The silence after the kiss was different.
Not charged. Not tense. Not a battlefield of wills.
It was… quiet. A stillness that settled over the suite like fog, soft and unfamiliar. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the black marble floor. The scent of night and blood and something uniquely him lingered in the air, clinging to my skin, my clothes, the very breath in my lungs. My lips still burned from his touch—gentle, deliberate, a contrast to the hunger that had consumed us in the corridor. And I hadn’t pushed him away.
Worse—I hadn’t wanted to.
He sat beside me on the chaise now, close enough that our arms brushed, his presence a steady weight against my side. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just… there. The bond hummed between us, not with the usual flare of magic or desire, but with something deeper. Calmer. Like a heartbeat syncing, a storm finally finding its eye.
I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Because if I did, I’d see the truth in his eyes—the same truth that had shattered through my defenses in the ritual: that he wasn’t the monster I’d sworn to destroy. That he’d tried to save my mother. That he’d suffered too. That he wanted me—truly, fiercely, unapologetically—me.
And I no longer knew what I wanted.
“You should rest,” he said, voice low, rough. “You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
He didn’t argue. Just reached for the woolen robe still draped around my shoulders, tugging it tighter. His fingers brushed my collarbone. The bond flared—just once, warm and deep—and I didn’t flinch.
“You’re not fine,” he said. “You’re trembling.”
I was. My hands, my legs, the very core of me. Not from cold. Not from fear.
From surrender.
From the terrifying, undeniable realization that I’d stopped fighting.
“I just need time,” I whispered. “To think. To breathe.”
“Then take it,” he said. “But don’t run from me again. Not like that.”
I looked down at my hands—pale, calloused, still stained with dried blood from the fight. The ring on my finger pulsed faintly, a living thing fused to my skin. A leash. A tether. A promise.
“I’m not running,” I said. “I’m just… lost.”
He didn’t answer. Just shifted, his arm sliding around my back, pulling me gently against him. I stiffened—instinct, reflex, the last remnant of resistance—but he didn’t force it. Just held me, his warmth seeping through the fabric, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
And slowly, against every vow I’d ever made, I relaxed.
I didn’t lean into him. Didn’t wrap my arms around him. But I didn’t pull away.
And that was enough.
Minutes passed. The fire dimmed. The shadows grew longer.
Then—
He spoke.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
My breath caught.
“I’ve spent my whole life carrying it,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “The grief. The rage. The mission. I swore I’d make them pay. That I’d burn it all down.”
“And have you?”
“Not yet.”
“Then maybe you don’t have to,” he said. “Maybe you don’t have to carry it alone.”
I looked up at him. “You’d help me?”
“Not for revenge,” he said. “For justice. For your mother. For us.”
And in that moment, I believed him.
Not because he was charming. Not because he was persuasive.
Because I could feel it—through the bond, through his touch, through the way his heart beat against mine.
He wasn’t my enemy.
He was my partner.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure whether that was salvation… or damnation.
I didn’t answer. Just closed my eyes, letting the weight of his arm, the warmth of his body, the hum of the bond anchor me in a world that had just tilted off its axis.
And then—
A knock.
Not soft. Not cautious.
Hard. Insistent.
Kael didn’t move. Just turned his head, voice low. “Enter.”
The door opened. A vampire servant—pale, expressionless—wheeled in a cart laden with food: roasted venison, blood-orange compote, dark bread, a carafe of water. No wine.
“Dinner, my lady,” the servant said, bowing.
“Leave it,” I said.
They did. The door shut. I waited—counted to fifty—then moved to the cart. Sniffed the food. Tested it with a drop of blood from my fingertip. No reaction. Safe.
Kael watched me, his obsidian eyes unreadable. “You don’t trust anyone.”
“I didn’t used to,” I said, pouring water into a glass. “Now I don’t know who to trust. Not you. Not Riven. Not even myself.”
“Then trust the bond,” he said. “It doesn’t lie.”
“It doesn’t have a choice,” I said. “It’s magic. Instinct. It doesn’t care about truth. It only wants to survive.”
