The silence after Kaelen leaves is worse than the pain.
It’s not empty. It’s charged—thick with the residue of his touch, the ghost of his fangs on my neck, the echo of his voice growling in my ear. My body still thrums with the aftermath of venom, of blood, of that unbearable, maddening friction between my thighs. The bond hums beneath my skin, weaker now, frayed but not broken, like a rope stretched to its limit. I can still feel him—distant, guarded, but present. Watching. Waiting.
I don’t move.
I lie on his bed, the black silk cool against my fevered skin, my dress rumpled, my legs still parted from where his hand had been. My fingers twitch toward the dagger at my thigh—still there, still hidden. Still useless. I could have drawn it. I could have struck. But I didn’t.
Because when he pressed my hand to his throat and told me to kill him—
I hesitated.
Not out of fear.
Not out of weakness.
But because for one breathless second, I saw something in his eyes that I didn’t expect.
Want.
Not just desire. Not just possession. But need. A raw, unguarded hunger that had nothing to do with the bond and everything to do with me. And worse—
I felt it too.
Not the magic. Not the forced connection. But something deeper. Something real.
I close my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands to my temples. No. I won’t think like that. I am Lavender. Daughter of Elara. I came here to break the Blood Vow, not fall into the arms of the man who holds it.
But the truth is—
I’m losing control.
The trial is supposed to prove the bond. To test its legitimacy. But it’s doing something else. It’s unraveling me. Peeling back the layers of vengeance and duty until all that’s left is this aching, shameful hunger—for him, for his touch, for the way his voice drops when he says my name.
And now Malrik knows about the Vow.
Thorne said it was urgent. About the Blood Vow. My mother. Is he trying to use it against me? Against Kaelen? Or does he know the truth—that I’m not just here to expose a crime, but to destroy the man who committed it?
I sit up slowly, the room tilting for a moment before settling. My body feels weak, drained, but the venom is gone—burned away by Kaelen’s blood. His blood.
I press my fingers to my neck, to the twin punctures he left behind. They’ve already healed, but the memory lingers—sharp, deep, intimate. He fed from me. Not to weaken me. To save me. And then he flooded me with his own blood, stitching me back together with magic and fury.
Why?
Not because he cares.
Not because he feels something for me.
Because the bond would have killed him too. Because if I died, he would have died. Because I’m his now, whether I want to be or not.
I stand, my legs unsteady, and move to the door. It’s closed, but not locked. The bond would have warned him if I tried to run. Still, I test the handle. It turns. I could leave. I could flee into the corridors, into the Blood Garden, into the night.
But where would I go?
Malrik is here. He knows about the Vow. He might already know who I am.
And Kaelen—
He’d find me.
He said he’d burn the world to find me.
I shiver.
Not from fear.
From something worse.
Hope.
No. I won’t think like that.
I am not his. I am not anyone’s. I came here to free my mother, to make Kaelen suffer, to walk away with my soul intact.
And I will.
Even if it kills me.
I strip off my dress, the fabric sliding from my body like liquid shadow, and step into the bathing chamber. The tub is carved from black stone, filled with steaming water that ripples with faint silver light—enchanted, probably, to cleanse magic residue. I sink in, the heat seeping into my bones, soothing the last tremors of the venom. My wrist aches where the sigil burns into my skin. I trace the three interlocking chains, the same mark that ruined my mother.
But mine is different.
Not just a curse.
A weapon.
If the bond is real, if it’s more than just magic forced upon us, then it’s not just chaining me to him.
It’s connecting me to the source of the Vow.
And if I can learn to wield it—
I might not have to destroy him.
I might be able to use him.
I wash quickly, scrubbing the scent of blood and shadow from my skin, then wrap myself in a dark robe and return to the bedroom. The goblet of blood is still on the table, half-empty, the liquid thick and dark. I pick it up, staring into its depths. Could I drink it? Could I let his blood into my veins willingly, not under duress, not to survive, but to connect?
No.
I set it down.
The door opens.
Kaelen steps in, his coat pristine, his face unreadable. But I feel it—the bond flaring, a pulse of heat that races through me, settling low in my belly. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t speak. Just walks to the hearth, where blue flames burn without heat, and stands with his back to me.
“Malrik knows about the Vow,” I say.
He doesn’t turn. “He always has.”
“He knows about my mother.”
“He knows about a lot of things.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it wasn’t your business.”
“It’s everything.”
He finally turns, his red eyes locking onto mine. “You think I don’t know what you are? What you came here to do?”
My breath catches.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar,” he says softly. “The bond shows me your emotions. Your rage. Your grief. Your hate. And beneath it all—”
He steps closer, his voice dropping. “—the need to destroy me.”
I don’t flinch. “And if I do? If I break the Vow and free my mother? What then?”
“Then you’ll have what you came for.”
“And you?”
“I’ll have lost what I never knew I wanted.”
My heart stutters.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing the sigil on my wrist. Heat flares where he touches, spreading up my arm, coiling low in my belly. “But you won’t do it. Not yet. Because you’re starting to wonder—what if the man who holds the Vow isn’t the monster you believe him to be?”
“Your father was the one who bound her,” I say. “Not you.”
“But I kept the ring. I kept the contract. I let her suffer.”
“You didn’t free her.”
