The air still hums.
Not with magic. Not with the crackle of torchlight or the low burn of the hearth. But with us. The echo of torn fabric, of ragged breath, of skin meeting skin. My palms are still flat against Kaelen’s chest, his heartbeat thudding beneath my fingers like a war drum. His hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, his golden eyes burning into mine with something I can’t name—something raw, stripped bare, like the bond has peeled back every lie and left only this: the truth.
And the truth is—
I didn’t stop him.
I didn’t pull away.
I ripped his shirt off.
I let my gown fall.
I stood here, half-naked, trembling, aroused—and I kissed him back.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of magic.
But because I wanted to.
The realization hits like a blade to the gut. I stagger back, breaking contact, arms crossing over my chest, suddenly aware of how exposed I am. The firelight catches the scars on my ribs, the old brand on my shoulder, the whip marks on my thighs. I don’t care. Let them see. Let them know I’m not some polished court pet to be bedded and discarded.
I am war.
And I came here to burn his world down.
Kaelen watches me pull away. He doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there, shirtless, his golden skin glowing in the firelight, his chest rising and falling with each slow, controlled breath. His eyes—still burning, still hungry—follow my every move.
“You’re scared,” he says, voice low. Not a question. A statement.
“I’m not scared,” I snap. “I’m angry.”
“Same thing.”
“No,” I say, stepping back toward the door. “Anger I can use. Fear gets you killed.”
He doesn’t move. “Then use it.”
“On you?”
“On anyone who deserves it.” He takes a step forward. “But not on me. Not for this.”
“You lied,” I say, voice trembling despite my best efforts. “You let me believe she was yours.”
“I didn’t,” he says. “I never said it.”
“You didn’t deny it, either.”
He exhales, slow. “Would you have believed me if I did? You came in here ready to fight, ready to hate. You wanted proof I was weak. That I was like all the others. So I let you see what you wanted to see—so you’d feel something real.”
“You manipulated me.”
“I tested you,” he corrects. “And you passed.”
“By nearly killing her?”
“By protecting what’s yours.”
My breath catches.
Yours.
The bond pulses beneath my wrist, warm and insistent, as if it knows I’m lying to myself. I came here for revenge. Not for claiming. Not for possession. But the moment I saw her in his shirt—
I wanted to burn her alive.
Not to protect the bond.
Not to secure my place.
But because I hated the thought of someone else touching him.
“You’re not supposed to matter,” I whisper. “You’re not supposed to feel like this.”
He takes another step. “You think I don’t hate it too? That I don’t wake up every night wishing this bond had never ignited? That I could look at you and feel nothing?”
“Then why don’t you?” I challenge. “If it’s such a curse, why not rip it out? Why not starve it? Why not let it die?”
He stops. Stares at me. “Because it’s not just magic, Cosmos. It’s not just fate. It’s us. The way your scent floods my lungs like sin. The way your voice shreds through me when you’re angry. The way your body arches toward me even when you’re trying to fight. The bond didn’t create that. It just revealed it.”
My chest tightens.
“You don’t know me,” I say. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve survived.”
“Then tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if you know,” I say, voice breaking, “you won’t want me.”
He closes the distance in one stride.
His hands don’t grab. Don’t cage. Just rise—slow, deliberate—and cradle my face again. His thumbs trace my cheekbones, wiping away tears I didn’t realize had fallen. My breath hitches. I don’t pull away.
“There’s nothing,” he says, voice rough, “that could make me stop wanting you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand. I’m not some innocent taken by force. I let it happen. When I was sixteen. A Council enforcer. He promised me sanctuary. A place in their ranks. And then—” My voice cracks. I bite it back. “He took what he wanted. And I let him, because I thought—” I swallow hard. “I thought if I survived, it would be worth it. That I could use the knowledge. That I could rise. But I was wrong. So wrong. And now—”
“Now you control your body completely,” he finishes, his voice soft.
I nod, unable to speak.
“And you think that makes you unworthy?” he asks.
“I think it makes me broken.”
He lets out a low growl—fierce, protective—and pulls me into his chest. My face presses into the hard plane of his pectoral, my hands splayed against his ribs. His arms lock around me, not to restrain, but to hold.
“You’re not broken,” he murmurs into my hair. “You’re alive. You survived. You fought. You won. And if that enforcer were here right now, I’d rip his throat out with my teeth.”
A sob escapes me. I clamp it down.
“You don’t have to be strong for me,” he says. “Not here. Not now. Not with this.”
But I do.
I have to.
Because if I’m not strong, I’ll fall.
And if I fall—
I’ll lose everything.
He must sense it, the shift in me, because he pulls back just enough to look at me. His golden eyes search mine, as if memorizing every fractured piece.