“So do we,” he said. “And right now, the bond is the only thing keeping us alive.”
I didn’t answer. Just ate slowly, every bite a battle. My mind raced—plans forming, failing, reforming. I needed the contract. I needed proof. I needed to know what Kael wasn’t telling me.
And I needed to survive the night.
After dinner, I changed into dry clothes—dark trousers, a high-collared tunic, sturdy boots. Practical. Ready. I washed my face, braided my hair, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.
Hours passed.
The torches dimmed. The room grew colder.
Then—
The door opened.
Kael stepped in, dressed in black, his hair slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his hands through it. He froze when he saw me.
“You’re dressed,” he said.
“Observant,” I said.
He closed the door, locking it. “You could have slept.”
“I don’t sleep with enemies in the room.”
“Then you’ll be tired tomorrow.”
“I’ll manage.”
He moved to the far side of the bed, pulling back the covers. “You take the left. I’ll take the right. We don’t touch. We don’t speak. We survive the night. Understood?”
“Crystal.”
I stood, walking around to the other side. The mattress dipped as I sat. The sheets were cold. The air between us was charged.
We lay down.
Backs to each other.
Silence.
And then—
The bond flared.
A sudden, searing heat shot through my body, low in my belly, spreading like wildfire. I gasped, rolling onto my side—
And collided with him.
He’d turned too.
Our faces were inches apart. His breath was cool against my lips. His eyes, in the dim light, were wide, startled. The bond surged again, stronger this time, a pulse of raw, unfiltered desire that wasn’t mine alone.
I could feel his want. His hunger. His restraint.
“Control it,” he growled, voice rough.
“I *am*,” I lied, my body trembling.
He reached out, gripping my wrist—his touch like ice and fire. “The bond—it reacts to proximity. To emotion. To *arousal*.”
“Then maybe you should sleep somewhere else.”
“Can’t,” he said, his thumb brushing my pulse point. “Storm Sickness. Remember?”
Our eyes locked.
The air between us crackled.
And then, slowly, he released my wrist.
“Turn over,” he said.
“What?”
“Turn over. Back to back. It’ll help.”
I hesitated—then did as he said.
We lay there, rigid, the bond still humming, but quieter now. The heat receded, though the tension didn’t.
Minutes passed.
Then—
His voice, low, in the dark.
“Tide.”
“What.”
“When this is over… if we both survive… what will you do?”
I didn’t answer at first. Then, softly: “I’ll burn it all down.”
He was silent for a long time.
Then, just as I thought he’d fallen asleep—
“You’ll need help.”
I didn’t respond.
But in the darkness, I smiled.
Not because I trusted him.
But because for the first time, I wasn’t sure he was lying.
Dawn broke in grays and violets, the sky still bruised from the storm. I woke with a gasp, bolting upright in bed, my heart hammering, my skin slick with sweat. The ring on my finger pulsed—once, twice—like a heartbeat out of sync. The bond hummed beneath my skin, warm, insistent, almost… soothing.
I hated that.
I hated that even in fear, in grief, in the raw ache of missing her, the bond offered comfort. That it reached for Kael, as if he could anchor me when the world was falling apart.
But he wasn’t here.
The other side of the bed was empty. Cold. The sheets were untouched. He hadn’t slept beside me.
I didn’t know whether to feel relief… or betrayal.
The suite was silent, the fire reduced to embers, the torches dim. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet meeting cold marble. My body ached—not from violence, not from magic, but from the emotional war I’d fought all night. The kiss. The tears. Riven’s warning. Kael’s arms around me, his voice in my ear, the way I’d let myself feel.
I couldn’t afford to feel.
Not yet.
I stood, moving to the wardrobe, pulling out the clothes Riven had brought—dark trousers, a high-collared tunic, sturdy boots. Practical. Ready. I dressed in silence, each movement stiff, mechanical. My hair I braided tightly, pulling it back from my face. I needed to look like a weapon. Not a woman. Not a lover. Not a daughter.
Just a storm.
A knock at the door.
I tensed, magic coiling in my palms. “Enter.”
The door opened. Not a servant. Not Riven.
