The silence after the Council session was worse than shouting.
Not empty. Not peaceful. But charged—thick with the scent of blood and magic, with the echo of Lucien’s final laugh, with the weight of Orlanth’s ultimatum: Three days. Find the research. Break the curse. Prove the truth. Or be exiled.
And worse—Lucien had vanished. Not fled. Not retreated. Vanished. One moment he was there, blood on his lips, fury in his eyes. The next—gone, like smoke in the wind. He wasn’t running.
He was hunting.
I stood in the center of the Council chamber, the vial of Mira’s blood still clutched in my hand, the glass cold against my skin. The runes on the dais had dimmed, the torches flickering back to their usual red. The Council had dispersed—whispers slithering through the air, eyes sharp with suspicion, with greed, with fear. They hadn’t taken sides. Not yet. But they were watching. Waiting. Calculating.
And I was exposed.
Fae-touched. Witch-born. Hybrid abomination. The bond had confirmed my truth, but it hadn’t silenced the whispers. If anything, it had made them louder. The Fae nobles had watched me with cold, unreadable eyes. The witches had murmured behind their hands. The vampires—Lucien’s allies—had stared with open contempt.
And I didn’t care.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t fighting alone.
Kaelen stood beside me, his presence a wall of heat and power, his golden eyes scanning the chamber, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitch. He hadn’t spoken since Lucien disappeared. Hadn’t moved. Just stood there, silent, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger, his scent—pine, iron, wolf—filling the air.
And when he finally turned to me—
His eyes burned into mine.
“We need to move,” he said, voice low. “Now.”
“Where?”
“The vault.”
My breath caught. “You’re letting me in?”
“I’m not letting you,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m taking you. Together. Because if Lucien has the research, he’ll have hidden it where only I can access it. And if he hasn’t—”
“Then it’s still there.”
“Yes.”
I didn’t hesitate. Just nodded. “Then let’s go.”
We left the chamber without another word, the silence between us heavy, but not tense. Not anymore. The fight in the Council had changed something. Not just between us and Lucien. Between us. He hadn’t silenced me. Hadn’t stopped me from accusing Lucien. Hadn’t protected me by force—he’d let me fight. Let me speak. Let me lead.
And that terrified me more than any blade, any curse, any lie.
Because it meant he trusted me.
And worse—I trusted him.
The vault was deep beneath the estate—carved from black stone, guarded by enchanted seals and blood wards. No Enforcers. No witches. No Fae. Just silence. And power.
Kaelen stopped at the door—a massive slab of iron, etched with runes that pulsed faintly. He placed his palm against the center, and the stone trembled, the runes flaring gold. A deep, resonant click echoed through the corridor, and the door slid open, revealing a narrow passage lit by witch-fire orbs.
“Stay close,” he said, stepping inside.
I did.
The passage twisted downward, the air growing colder, thicker. The walls were lined with shelves—ancient tomes, sealed scrolls, vials of preserved magic. And at the center of the chamber, a single pedestal stood, its surface covered in Fae sigils that glowed faintly.
“This is where he’d hide it,” I said, stepping forward. “If he stole it, he’d want it close. Protected. But not obvious.”
Kaelen nodded. “Check the shelves. I’ll take the pedestal.”
We worked in silence, our movements precise, our focus sharp. I ran my fingers along the spines of the tomes, checking for hidden compartments, for false bindings, for anything that didn’t belong. My magic hummed beneath my skin, the sigils on my wrist pulsing faintly, reacting to the energy in the air.
And then—
I felt it.
A tremor. Not in the air. Not in the stone.
In the bond.
It flared—golden light bleeding through my skin, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. My breath hitched. My core clenched.
“Kaelen,” I said, voice low.
He turned, his golden eyes blazing. “What?”
“The bond—”
And then—
The door slammed shut.
Not slowly. Not with a click.
Slammed—like a trap closing.
And the torches dimmed.
And the air shifted.
And he was there.
Lucien.
He stood in the center of the chamber, dressed in black silk, his glass of bloodwine in hand, his smile sharp. “Looking for something?” he purred.
My breath caught.
Kaelen moved—fast, inhumanly fast—but Lucien was faster. One flick of his wrist, and Kaelen was thrown back, crashing into the wall, pinned by an invisible force.
“Don’t,” Lucien said, voice smooth. “Or I’ll snap her neck before you can blink.”
Kaelen snarled, his fangs bared, his wolf roaring, but he didn’t move. Just stood there, rigid, his golden eyes blazing.
Lucien turned to me, his smile widening. “Ebony. My dear. You’ve been busy.”
“You’re pathetic,” I said, voice low. “You think trapping us in a vault makes you powerful?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I think this does.”
He held up a scroll—aged, cracked, the edges singed. My breath caught.
Mira’s research.
The real one.
“You stole it,” I said.
“I retrieved it,” he corrected. “Before you could destroy it. Before you could use it to break the curse.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you care,” he said, stepping closer. “About him. About the bond. About us.”
“I don’t care about you.”
“Liar,” he said, smiling. “You care about him. And that makes you weak.”
My breath came short. My core clenched. The sigils on my wrist flared—golden light racing up my arms.
“And so,” he said, stepping closer, “I’m going to offer you a deal.”
“I don’t make deals with murderers.”
“Then you’ll die,” he said, voice cold. “And he’ll die with you. Or—”
He held up the scroll. “—you take this. Use it to break the curse. Save him. But in return—”
“What?”