“You still think you can destroy me,” he says.
“I know I can.”
“And if you do,” he asks, “what’s left for you? A court in ashes? A throne of bones? Is that what you want?”
“It’s what I deserve.”
“No,” he says. “You deserve to be free. To be loved. To be seen.”
“You don’t see me,” I whisper. “You see the bond. The power. The fight.”
“I see you,” he says. “The woman who defied the Council. Who stood in that hall and spoke for the Hollow. Who ripped my shirt off because she couldn’t stand the thought of me with someone else. That’s not the bond, Cosmos. That’s you.”
My breath hitches.
“And I’m not going to let you hide behind revenge,” he says. “Not anymore. Not from me.”
“And what if I don’t want to stop?” I challenge.
“Then I’ll make you.”
“You can’t.”
“Watch me,” he growls.
And then he kisses me.
Not like before—hard, desperate, devouring.
This one is slower.
Deeper.
His mouth moves over mine with aching precision, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I open for him. His hands slide down my back, stopping just above the curve of my ass, pressing me closer, until there’s no space left between us. My fingers twist in his hair, and I melt into him—helpless, hungry, ruined.
The bond flares—bright, hot, alive—but this time, it doesn’t feel like magic.
It feels like truth.
He pulls back, just enough to breathe. “You feel that?” he asks, voice ragged. “That’s not the bond. That’s you. That’s me. That’s what happens when we stop fighting.”
“We’re not done fighting,” I whisper.
“No,” he agrees. “But we’re not enemies.”
“We’re not allies.”
“Then what are we?”
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
Because I don’t know.
All I know is that I’m standing here, half-naked, in the arms of the man I came to destroy—and instead of pushing him away, I want to pull him closer.
“You think I’d let her touch me after you?” he growls, echoing his words from earlier, but softer now, like a vow. “You think I’d let anyone else have what’s mine?”
My breath hitches.
“Then prove it,” I whisper.
He doesn’t ask what I mean.
He knows.
His hand slides up my spine, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to expose my throat. His breath fans my pulse point. Hot. Heavy. Wanting.
And then—
His teeth graze my neck.
Not a bite. Not a claim.
Just a promise.
A threat.
A truth.
I gasp. My hips arch. My magic flares—wild, uncontrolled—and the sigil on my wrist pulses, hot and bright, as if the bond itself is screaming yes, yes, yes.
He pulls back, eyes blazing. “There will be no more lies. No more tests. No more games. You want proof? You have it. I am yours. Only yours. Now and always.”
My heart hammers.
“And I?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper. “Am I yours?”
“You already are,” he says. “You just haven’t admitted it yet.”
“I don’t want to belong to someone,” I say. “I don’t want to be owned.”
“Then don’t be,” he says. “Be mine. Be with me. Be equal. But don’t lie and say you don’t want it.”
I stare at him. At the truth in his eyes. At the raw vulnerability he’s never shown before.
And for the first time—
I believe him.
“Then stop calling me your bride,” I say. “Stop treating me like a prize to be claimed.”
“Only if you stop acting like a prisoner,” he counters.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll keep you anyway,” he says, a slow, dangerous smile curling his lips. “But I’d rather have you willing.”
My breath hitches.
“Then prove that too,” I whisper.
He doesn’t speak.
Just pulls me into his arms again—tight, fierce, possessive—and holds me as the fire crackles, as the bond hums, as the world outside this room falls away.
And for the first time since I stepped into this court—
I don’t think about revenge.
I don’t think about fire.
I don’t think about ashes.
I think about him.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
Later—hours later, or maybe only minutes—we stand on opposite sides of the room, dressed again, the wreckage of our emotions still hanging in the air like smoke.
“You should go,” he says, voice rough.
“And you?”
“I’ll deal with Lysara. The Council will hear of the fake mark. She’ll be punished.”
“You won’t kill her?”
“No,” he says. “But I’ll make sure she never forgets what happens to those who lie about me.”
I nod. “Good.”
He steps forward. “And Cosmos?”
I turn.
“No more running.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were,” he says. “But not from me. Never from me. Understand?”
I don’t answer.
Just hold his gaze, my heart pounding, my body still humming with the ghost of his touch.
And then I walk out.
The corridor is dark. Silent. But I feel him behind me, not in the hallway, but in my mind—in the whisper of the bond, in the thrum of his heartbeat echoing in my veins.
I don’t look back.
But I don’t run.
And when I reach my chambers, I don’t lock the door.
I came here to burn his court to ashes.
But the bond?
The bond wants me to keep him.
And for the first time—
I’m not sure I want to fight it.
I came here to destroy him.
But my body—and my heart—have other plans.