Kael.
He stepped in, dressed in black, his circlet absent, his hair slightly tousled, as if he’d been awake for hours. His eyes—obsidian, unreadable—flicked over me, lingering on the braid, the boots, the way my hands were clenched at my sides.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“So are you,” I replied, voice flat.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. Just stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I was in the war room. Reviewing old archives. There are gaps in the records—around the time your mother was taken.”
My breath caught. “You’re looking into it?”
“I’m not your enemy, Tide,” he said, stepping closer. “Not anymore.”
“You were last night,” I shot back. “You locked me in that chamber. You kissed me like I was yours.”
“And you let me,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t stop me. You didn’t want to.”
“That doesn’t mean I belong to you.”
“No,” he said. “It means you’re starting to see me. Not as a monster. Not as your mother’s jailer. But as someone who wants to fix this.”
I looked away. “You can’t fix what’s already broken.”
“Then let’s break it again,” he said. “Let’s burn it all down. But this time, together.”
I turned back to him. “Why? Why would you help me?”
He hesitated. Just a fraction. But I saw it. The crack in his armor. The guilt. The grief.
“Because I failed her,” he said quietly. “And I won’t fail you.”
My chest ached.
Not from anger. Not from hatred.
From something worse.
Hope.And I couldn’t afford hope.
“You should’ve said that before,” I said, voice breaking. “Before the bond. Before the lies. Before I started wondering if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the one I should hate.”
He stepped closer, his hand lifting, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Then let me say it now. Let me prove it.”
The bond flared—warm, deep, aching. My breath hitched. My body leaned into his touch without permission.
And I hated that I didn’t pull away.
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I whispered.
“Then let me show you,” he said.
He turned, walking to the wardrobe. From behind a false panel—something I hadn’t noticed before—he pulled out a leather-bound journal, its cover cracked with age, the spine etched with faded silver runes.
My breath stopped.
It was my mother’s.
I’d recognize it anywhere. She’d written in it every night, whispering spells, recording visions, mapping the stars. I’d hidden it after her death, too sacred to read, too painful to burn.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“It was in my father’s private vault,” he said, handing it to me. “I found it last night. Hidden beneath a false floorboard, sealed with blood magic. I didn’t open it. I knew it was yours.”
I took it, my fingers trembling as I traced the runes. The leather was warm. Alive. And beneath it—faint, but unmistakable—her magic. Her scent. Her soul.
“Why would he have this?” I asked, tears burning my eyes. “Why keep it?”
“I don’t know,” Kael said. “But I think it holds answers. About the bond. About her. About… me.”
I looked up at him. “You’re giving this to me? Just like that?”
“I’m not giving it,” he said. “I’m returning it. And I’m asking you to let me read it with you. To find the truth—together.”
I stared at him. At the journal. At the man who had once been my enemy, who had once been my captor, who had now given me the one thing I’d thought lost forever.
And I didn’t know whether to kiss him… or kill him.
“Sit,” he said, guiding me to the chaise near the hearth. “Let’s open it together.”
I hesitated—then did as he said.
He sat beside me, close enough that our arms brushed, his presence a steady weight against my side. I placed the journal on my lap, my fingers hovering over the clasp. My heart pounded. My breath came fast.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
Together, we opened it.
The first page was blank. The second—dated twenty-five years ago—bore a single line, written in my mother’s elegant script:
“He came to me tonight. Not as a master. Not as a monster. But as a boy. He brought me water. He called me Elara.”
My breath caught.
Elara.
Her name.
The name no one had spoken since she died.
“You knew her name,” I whispered, looking at Kael. “You called her that in the memory.”
He nodded. “I did. I was the only one who ever did. The others called her ‘the witch.’ ‘the slave.’ ‘the storm.’ But I… I saw her. I saw you in her. The fire. The defiance. The way she wouldn’t break.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“Go on,” he said softly.
I turned the page.
“He came again. Left bread this time. Warm. Fresh. Said his father wouldn’t notice. I told him not to risk it. He said he had to. Said he couldn’t stand to see me suffer. I asked him his name. He told me. I won’t write it here. Not yet. But I think… I think he’s different.”
