The chapel smelled of cold fire and old grief.
I knelt on the stone floor, the Blood Oath ledger heavy in my lap, my fingers tracing the embossed crescent and thorn on its cover. The candles burned with their eerie blue flame, casting long, wavering shadows across the statue of the Moon Mother. Her hands were outstretched, palms up, as if waiting to receive something I couldn’t give. Forgiveness. Peace. A future not written in blood.
Kael knelt beside me, silent, his presence like a storm held at bay. He hadn’t touched me since the study. Hadn’t spoken more than a few quiet words. But I could feel him—his heat, his scent, the way his breath hitched when I shifted slightly, when my arm brushed against his. The bond hummed between us, low and insistent, no longer a scream, but a pulse. A promise.
And gods help me, I didn’t pull away.
I should have. I should have stood, walked out, gone back to the war I’d sworn to wage. But I was tired. So damn tired. Tired of fighting the bond. Tired of pretending I didn’t feel it. Tired of hating him when my body remembered every touch, every breath, every word he’d whispered against my skin.
And when he’d said *“You already do,”* after I’d begged him not to make me want him—
I believed him.
Not because he’d said it.
But because the bond had flared like a star igniting in my chest, a surge of magic so pure, so undeniable, it had stolen my breath. It hadn’t been lust. Not just lust. It had been something deeper. Something true.
And that scared me more than anything.
“They’ll call for us soon,” Kael said, his voice low, rough with the weight of the silence.
I didn’t look at him. “Who?”
“The Council.”
My fingers tightened on the ledger. “What do they want now?”
“Proof.”
I turned to him. “Proof of what?”
“That the bond is real. That we’re not just playing a game.” He glanced at the ledger. “They’ve ordered a bonding ritual. A blood exchange. One sip. One touch. In front of the High Priestess.”
My breath caught. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
No. He didn’t. His face was carved from stone, his jaw clenched, his silver-threaded coat stiff with tension. But his eyes—those frozen starlight eyes—were alive with something I couldn’t name. Not fear. Not anger. Something darker. Something closer to *need*.
“They can’t force us,” I said.
“They can,” he said. “And they will. Refusal is an act of treason. It breaks the truce. It starts a war.”
“And if we do it?”
“Then the truce holds. For now.”
I looked down at the ledger. At my mother’s name. At mine. At the Oath that bound us, not just by blood, but by magic, by fate, by something neither of us could escape.
And now they wanted me to *feed* from him.
A blood exchange wasn’t just intimacy. It was *sacred*. Three sips, and it was an unbreakable bond. One sip, and it was a vow. A test. A claiming.
And a *feeding kiss*—mouth to wrist, lips to skin, breath mingling with blood—was more intimate than sex.
I’d seen it once, in the Grey Coven. A witch and her vampire lover, sealed in a blood pact. One sip. One touch. And the magic had flared so bright it had blinded me. Visions. Truths. Futures.
And now they wanted me to do it with *him*.
“I won’t do it,” I said.
Kael didn’t argue. Didn’t threaten. Just reached for my hand, his fingers closing around mine. The bond flared—hot, immediate, undeniable. My breath hitched. My pulse jumped. My skin burned where he touched me.
“You don’t have a choice,” he said. “But I’ll make you a promise.”
“What?”
“I won’t take more than one sip from you. I won’t claim you. I won’t bind us beyond what the ritual requires.” His thumb brushed my knuckles, slow, deliberate. “This stays between us. No games. No lies. Just… truth.”
I searched his face. Looked for the lie. The manipulation. The cold, calculating prince who’d pinned me to the altar and told me I’d die with him.
But all I saw was *him*. The man who’d let me keep the ledger. Who’d admitted he was fighting the bond. Who’d stood in his study and told me he desired me—*terrified* of it, but *wanting* it anyway.
And the bond—
It believed him.
I swallowed. “One sip. One touch. Then it’s over.”
“Then it’s over,” he agreed.
We stood in silence, the weight of the coming ritual pressing down on us like a tomb. I closed the ledger, tucked it beneath my arm, and followed him out of the chapel. The corridors were quiet, the floating candles dim, the sigils on the walls pulsing faintly. The Court knew. I could feel their stares, their whispers, their fear. The half-breed. The fated mate. The woman who had walked into their ancestral temple and changed everything.
And now they would watch us bind ourselves further.
The Obsidian Spire loomed ahead, its jagged peak piercing the twilight sky. The air grew colder as we approached, the scent of sacred iron sharp in my nose. The guards at the gate bowed as we passed, their eyes flicking to me with suspicion, with awe.
Kael didn’t speak. Just led me through the grand chamber, our hands still joined, the bond flaring with every step. The Council was already assembled—seven figures in a semicircle, their faces half-hidden in shadow. Lady Isolde sat at the center, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her eyes sharp. To her right, the High Priestess of the Grey Coven, her face veiled, her hands stained with ritual ink. The others—Alpha, Summer Fae, Winter Court, Rogue Witches, Human Accord—remained silent, watching.
And then—
The hybrid seat.
Still empty.
But not for long.
“Prince Kael,” Lady Isolde said, her voice echoing through the chamber. “You bring your fated mate for the bonding ritual. Proceed.”