“No,” he admits. “I didn’t. Because if I broke the Vow, the magic would destroy her soul. It’s not just a binding. It’s a leash. And if you pull it too hard, it snaps.”
I freeze.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He steps closer, his body crowding mine. “Then why do you think I’ve kept the contract locked away? Why do you think I’ve never destroyed it? Because I’m waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for someone who can break it without killing her.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“I know it is.”
My breath hitches.
“Why?”
“Because the bond chose you. Not by accident. Not by magic. By fate.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe in fate.”
“Then believe in this.”
He grabs my wrist, pulling me close, and presses my palm to his chest, over his heart. It doesn’t beat. Not like a human’s. But I feel it—a slow, steady pulse, deep and dark, like the thrum of the bond.
“This,” he says, “is yours. Whether you want it or not.”
My knees weaken.
“I can’t—”
“You can,” he interrupts. “You will. Because the trial isn’t just about proving the bond. It’s about proving you. Proving that you’re strong enough to break the Vow. That you’re worthy of her freedom.”
“And if I’m not?”
“Then you’ll die trying.”
I pull my hand back, but he catches it, holding me in place.
“Tomorrow,” he says, “you’ll face the truth ritual. The Oathweavers will test you under magic. They’ll see your memories. Your desires. Your lies.”
My pulse hammers.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then the bond will punish you. And I won’t stop it.”
“You’d let them see everything?”
“I’d let them see what you’re hiding. Because the only way to break the Vow is to face the truth. All of it.”
He releases me, stepping back. “Sleep. You’ll need your strength.”
He turns, walking toward his chambers. “And Lavender?”
I don’t answer.
“Don’t lie to them. The magic will know. And if you do—”
His eyes flash red.
“—I’ll make you regret it.”
The door closes behind him.
Silence.
I stand there, trembling, my skin still burning where he touched me. My body still aching. My mind racing.
The truth ritual.
It’s not just a test.
It’s an execution.
Because if they see my memories—if they see my mother begging, if they see me plotting Kaelen’s downfall, if they see the dagger at my thigh—
I’ll be executed for deception.
And my mother will die with me.
I force myself to move, stumbling toward my room. The door is open, just as he said. I don’t close it. I don’t even look at the bed. I go straight to the window—narrow, barred, looking out over the gardens below.
Freedom. So close. And yet—
I press my palm to the glass. Cold. Solid. Like everything in this place.
My other hand drifts to my wrist, to the sigil burned into my skin. It throbs faintly, warm to the touch. I trace the three interlocking chains—the same mark that bound my mother.
But mine is different.
Not just a curse.
A key.
Because if the bond is real, if it’s more than just magic forced upon us, then it’s not just chaining me to him.
It’s connecting me to the source of the Vow.
And if I can learn to wield it—
I might not have to destroy him.
I might be able to use him.
I close my eyes.
And for the first time since I walked into this cursed court—
I let myself wonder.
What if I don’t destroy him?
What if he destroys me first?
And what if—
—I don’t mind?
No.
I won’t think like that.
I am Lavender. Daughter of Elara. Witch of the Northern Coven.
I came here to break the Blood Vow.
To free my mother.
To make Kaelen suffer.
And I will.
No matter what this bond tries to make me feel.
No matter how much my body betrays me.
No matter how much I—
I stop.
Because in the silence, beneath the hum of the bond, I hear it.
A whisper.
Not in my ears.
In my mind.
You’re already mine.
I open my eyes.
The window reflects the room behind me.
And in the glass—
For just a second—
I see him.
Standing in the shadows.
Watching me.
Smiling.
And I know—
He’s not just in my head.
He’s in my blood.
And he’s never letting go.
The Oathweaver chamber is colder than I remember.
White stone walls, glowing runes etched into the floor, the air thick with ancient magic. I stand in the center, my hands at my sides, my breath steady, my expression blank. Kaelen is beside me, his presence like a storm, his red eyes fixed on the Oathweaver—a tall fae with silver eyes, his face hidden behind a mask of living vine.
“State your name,” he commands.
“Lavender, daughter of Elara, witch of the Northern Coven.”
“Purpose here.”
“To prove the bond. To serve the alliance.”
The runes flare—amber, not red. A half-truth. Acceptable.
“Extend your hand.”
I do. He presses a silver blade to my palm, drawing a thin line. Blood wells, dark and rich. He does the same to Kaelen, then presses our hands together.
The bond surges.
Heat races through me, a pulse of magic that crashes into my skull, threatening to tear my thoughts apart. I grit my teeth, holding on. This is it. The moment of truth.
“Speak,” the Oathweaver says. “What do you desire most?”
My breath hitches.
I can’t lie. The magic will know.
But I can’t tell the truth.
Because the truth—
The truth is that I want him.
Not just to destroy.
But to keep.
And that—
That is the most dangerous secret of all.
So I say the only thing I can.
“I desire my mother’s freedom.”
The runes pulse—amber, not red.
Truth.
But not the whole truth.
And then—
His thumb brushes my collarbone.
Not the Oathweaver.
Kaelen.
His touch is light, barely there, but it sends a jolt through me, a spark of heat that races down my spine, pooling between my thighs. My body arches toward him, betraying me.
He feels it. Of course he does.
And in his eyes—
For just a second—
I see it.
Triumph.
Because he knows.
He knows I’m lying.
He knows I want him.
And he knows—
I’ll never be free.