The moment our fingers touched, the bond *sang*.
Not a flare. Not a jolt. But a deep, resonant hum—like a bow drawn across the string of a cello, rich and low and *alive*. It wasn’t just magic. It wasn’t just need. It was *recognition*. As if the bond itself had been waiting for this—this small, fragile act of trust, this quiet surrender.
I didn’t pull away.
Couldn’t.
Because for the first time since I’d stepped into the Midnight Accord, I didn’t feel like a prisoner. Didn’t feel like a pawn. Didn’t feel like a weapon aimed at his heart.
I felt… seen.
Kaelen’s hand tightened around mine, just once. A silent acknowledgment. A promise. And then—
He let go.
“Sleep,” he said, voice rough. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I nodded, throat too tight to speak, and stepped into my chamber. Locked the door. Leaned against it, heart pounding, breath shallow. The Mark of the Eclipse pulsed beneath my collar, warm and steady, as if it, too, had settled.
I stripped off my jacket, my blouse, anything that carried his scent, anything that reminded me of his touch. But this time, I didn’t throw them into the corner. I folded them. Placed them neatly on the wardrobe. As if I were trying to convince myself that I was still in control.
As if I weren’t already falling.
I lay down, fully clothed, back stiff, eyes on the ceiling. The bond hummed beneath my ribs, a second heartbeat, his rhythm. And for the first time, I didn’t fight it. Didn’t resist. Just let it *be*.
I thought of my mother’s journal. Her words—“Trust Kaelen. Not because he’s innocent. But because he’s the only one who can help you destroy Cassian.”
And now—
The Black Sigil had *recognized* me. Not through blood. Not through magic. But through *fate*.
I was the Eclipse Heir.
And if I was going to claim my throne, I couldn’t do it alone.
I needed him.
Not as a weapon. Not as a shield.
But as my *equal*.
And that—
That terrified me more than any battle ever had.
—
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, dawn was bleeding through the enchanted glass of my window—pale gold, fractured by the ley lines beneath the city. The air was cool, still thick with the scent of stone and old magic. The bond pulsed, low and steady, but quieter now. Calmer.
I sat up slowly, joints stiff, mind foggy. The events of the night rushed back—the kiss, the Ward Room, the surge of power, the way time had *slowed* when my fingers brushed the sigil. The way Kaelen had looked at me afterward—like I was something sacred. Something *his*.
I pressed a hand to my chest, where the Mark of the Eclipse still glowed faintly. I wasn’t the same woman who had walked into this place three days ago. I had come to bury him. To destroy him. To take back what was mine.
But now—
I wasn’t sure I wanted to destroy him anymore.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to take back what was mine—unless he was part of it.
I stood, paced to the washbasin, splashed cold water on my face. My reflection stared back—pale, dark circles under my eyes, lips still slightly swollen from his kiss. I looked… different. Softer. Weaker. But also—stronger. As if something inside me had cracked open, letting in light I hadn’t known existed.
I changed into a fresh blouse—black, high-collared, practical—and pulled on my boots. I needed to see the Black Sigil. Needed to touch it. To feel its power, to confirm what I already knew. But I couldn’t do it alone. Not yet. Not without Kaelen.
And I couldn’t face him without answers.
I opened the door, stepped into the main chamber—
And froze.
She was there.
Standing in the center of the room, bathed in the pale light of dawn, wearing nothing but Kaelen’s black silk shirt. Her hair—long, silver-blonde—cascaded over one shoulder, framing a face of sharp, fae beauty: high cheekbones, full lips, eyes the color of winter ice. The shirt hung open at the collar, revealing smooth, pale skin—and a fresh bite mark on her throat, dark and glistening, still oozing faintly.
My breath caught.
My pulse roared.
The bond *screamed*.
Not pain. Not magic.
*Jealousy*.
“Well,” she said, voice like velvet and poison, “if it isn’t the little witch who thinks she’s a queen.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at the bite mark. At the way her fingers toyed with the top button of the shirt. At the way she stood—confident, *possessive*, like she had every right to be here.
“Lira Nox,” I said, voice flat. “Kaelen’s *ex*.”
She smiled. Slow. Dangerous. “Ex? Oh, darling. I’m far more than that.” She stepped closer, her bare feet silent on the obsidian floor. “I’m the one who shares his bed. The one who drinks from his wrist. The one who *moans his name in the dark*.”
My stomach twisted.
“He told me he didn’t want you,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “That you were nothing to him.”
“Did he?” She laughed, low and melodic. “How sweet. But men lie, don’t they? Especially when they’re trying to convince themselves of something.” She reached up, traced the bite mark with one finger. “He marked me last night. Right here. And he *called my name*.”
“You’re lying,” I snapped.
“Am I?” She turned her head, offering me a better view. “Then why is it still bleeding? Why does it still *hurt*? Why does his scent still cling to my skin?” She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes. “Gods, he smells *divine*. Like cold fire and old blood. You must know—after all, you’ve been *carried* by him, haven’t you? Held in his arms? Felt his fangs on your neck?”
My hands clenched.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Oh, I do.” She stepped closer, until we were inches apart. “I know exactly what he’s like in bed. How he takes his time. How he *teases*. How he bites just hard enough to make you *scream*.” Her breath was warm against my ear. “And I know he hasn’t claimed you. Not really. Because if he had, you’d be *marked*. Just like me.”
I flinched.
She saw it. Smiled.
“Ah,” she purred. “There it is. The little witch has a heart after all.”
