The dream came again.
Not a memory. Not quite. But something deeper—older. A whisper in the blood, a shadow in the bones. I stood in the Eclipse Chamber, the air thick with incense and power, the sigils on the floor glowing like veins beneath stone. My mother knelt at the altar, her hands raised, the Black Sigil pulsing at her throat. She was chanting—words I couldn’t understand, a language lost to time. And then—
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Not Kaelen.
Someone else. Cloaked. Faceless. But I *knew*—
He was the one.
The killer.
I tried to scream. Tried to move. But my feet were rooted. My voice, gone. All I could do was watch as he raised a blade—black, serrated, humming with dark magic—and drove it into her back.
She fell.
The Sigil shattered.
And then—
I woke.
Sweat-slicked. Gasping. My heart slamming against my ribs like a caged thing. The Mark of the Eclipse burned beneath my collar, a feverish pulse that matched the rhythm of my breath. I sat up fast, disoriented, my eyes darting around the room—obsidian walls, no windows, the second bed across the way, empty now.
Kaelen was gone.
I exhaled, shaky, and pressed a hand to my chest, willing my pulse to slow. It had been three days since the binding. Three days since I’d been chained to him by magic and mandate. Three days of forced proximity, of simmering tension, of nights spent lying awake while the bond hummed between us like a live wire.
And last night—
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Last night, he’d touched me. Not in violence. Not in possession. But in something worse—*comfort*. He’d knelt beside my bed, taken my hand, and let me hold on as the bond writhed inside me, showing me things I wasn’t ready to see. And I—
I’d *let* him.
Worse—I’d *laced my fingers with his*.
I swallowed hard, pushing the memory down. It meant nothing. The bond was manipulating us both, twisting emotion into something it wasn’t. Grief into longing. Hatred into… whatever *that* had been.
It wasn’t real.
It couldn’t be.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, pacing to the washbasin. My reflection stared back—pale, dark circles under my eyes, hair tangled from sleep. But my skin—
I leaned closer.
There. Just above my collarbone. The Mark of the Eclipse. Still glowing. Faint, but *there*. Not dormant anymore. Not hidden.
Awake.
Like me.
Like the magic in my blood.
I splashed cold water on my face, then dried it with a rough linen cloth. I needed focus. Clarity. The Council session was today—the first official vote since the binding. And if I was going to expose Kaelen, dismantle his alliance with the Summer Fae, and reclaim the Black Sigil, I needed leverage.
And I knew exactly where to start.
The silver case.
Kaelen hadn’t opened it in two centuries. But *I* would. And if my mother’s journal was inside—
A knock.
Soft. Deliberate.
I tensed. “What?”
“It’s Mira,” came the muffled voice. “I have the serum.”
I crossed the room and opened the door. My handmaiden slipped inside, her braid loose, her eyes sharp with urgency. She pressed a small vial into my palm—clear liquid, faintly shimmering. Truth serum, brewed from moonflower and vampire venom. One drop, and even the most guarded mind would unravel.
“You’re sure it works?” I asked.
“On witches, yes. On vampires—” She hesitated. “It’s weaker. But it’ll loosen his tongue. Make him *react*.”
I tucked the vial into the inner pocket of my jacket. “Good. I’ll need it at the Council session.”
She studied me. “You’re going through with it?”
“I have to.” I turned to the wardrobe, pulling out a high-collared black blouse and tailored trousers—practical, powerful, *mine*. “I didn’t come here to be bound. I came here to *burn* him.”
“And the bond?” she asked quietly. “The way you looked at him last night—”
“Was weakness,” I snapped. “And it won’t happen again.”
She didn’t argue. Just handed me a pair of leather gloves—enchanted, to dampen magical signatures. “Be careful. The bond will react if you lie. If you *feel* too much.”
“Then I won’t feel,” I said, pulling them on. “Not until it’s over.”
She nodded, but her eyes said she didn’t believe me.
Neither did I.
The Council Hall was already half-full when we arrived.
Chandeliers of frozen moonlight hung above, casting long shadows across the black marble. The twelve thrones loomed in a semicircle, each marked with the sigil of its species. Vampires in velvet and silver. Werewolves in furs and bone. Fae in illusion-woven silk. Witches in ink-stained linen.
And at the center—Kaelen.
He sat in the Dominion throne, back straight, hands resting on the armrests, his expression unreadable. His hair was slicked back, his tunic black as void, the D’Vire crest etched into the silver clasp at his throat. He didn’t look at me as I entered. Didn’t acknowledge me at all.
But I felt him.
The bond pulsed—a low, insistent throb beneath my ribs. His presence was a weight in my chest, a cold fire in my veins. And when I took my seat—forced to sit beside him, per Council decree—his knee brushed mine.
Electric.
I jerked away.
He turned his head, just slightly. A ghost of a smirk. “Nervous, little witch?”
“Disgusted,” I said, voice low. “And don’t call me that.”
“You’re bound to me,” he murmured. “I’ll call you whatever I want.”
“You’re not my master.”
“Aren’t I?” His gaze dropped to my collar, where the Mark of the Eclipse peeked above the fabric. “You’re marked. You’re tethered. You *ache* for me. Deny it all you want—your body knows the truth.”
I clenched my jaw. “I came here to bury you. Not to be your pet.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Before I could answer, Lord Cassian rose, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “The session begins. First order: the ratification of the Dominion-Summer Fae alliance, contingent on the Eclipse Heir’s approval.”
My breath caught.
This was it.