Kael didn’t release my hand. He turned to me, his voice low, meant only for my ears. “Remember our promise.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
He stepped forward, leading me to the center of the mosaic floor. The sigils flared—silver light spiraling up from the stone, wrapping around our wrists like chains. The bond surged, white-hot, and I gasped, my fingers tightening around his.
The High Priestess stepped forward, a silver dagger in her hand. “Blood must be drawn,” she intoned. “One from each. One sip. One touch. Let the magic bear witness.”
Kael didn’t hesitate.
He raised his wrist, offering it to her. The blade flashed—clean, precise—and a single drop of blood welled at his pulse point. Dark. Thick. *Powerful.*
Then she turned to me.
I held out my hand, palm up. The scar across my left palm—the mark of the Blood Oath—tingled, but didn’t glow. The blade bit into my skin, a sharp sting, and blood welled, red and bright against the pale flesh.
“The exchange begins,” the High Priestess said. “One sip. One touch. Let the bond speak.”
Kael turned to me, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. He didn’t speak. Just raised his wrist to my lips.
I hesitated.
This wasn’t just blood.
This was *him*. His power. His memories. His soul.
And the bond—
It was *hungry*.
I leaned in.
And I *tasted* him.
One sip.
That was all it took.
His blood was dark wine and winter pine, laced with something ancient, something *fierce*. It flooded my mouth, my throat, my veins, and the world *exploded*.
Fire. Not pain—no, this was something deeper. A surge of magic so powerful it ripped through me, tearing open the walls between us. I could *see* him—his thoughts, his hunger, the cold, controlled fury beneath his calm. I could *feel* him—his loneliness, his grief, the weight of centuries, the fear of being used again.
And then—
Visions.
Flashes of a future I didn’t understand.
Kael’s hand on my waist in the dark. His lips on my neck. A child’s laughter—*silver-lavender eyes staring up at me.*
War. Blood. Fire. The Grey Coven burning. The Lupine Clans howling in rage. The Winter Court frozen in betrayal.
And then—
Me.
Standing over Kael’s body, a dagger in my hand, his blood on my lips, my face streaked with tears.
I had killed him.
The vision ended with a scream—not mine, but his, a raw, broken sound that echoed through the chamber.
I wrenched my mouth away, gasping, my body trembling, my skin on fire. The bond *screamed*, a pulse of magic so violent it made the sigils beneath our feet blaze with silver light. My knees buckled, but Kael caught me, his arm around my waist, holding me up.
“Avalon,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Look at me.”
I couldn’t. My eyes were wide, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The visions—
They hadn’t been random.
They’d been *truths*.
“What did you see?” the High Priestess demanded.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Kael did.
“The bond is real,” he said, his voice low, rough. “It has spoken.”
“And the visions?” Lady Isolde pressed. “What did they show?”
“The future,” Kael said. “As it always does.”
“And what future?”
He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine. “One of war. One of love. One of death.”
“Whose death?”
He didn’t answer.
Just held me closer, his hand tightening on my waist, his breath warm against my temple.
“The ritual is complete,” the High Priestess said. “The bond is confirmed. The truce stands.”
No one moved. No one spoke. The Council watched, their faces unreadable, their silence heavier than any accusation.
And then—
Kael turned, leading me from the chamber. The guards followed. The doors sealed behind us with a sound like a tomb closing.
When we were alone in the corridor, I wrenched myself from his grip.
“You knew,” I hissed, my voice low, furious. “You knew what would happen. You knew about the visions.”
“I suspected,” he said. “Blood exchanges reveal truth. Futures. Regrets.”
“And you didn’t *warn* me?”
“Would you have done it if I had?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew the truth.
I would have.
Not for the truce.
Not for the Council.
But for *him*.
“The child,” I whispered. “The one with silver-lavender eyes. That was—”
“Ours,” he said, his voice quiet. “In one possible future.”
My breath caught. “And the other? The one where I kill you?”
He didn’t flinch. Just looked at me, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. “Also possible.”
“Then why do this? Why bind us further? Why give them proof?”
“Because if we don’t,” he said, stepping closer, “the war comes *now*. And you die in the first battle. And I die with you.”
His hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. The bond flared—hot, undeniable. My breath hitched. My eyes fluttered shut.
“You tasted me,” he murmured. “You felt me. You saw *us*.”
“And I saw my mother’s death,” I whispered. “I saw mine.”
“And you saw *life*,” he said. “Love. A child. A future.”
“At what cost?”
“At the cost of everything,” he said. “But isn’t it worth it?”
I opened my eyes. Looked into his. And for the first time, I didn’t see the monster.
I saw the man.
The one who’d let me keep the ledger.
The one who’d admitted he desired me.
The one who’d just shared his blood with me—*trusted* me—with everyone watching.
And the bond—
It wasn’t just magic.
It was *us*.
“I don’t want to kill you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don’t *want* to.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Just pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me, holding me like I was something fragile, something *his*.
“Then don’t,” he said. “Fight the Oath. Fight the Council. Fight me if you have to. But don’t kill me.”
“And if I can’t break it?”
“Then I’ll break it for you,” he said. “Even if it kills me.”
I buried my face in his coat, my hands fisting in the fabric, my body trembling.
And for the first time since I’d walked into Shadowveil Court—
I let myself *hope*.
The mark on my collarbone pulsed, warm and alive.
Not a curse.
A promise.