“Get out,” I said, voice low, dangerous.
“Or what?” She tilted her head. “You’ll tell him? Oh, he already knows I’m here. In fact—” She turned, gestured to the corridor. “He’s just finishing his morning blood ritual. Said he’d meet me in his chambers after.”
My breath caught.
“You’re lying,” I whispered.
“Am I?” She reached into the pocket of the shirt—*his* shirt—and pulled out a small, silver ring. The D’Vire crest etched into the band. “He gave me this last night. Said I was the only one who truly understood him.”
My vision blurred.
The bond *pulled*—sharp, insistent, a knife twisting in my chest. My magic surged, the Mark of the Eclipse flaring hot against my skin. I could feel him—Kaelen—somewhere in the residence, his presence a cold fire in my veins. But I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. All I could see was her. Her skin. Her scent. His *shirt*.
And the bite mark.
“You don’t belong here,” I said, voice shaking. “You’re not his bondmate. You’re not his *queen*.”
“And you are?” She laughed. “You’re a half-blood. A *bastard*. The Council will never accept you. But me? I’m pureblood. Ancient. *Deserving*.” She stepped closer, until her breath was hot against my lips. “And I’ll take everything from you. His bed. His throne. His *heart*. And when I do, I’ll make sure he forgets you ever existed.”
I didn’t think.
I just moved.
My hand shot out, fisted in the front of the shirt, yanking her forward. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hissed. “You don’t know *him*.”
She didn’t flinch. Just smiled. “Oh, but I do. And so will you—when he chooses me over you.”
“He won’t.”
“Won’t he?” She reached up, gently pried my fingers from the fabric. “Then why hasn’t he marked you? Why hasn’t he claimed you? Why hasn’t he—”
The door to the corridor opened.
We both turned.
Kaelen stood there, backlit by the dim light, his hair slightly tousled, his tunic half-buttoned, his expression unreadable. His eyes—those molten gold irises—flicked from me to Lira, then back to me.
And then—
They darkened.
“Lira,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “I told you to leave.”
She smiled, slow, seductive. “You also told me to wait for you. In your chambers. In your *bed*.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Did you?” She stepped toward him, hips swaying, the shirt slipping off one shoulder. “Because I can still feel your teeth on my skin. Still taste your blood on my tongue. Still hear you—” She leaned in, whispered something in his ear.
I couldn’t hear it.
But I saw his jaw tighten.
Saw his hands clench.
Saw the way his fangs *dropped*.
And then—
He shoved her back.
“Get out,” he said, voice a whip. “Now. Or I’ll have you thrown into the Obsidian Pit.”
She stumbled, caught herself, her smile faltering for the first time. “Kaelen—”
“*Now*.”
She looked at me—hate blazing in her eyes—then turned and walked out, the door slamming behind her.
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. *Charged*.
Kaelen didn’t look at me. Just stood there, back rigid, hands clenched at his sides, breathing slow and controlled. The bond pulsed between us—hot, insistent, *angry*.
“You let her wear your shirt,” I said, voice flat.
“I didn’t,” he said. “She stole it.”
“And the bite mark?”
“She attacked me last night. I defended myself.”
“And the ring?”
“She forged it.”
“Convenient.”
He turned, finally, those golden eyes locking onto mine. “You think I’d give her a D’Vire ring? That I’d *mark* her? After everything?”
“I don’t know what to think,” I said, voice breaking. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
He stepped closer. “The only thing that’s real is *this*.” He reached out, brushed his thumb over the Mark of the Eclipse. “You’re *mine*. Not her. Not Cassian. Not the Council. *Mine*.”
“Then why hasn’t you marked me?” I whispered. “Why haven’t you claimed me?”
He stilled.
Then—
He cupped my face, his touch cold, gentle. “Because I want you to *choose* me. Not because of the bond. Not because of magic. But because you *want* to.”
My breath caught.
“And if I do?”
“Then I’ll mark you,” he said, voice rough. “And I’ll never let you go.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not hard. Not angry. But *soft*—a press of lips, a whisper of want, a promise. My hands fisted in his tunic, pulling him closer. The bond flared, warm and alive, a pulse of heat that made me gasp.
And then—
A knock.
Sharp. Insistent.
The door.
We broke apart.
“Kaelen,” came Silas’s voice, muffled. “It’s urgent.”
Kaelen exhaled, long and slow, then pressed his forehead to mine. “Later,” he murmured. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” I said, stepping back.
He turned, opened the door just enough to speak. I couldn’t hear the exchange—just low murmurs, Silas’s neutral tone, Kaelen’s clipped responses. Then the door closed.
He turned back to me.
“Cassian’s calling a Council emergency,” he said, voice tight. “He knows about the Ward Room. About the surge. He’s going to demand a loyalty test.”
My stomach dropped.
“A test?”
“To prove you’re truly Eclipse. To prove the bond isn’t a fraud.”
I stared at him. “And if I fail?”
“Then they’ll declare you an imposter. And they’ll kill you.”
The bond *pulled*—sharp, insistent, a knife twisting in my chest.
But this time, I didn’t fight it.
Because I knew—
I wasn’t the imposter.
I was the heir.
And I was ready.
“Then let them test me,” I said, lifting my chin. “Because I’m not afraid.”
He studied me—those golden eyes searching, *testing*—then nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not either.”
And then—
He reached for my hand.
And laced his fingers with mine.
The bond didn’t flare.
It *sang*.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to destroy him.
I wanted to *keep* him.
And I would.
No matter the cost.