The healing chamber was silent—too silent.
No torchlight flickered in the sconces. No hum of magic pulsed through the stone. Just stillness. The kind that followed chaos. The aftermath of fire and blood and sacrifice. I sat on the edge of the obsidian bed, my boots still damp from the journey back, my hands clenched in my lap. The air was thick with the scent of crushed moonwort and old blood, the kind that clung to wounds, to memories, to the weight of what I’d done.
I’d given up the last memory of my mother’s voice.
Not her face. Not her touch. But the words she’d whispered before the ritual—the ones that had carried me through thirteen years of hate, of vengeance, of sleepless nights spent sharpening blades and memorizing spells. Be strong, my daughter. I am with you. Always.
And now?
Now, they were gone.
Erased. Not by time. Not by magic. But by choice.
The Fae High Court had taken them. In exchange, they’d granted me passage into the ritual void. I’d found her. Touched her. Pulled her back from the edge of oblivion.
And yet—
I didn’t feel like a victor.
I felt hollow. Like something vital had been carved from my chest and left to bleed in the dark.
Behind me, the door creaked open.
I didn’t turn. Didn’t need to. I knew his presence before he spoke. The bond hummed beneath my skin, a low, insistent pulse that had deepened since the cave, since the stronghold, since the void. It wasn’t just magic anymore. It was *truth*. A thread of fire that tied us, not by force, not by fate, but by something worse.
Choice.
“You’re awake,” Kael said, his voice rough. Not a question. A statement. Like he’d been waiting. Watching.
“I didn’t sleep,” I said, still not looking at him. “I don’t think I can.”
He didn’t answer. Just stepped inside, his boots silent on the stone. The door clicked shut behind him. No guards. No Silas. No whispers from the corridors. Just us. Alone. And the bond—oh, the bond—was flaring, a surge of heat that made my skin burn, my breath tremble, my magic rise in response.
He moved to the basin in the corner, poured water from the pitcher, dipped a cloth. I watched him in the reflection of the obsidian mirror—his broad shoulders, the way his coat pulled tight across his back, the gold of his eyes catching the dim light. He wasn’t in half-shift. Wasn’t armored. Just… present. Human, in a way I’d never seen him before.
He turned, the damp cloth in his hand, and walked toward me.
“Your hands are bleeding,” he said.
I looked down. The knuckles were split, the skin raw. I must’ve torn them in the void, clawing at the cage of light that had held my mother. I hadn’t even felt it.
“It’s nothing,” I said, curling my fingers into fists.
“It’s not nothing,” he said, kneeling in front of me. His hands were warm as he took mine, his claws retracted, his touch careful. He unfolded my fingers, pressed the cloth to the cuts. The sting was sharp, but I didn’t pull away.
“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice low.
“Because you are,” he said, not looking up. “Because I couldn’t stay away.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
He cleaned the wounds in silence, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles, slow, deliberate. Not a caress. Not a tease.
But a *reminder*.
That I was here. That he was here. That we were *alive*.
And that the world had changed.
“Maeve told me what you gave up,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The memory. Your mother’s last words.”
I didn’t answer. Just stared at the wall, at the shadows dancing in the torchlight. I didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to feel it.
But he wasn’t letting me go.
“She said you didn’t hesitate,” he said. “That you spoke the memory like it was nothing. Like you were ready to lose it.”
“I was,” I said, my voice breaking. “I had to be.”
“And if it had cost you more?” he asked. “If the Fae had demanded your magic? Your life?”
“Then I’d have given it,” I said, lifting my chin. “Because she’s worth it. Because the truth is worth it.”
He didn’t flinch. Just reached up and brushed his thumb along the bond mark on my neck.
Fire shot through me.
A gasp tore from my lips. My body arched toward him, betraying me completely. My magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to his like it had its own will.
“Don’t,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was a plea.
“Then tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want *me*.”
I opened my mouth.
But no words came.
Because I couldn’t say it.
Because I didn’t know if it was true.
And in that moment—
The door burst open.
Silas stood in the threshold, his dark coat dusted with ash, his expression grim. “We have a problem.”
Kael didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on me, his hand still on my neck, his body still pressed against mine.
“What is it?” I asked, wiping my tears.
“Vexis,” Silas said. “He’s mobilizing the Southern Clans. They’re marching on the Citadel. He’s claiming the Blood Moon Bond is a lie. That it was forged in deception. That Opal is a threat to the truce.”
My breath caught.
“And the Council?” Kael asked, standing.
“Divided,” Silas said. “Some believe him. Others remember what she did in the Archives. What she did in the stronghold. But they’re afraid. Afraid of her power. Afraid of the bond.”
“Then we stop him,” I said, standing. “Now.”
“It’s a trap,” Kael said. “He wants you to act. To prove his point. To show the Council that you’re unstable. That the bond is dangerous.”
“And if we do nothing?” I demanded. “If we let him turn them against us? If we let him rewrite the truth?”
He didn’t answer.
Just stared at me, his gold eyes burning.
And I knew—
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *truth*.
And I would burn the world to get it.
“I’m going,” I said, stepping past him. “With or without you.”
He didn’t stop me.
Just followed.
And as we walked through the torch-lit corridors, the bond humming between us, I knew one thing.
The real battle wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It wasn’t with Vexis.
It was here.
In the heart of the Citadel.
And the enemy wasn’t just the man who’d framed Kael.
It was the woman who’d raised me.
And the vampire who’d worn his shirt.