“You swear a blood pact. To me. To protect the truth. To keep the research hidden. To let me walk free.”
My stomach dropped.
A blood pact. Sealed by kiss or bite. Could transfer power, memories, or curses. And once given, it was binding. Unbreakable.
“You’re insane,” I said.
“Am I?” He stepped closer. “Or am I the only one who sees the truth? That if you break the curse, Kaelen will become unstoppable. That he’ll destroy the Council. That he’ll burn Avalon to the ground.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t he?” Lucien said, smiling. “You’ve seen him in rage. You’ve felt his power. You’ve felt the bond when it’s unstable. What do you think will happen when the curse is gone? When nothing holds him back?”
My breath caught.
Because I didn’t know.
And that terrified me more than any blade, any curse, any lie.
“So,” Lucien said, stepping closer. “The deal. Take the research. Break the curse. But swear the pact. Or I burn it. And you both die.”
I didn’t answer. Just stared at him, my heart pounding, my body trembling.
And then—
The bond flared—hot, violent. Golden light exploded across my skin, racing up my arms, my spine, my chest. My magic crackled in the air. My core clenched.
Lucien smiled. “You feel that,” he said. “That’s the bond. And it’s not just magic. It’s hunger. And it’s not going to be denied.”
“I’m not making a pact with you,” I said, voice raw.
“Then watch him die,” he said, raising the scroll.
And then—
Kaelen moved.
Not fast. Not strong.
Desperate.
He broke free of the invisible force, lunging forward, but Lucien was ready. One flick of his wrist, and Kaelen was thrown back, crashing into the pedestal, the Fae sigils flaring red.
And then—
Lucien stepped forward, his hand closing around my wrist.
“No—”
Too late.
He pulled me close, his mouth at my neck, his fangs grazing my pulse. “Say the words,” he whispered. “Swear the pact. Or I’ll make you.”
My breath came short. My skin burned. My core clenched.
And then—
He bit me.
Not deep. Not to kill.
But enough.
Blood welled—dark, rich, alive—and dripped down my neck. The bond screamed—golden light exploding across my skin, racing up my arms, my spine, my chest. Magic crackled in the air. The torches roared.
And then—
It hit me.
A curse.
Not physical. Not magical.
Emotional.
Despair. Hopelessness. The certainty that I would fail. That I would lose. That I would never save Kaelen. That I would never avenge Mira. That I would never be free.
It flooded my mind, my body, my soul. I gasped, my knees buckling, my vision blurring. The sigils on my wrist dimmed, the golden light fading to a faint glow.
“Say the words,” Lucien whispered, his mouth at my ear. “Swear the pact. Or I’ll make you suffer.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t fight.
And then—
Hands.
Strong. Warm. His.
Kaelen was there, pulling me into his arms, his chest against my back, his hands cradling my face. “Look at me,” he growled. “Look at me, Ebony.”
I did.
His golden eyes burned into mine, fierce, unyielding. “You’re not weak,” he said. “You’re not broken. You’re mine. And I’m not letting you go.”
The curse wavered.
But it didn’t break.
“You feel that?” he murmured, his mouth at my ear. “That’s the bond. And it’s not just magic. It’s truth. You want me. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“I’m not—”
“Liar.”
The word hit me like a slap. And then—
He kissed me.
Not soft. Not deep.
Claiming.
His mouth crashed against mine, his tongue forcing my lips apart, his hands gripping my face, holding me in place. The bond screamed—golden light exploding between us, magic crackling, the witch-fire orbs roaring.
And then—
The curse broke.
Not slowly. Not gently.
Shattered.
Like glass. Like lies. Like chains.
I gasped, my body arching, my core clenching. The sigils on my wrist flared—golden light racing up my arms, my spine, my chest. My magic crackled in the air.
Kaelen broke the kiss slowly, reluctantly, his breath hot against my lips. “You feel that?” he murmured. “That’s not hate. That’s need. And it’s not going to be denied.”
I didn’t answer. Just turned and attacked.
Not with magic. Not with words.
With truth.
I lunged at Lucien, my hands flying to his throat, my nails raking his skin. “You don’t get to control me!” I screamed. “You don’t get to curse me! You don’t get to use me!”
He laughed—cold, sharp. “You’re weak,” he said. “You always were.”
“No,” I said, shoving him back. “I’m not. And I’m not afraid of you.”
He stepped back, his smile fading. “Then prove it.”
And then—
He was gone.
Vanished.
Like smoke.
And the scroll—
Gone with him.
Silence.
Kaelen stepped forward, his hand finding mine. Our fingers laced. The bond hummed—warm, steady, alive.
“He’ll come back,” I said, voice low.
“Yes,” Kaelen said. “But he won’t win.”
“Because we have the truth.”
“And the bond knows it.”
I turned to him, my eyes dark, fierce. “We need to move. Lucien knows we’re close. He’ll try to stop us.”
“Then let him,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“I am,” I said. “Not for me. For us.”
He stilled. His eyes searched mine. “You care.”
“I do,” I said. “And I’m not hiding it anymore.”
He didn’t answer. Just pulled me into his arms, holding me against his chest, his breath warm against my neck. The bond hummed between us, warm and steady, no longer screaming, no longer demanding.
Just being.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to run.
I just wanted to stay.
And when he whispered, low and final:
“You’re mine,”
I didn’t argue.
I just nodded.
Because I already was.
And I didn’t hate it.
I just wanted him.
And I was going to break the curse.
Even if it destroyed me.