My hands trembled.
He’d risked everything. For her.
For a prisoner.
For a woman he barely knew.
“You were seventeen,” I said, voice breaking. “You were just a boy.”
“And I was powerless,” he said. “But I wasn’t heartless.”
I turned the page.
“They took me today. Moved me to a deeper cell. I don’t know why. But before they did, he found me. Pressed this journal into my hands. Told me to write. To remember. To survive. I asked him to run. To leave. He said he couldn’t. That the bond would kill him. I didn’t understand. Not then. But I do now. The bond isn’t just magic. It’s fate. And it’s coming for her. For Tide. I can feel it. And when it does… he’ll be the only one who can save her.”
I froze.
“What?” I whispered, looking at Kael. “She knew? She knew about the bond?”
He was pale. Shaken. “I didn’t know she’d written this. I didn’t know she’d seen it.”
“She said you’d save me,” I said, voice trembling. “She said you were the only one.”
He didn’t answer. Just reached for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive.
I turned the page.
“They’re coming for her. I can feel it. The bond is waking. And when it does, they’ll try to break it. They’ll try to kill him. But she mustn’t. She mustn’t destroy the bond. It’s the only thing that can free me. The only thing that can break the curse. Find the name, Tide. Find the name buried in blood. It’s the key.”
I looked up at Kael, tears streaming down my face. “The name. The one he never speaks. That’s what she meant.”
“And the one buried in blood,” he said, voice low. “I think… I think it’s mine.”
“What?”
“Not Kael,” he said. “That’s the name my father gave me. The one he forced on me. But my birth name… it’s something else. Something he erased. Something I haven’t spoken in over two centuries.”
“What is it?” I asked, heart pounding.
He hesitated. Then, softly: “Elion.”
The moment he said it, the bond roared.
Not a surge. Not a spark.
A tsunami.
Fire ripped through my veins. Lightning crackled over my skin. The journal flew from my lap, pages fluttering like wings. The ring on my finger blazed—hot, then cold, then hot again. And then—
I was no longer in the suite.
I was in her mind.
My mother.
She stood in the dungeon, the journal in her hands, her storm-gray eyes blazing with power. She was writing—furious, desperate—and as she wrote, the words glowed, rising from the page like smoke, forming a sigil in the air.
And at the center of it—his name.
Elion.
She whispered it like a prayer. Like a spell. Like a key turning in a lock.
And then—
The sigil flared.
The dungeon shook.
And the bond—ancient, cursed, chained—shattered.
I gasped, staggering back, but the vision held me, binding me in a way that wasn’t just physical.
It was truth.
“She knew,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “She knew the bond could free her. That it could break the curse. That you could save her.”
Kael—no, Elion—reached for me, his hands gripping my arms. “I didn’t know,” he said, voice raw. “I didn’t know she’d written this. I didn’t know she’d seen it. But now I do. And now we have a choice.”
“What choice?” I asked.
“To destroy the bond,” he said. “Or to use it.”
“Use it how?”
“To break the curse,” he said. “To free her soul. To burn my father to ash.”
I stared at him. At the man who had once been my enemy. At the boy who had brought my mother water. At the man who had whispered her name like a prayer.
And I didn’t know whether to hate him… or claim him.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said, voice hoarse.
“Neither are you,” he said.
And then—
I kissed him.
Not like before. Not angry. Not desperate.
Soft.
Slow.
Real.
His lips were cool, but the kiss was fire. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The bond roared to life, a tidal wave of sensation—her voice, her magic, her love, flooding through us like a river breaking its banks.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
For the first time, I didn’t run.
For the first time, I let myself believe—
That maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t come here to destroy him.
Maybe I’d come here to save him.
And in saving him… save myself.
He pulled back, his thumb brushing my cheek. “We’ll find the truth,” he said. “Together.”
“Together,” I whispered.
And as the first light of dawn broke through the drapes, painting the room in gold and shadow, I knew—
The mission hadn’t changed.
The enemy hadn’t changed.
But I had.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.