“Kaelen’s?”
“Yes,” she said. “But trust him only with your mission. Not your heart. For love blinds even the strongest.”
“I don’t love him,” I said, my voice too fast, too sharp.
She laughed—soft, knowing. “You do. Even if you won’t say it. Even if you fight it. Your body knows. Your wolf knows. The bond knows.”
“Then why warn me?” I asked. “If he’s not the betrayer, why tell me not to trust him?”
“Because,” she said, stepping back, the flames rising around her, “he will choose duty over you. He will lie to protect you. And when the time comes, you must be strong enough to face the truth—*without* him.”
“Mother—”
“Go,” she said. “Find the Codex. Break the oaths. Restore our name. And remember—” her voice faded, the fire consuming her—“the greatest betrayal is not in the theft… but in the silence.”
And then—
I woke.
Sweat-drenched. Heart pounding. The bond humming beneath my skin like a live wire. The mating mark on my neck pulsed, warm and insistent, as if it had felt her too.
I sat up too fast, the room tilting. Our chambers—obsidian walls, black silk drapes, the scent of dark amber and old blood woven into the air—were dark, silent. The Blood Moon still hung low outside the window, staining the mountains crimson. The air was thick with magic, with tension.
And then—
A whisper.
Not from the dream.
From the bed.
“You were dreaming of her.”
I turned.
Kaelen lay beside me, his eyes open, glowing faintly in the dark. He was on his back, one arm behind his head, the other resting just above the bandage on his side. The mating mark on his neck was hidden beneath the collar of his shirt, but I could feel it. *Sense* it. A mirror of my own.
“How do you know?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Your scent changed,” he said, turning his head to look at me. “Jasmine. Grief. *Need*. And your pulse—fast, uneven. Like you were running from something.”
“Or toward it,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
Just watched me, his crimson eyes searching mine.
And then—
He moved.
Not toward me.
Away.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing in one fluid motion. His bare feet made no sound on the stone. He walked to the window, his back to me, his silhouette sharp against the crimson sky.
“You dream of her often,” he said. “Your mother. I can feel it. In the bond. In your blood.”
“You feel everything,” I said, pulling the covers up, hiding my body. “My fear. My anger. My *need*. You’ve turned me inside out.”
“The bond does that,” he said, not turning. “It strips away lies. Reveals truth.”
“And what truth did it reveal tonight?” I asked. “That I’m weak? That I miss her? That I’m afraid I’ll fail her?”
He turned.
Slow.
Deliberate.
And then he was beside me, kneeling on the bed, his hands on either side of my hips. His heat seared through the thin fabric of my nightgown. His scent—dark amber and old blood—filled my lungs.
“The truth,” he said, his voice low, “is that you’re not weak. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. And the fact that you still fight, still seek justice, still *burn* for her—” his thumb brushed my lower lip—“that’s not weakness. That’s *power*.”
My breath hitched.
“You don’t get to say things like that,” I whispered. “You don’t get to use my own pain against me.”
“I’m not using it,” he said. “I’m *seeing* you. Not the hunter. Not the avenger. Not the hybrid with a grudge. But *you*. Petunia. The woman who bites back when she’s hurt. Who fights when she’s afraid. Who *loves* even when she says she doesn’t.”
My chest tightened.
“I don’t love you,” I said, my voice trembling.
He smiled—faint, knowing. “Liar.”
And then he pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me, his heat searing through my skin. I wanted to fight. To push him away. To remind him that I came here to destroy him.
But I didn’t.
I *leaned* into him.
Just a fraction.
Just enough.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. “You were dreaming of the Codex,” he murmured. “Where it is. Who has it.”
My breath stilled.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I felt it,” he said. “In the bond. In your magic. You were close. So close.”
“And you’re not going to stop me?” I asked, pulling back just enough to look at him. “You’re not going to lie? To manipulate? To *protect* me from the truth?”
He didn’t answer.
Just watched me, his eyes burning.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not hard. Not possessive.
Soft. Slow. *Real*.
His lips moved against mine, gentle, reverent. His hand cradled my neck, his thumb stroking the mating mark. The bond flared, a surge of heat and magic and *truth*, sealing us, binding us, *claiming* us.
And for the first time—
I didn’t fight it.
I leaned into him.
Just a fraction.
Just enough.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “Go,” he said, voice rough. “Find the truth. Break the oaths. Restore your name. And if you need me—” his hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer—“I’ll be there. Not as your enemy. Not as your mate. But as *yours*.”
My breath caught.
“You’re not supposed to say things like that,” I whispered. “You’re not supposed to make me *believe* in you.”
“I’m not trying to,” he said. “I’m just telling you the truth. Something you’ve never heard from me before.”
I didn’t answer.
Just pressed my palm to the sigil on my chest—no, not my chest. My *palm*. The mark still glowed faintly, pulsing with every beat of my heart. The bond was awake. Alive. And it *remembered*.
And so did I.
––––––
At dawn, I stood in the east wing library, the dream still echoing in my skull.
“The archives,” I whispered, tracing the crescent moon on my palm. “Deep beneath the silver spires. Guarded by oath and glamour.”
The Moonveil Court.
The heart of the Fae.
The last place anyone would look for a witch’s grimoire.
And the one place Malrik couldn’t reach.
Because the Fae didn’t steal. They *bargained*. They *claimed*. They *owned* secrets like others owned gold.
And if the Codex was there—
Then someone had traded it.
Someone with the power to break a blood oath.
Someone like Kaelen.
My stomach twisted.
No.
He wouldn’t.
He’d protected it. Hid it. Let me hate him to keep me safe.
But what if Mother was right?
What if the greatest betrayal wasn’t in the theft—
But in the silence?
A knock at the door.
“Enter,” I said, not turning.
The door opened, and Silas stepped in, his dark eyes scanning the room before settling on me. “My lady,” he said. “Lord Duskbane requests your presence in the war room. There’s been a development.”
“What kind?”
“A message,” he said. “From the Moonveil Court. They’ve summoned you. Both of you.”
My pulse spiked.
“Why?”
“They say,” Silas said, “the Blood Moon demands balance. And you… are unbalanced.”
I turned.
“And Kaelen agreed to go?”
“He did,” Silas said. “But he wants you at his side. Not as his mate. Not as his prisoner. But as his *equal*.”
I stared at him.
He didn’t flinch.
Just held my gaze, steady, unyielding.
And then—
He stepped closer. “He’s not what you think he is,” he said, voice low. “And neither are you. But the truth… it’s coming. And when it does—” he paused—“you’ll have to choose. Revenge. Or him.”
I didn’t answer.
Just turned back to the shelves, my fingers trailing over spines.
And then—
I whispered it.
Not to him.
To the air.
To the bond.
To *her*.
“I already have.”
And as the sun rose over Blackthorn Keep, as the Blood Moon faded to a pale smear in the sky, as the bond pulsed beneath my skin—
I knew—
I wasn’t just here to burn him.
I was here to burn *with* him.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to survive the fire.
I wanted to *live* in it.