And the bond that tied us all together.
And me.
Because the most dangerous thing of all?
Wasn’t the magic.
Wasn’t the lies.
Wasn’t even the blood.
It was the truth.
And I wasn’t sure any of us were ready to face it.
We reached the Council chamber as the Blood Moon began to wane, its crimson glow fading to a dull silver in the sky. The guards at the gate hesitated when they saw us—filthy, bloodied, half-frozen—but Kael’s presence silenced any questions. We moved through the corridors like ghosts, the whispers of our return already spreading.
“They’re saying we slept together,” Silas murmured as we passed a group of Northern Pack envoys. Their eyes flickered to me—narrowed, judging.
“Let them talk,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t care what they believe.”
“You should,” Kael said, his voice low. “Rumors have power. Especially when they’re laced with truth.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
The truth was the most dangerous weapon of all.
The Council chamber was already in session—seven figures seated in a half-circle, their faces lit by the flickering torches. Vexis stood at the center, his ageless face pale, his eyes like shards of ice. He wore a long, flowing robe of deepest black, the sigil of the Unseelie Court embroidered over his heart. His presence filled the room, cold, suffocating, like the air before a storm breaks.
“The Blood Moon Bond is a lie,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence. “Forged in chaos. In blood. In magic. It is not a union of will, but of force. And the witch Opal is not a consort. She is a *threat*.”
“And what proof do you have?” Kael demanded, stepping forward. “That the bond is false? That she is dangerous?”
“The proof is in her power,” Vexis said, turning to me. “She wields moonfire. A magic that consumes. That destroys. That *burns*. And she has already proven her instability—breaking into the Archives, attacking her own kin, sacrificing her memory for a ghost.”
My breath stilled.
He knew.
He knew what I’d given up.
And he was using it.
“She did it to save her mother,” Silas said, stepping beside me. “To reclaim the truth you stole.”
“And at what cost?” Vexis asked, spreading his hands. “What will she sacrifice next? The truce? The peace? Her own soul?”
“Enough,” I said, stepping forward. My voice was steady. Calm. “You want proof? You want truth?”
The room fell silent.
I didn’t look at Kael. Didn’t look at Silas. Just kept my eyes on Vexis.
“Then I’ll give it to you.”
I raised my hand.
And I burned.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t hurt anyone. Didn’t burn.
It *revealed*.
For a single, blinding second, the entire chamber was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Vexis’s aura—normally a deep black—was laced with something darker. A thread of shadow, twisting through his magic like poison. And beneath it, a sigil. Faint. Hidden. But *there*.
A mark of the Unseelie Court.
He wasn’t just a lord.
He was a *spy*.
And he wasn’t working for the Council.
He was working for *himself*.
Lord Vexis.
The light faded. The Council gasped. Vexis didn’t move. Just smiled, slow, knowing, venomous.
“You think this changes anything?” he asked. “You think a little light can expose what darkness has claimed?”
“I don’t think,” I said, stepping closer. “I *know*.”
“Then know this,” he said, his voice low. “The bond is still a curse. And you—”
He stepped closer.
“—are still mine.”
I didn’t flinch.
Just stepped forward, my magic rising, my power burning.
“No,” I said. “I belong to no one. Not you. Not Kael. Not even the bond.”
“Then why do you still stand beside him?” he asked, his voice low. “Why does your magic rise when he touches you? Why do you fight for him?”
“Because I *choose* to,” I said. “And that’s something you’ll never understand.”
He didn’t answer.
Just turned—and vanished into the shadows.
Like smoke.
Like a lie.
And then—
The chamber was silent.
The truth was ours.
Kael stepped forward, his hand finding mine, not in possession, not in control, but in *solidarity*. His gold eyes burned into mine, not with suspicion, but with something raw. Something I couldn’t name.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “You could’ve let it stand. You could’ve been free.”
“And what kind of freedom is built on lies?” I asked, my voice low. “I didn’t come here to be free. I came here to be *true*.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
I didn’t fight.
Just buried my face in his coat, my breath trembling, my heart breaking.
Because I’d just done the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do.
I’d chosen him.
Over revenge.
Over hate.
Over everything.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
The bond hummed between us, warm, alive, *real*.
And for the first time, I wondered—
Was I fighting to break it?
Or was I fighting to keep it?
I didn’t know.
But I knew one thing.
The game had changed.
And I was no longer sure who was winning.
Or if I even wanted to.
We returned to the healing chamber as the first light of dawn broke over the Citadel, its silver glow painting the stone spires in blood. The air was thick with magic, the scent of old parchment and dried blood rising from the stone. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands in my lap, my breath still trembling.
Kael stood by the door, his back to me, his shoulders tense. He hadn’t spoken since the Council. Hadn’t looked at me. Just followed, silent, watchful.
“You should rest,” he said, his voice rough.
“I can’t,” I said. “Not yet.”
He turned, his gold eyes burning. “Then what do you need?”
I didn’t answer. Just stood, my boots silent on the stone. I walked to him, my breath coming fast, my heart pounding. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath my feet.
And then—
I kissed him.
Not in magic.
Not in fire.
Not in desperation.
But in *truth*.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just *need*.
His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not to burn, not to fight, but to *soothe*. To *heal*. To *claim*.
And when he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands tangling in my hair, I didn’t pull away.
I *arched* into him.
And when he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my lips, he whispered—
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t,” I said, my voice trembling.
And for the first time, I believed it.