The vote that would cement Kaelen’s power. The alliance that would give him control over the southern ley lines—the very ones that ran beneath the Eclipse Coven’s ruins.
If it passed, he’d have everything.
And I’d have nothing.
“Representatives,” Cassian continued, “you will cast your vote. Majority rules. The Eclipse Heir—bound or not—holds one vote. Her approval is required.”
All eyes turned to me.
I stood slowly, deliberately. “I oppose.”
A ripple of surprise. Kaelen didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just watched me, those molten gold eyes unreadable.
“On what grounds?” Cassian demanded.
“On the grounds that the alliance is built on lies,” I said, voice steady. “That the Summer Fae have long sought to erase the Eclipse Coven’s legacy. And that Kaelen D’Vire—” I turned to him “—has concealed evidence of my mother’s true killer.”
Gasps. Murmurs. The Fae diplomat, Lysara, narrowed her eyes.
Kaelen finally spoke. “And what evidence would that be?”
“The silver case,” I said. “The one you’ve kept sealed for two centuries. My mother’s journal is inside. And if you’re so innocent, why haven’t you opened it?”
“Because it’s warded,” he said smoothly. “And because some wounds should not be reopened.”
“Or,” I countered, “because you’re afraid of what it will reveal.”
“Enough,” Cassian snapped. “The vote stands. All in favor?”
Hands rose—vampires, fae, even one witch. Six. A tie.
All eyes turned to the werewolf Alpha, a broad-shouldered man with golden eyes and a scar across his cheek. He hesitated—then nodded.
“In favor.”
My stomach dropped.
It was over.
The alliance was ratified.
And I—
I had failed.
“The motion passes,” Cassian declared. “The Dominion and Summer Fae are now allied. The Eclipse Heir’s disapproval is noted—but overruled.”
I sat down, fists clenched, breath tight. I’d lost. But I wasn’t finished.
Not yet.
Not ever.
The moment the session ended, Kaelen was on his feet.
“You,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “My chambers. *Now*.”
I didn’t argue. Didn’t resist. I followed him through the winding corridors, Mira trailing behind, silent. The bond pulled between us, taut and hot, but I ignored it. Let him think he was in control. Let him believe he’d won.
He didn’t know what I was capable of.
Inside the D’Vire residence, the air was thick with tension. The fire in the hearth burned low, casting long shadows across the obsidian floor. Kaelen turned the moment the door closed, his eyes blazing.
“You think you can humiliate me in front of the Council?” he demanded.
“I think I can expose you,” I shot back. “And I will.”
“You’re a fool,” he said, stepping closer. “You think that little display was *power*? It was *petty*. And it changes nothing.”
“It changes *everything*,” I said. “Because now they know you’re hiding something.”
He laughed—cold, sharp. “And you think that matters? I am the High Sovereign. My word is law. And you—” He gripped my wrist, yanking me close. “You are *mine*. Bound. Marked. *Obedient*.”
I wrenched free. “I’ll never obey you.”
“Then you’ll learn.”
He moved fast—too fast. One hand clamped over my mouth, the other around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I struggled, kicking, but he was stronger, older, *relentless*. He carried me through the corridor, down a narrow stairwell, into a chamber I hadn’t seen before—walls lined with silver runes, the air thick with old magic.
A Blood Oath ritual room.
My blood turned to ice.
“No,” I mumbled against his hand.
He set me down, but didn’t release me. “You challenged me. You defied me. Now you will *submit*.”
“This is against Council law,” I said, voice shaking. “Forced blood-sharing is—”
“Not forced,” he said, fangs glinting in the dim light. “It’s *punishment*. And you’ve earned it.”
He pressed a hand to the wall. A panel slid open, revealing a silver chalice and a dagger. He took the dagger, drew it across his palm—once, clean—and let the blood drip into the chalice. Dark. Thick. *Alive*.
Then he turned to me.
“Drink,” he said.
I backed away. “No.”
“Drink,” he repeated, stepping closer. “Or I’ll make you.”
My heart pounded. The bond flared—hot, insistent. My body *wanted* it. Wanted *him*. But I wouldn’t give in. Not to this. Not to *him*.
He lunged.
I dodged, but he was faster. He caught me, pinned me against the wall, one hand fisted in my hair, the other pressing the chalice to my lips.
“Last chance,” he whispered.
I spat in his face.
He didn’t flinch. Just wiped it away with a slow, deliberate swipe of his thumb. Then he tilted my head back, forced the chalice between my lips, and *poured*.
The blood hit my tongue—cold, metallic, *electric*.
I tried to fight it. Tried to spit it out. But the bond *pulled*, drinking deep, *wanting* more. And then—
Fire.
Not pain. Not magic.
*Memory.*
I saw her—my mother—alive, laughing, her hand in Kaelen’s as they stood before the Eclipse altar. Not enemies. *Allies*. Then—blood. A knife. A scream. And Kaelen—*struggling*, bound by magic, *watching her fall*.
He hadn’t killed her.
He’d *tried to save her*.
The realization hit like a blade.
And then—
His fangs grazed my neck.
A whisper. A promise.
And my body—
Arch.
Press.
*Yield.*
I gasped, trembling, as the blood finished its path, sinking into my veins, into my soul.
Kaelen pulled back, watching me, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
“You felt that,” he murmured. “Don’t lie to me—or yourself.”
I couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t move.
All I could do was feel—
The bond, deeper now.
The truth, sharper.
And the terrifying, undeniable fact—
I wasn’t sure I wanted to destroy him anymore.
I was afraid I wanted to *keep* him.