The Council Chamber felt like a tomb after the ritual—cold, hollow, suffocating. The air still hummed with the residue of magic, the sigils on the obsidian floor glowing faintly crimson, but the truth had been spoken and ignored. Kael’s name was cleared, yes, but only just. And mine? I’d been painted as reckless. A threat. A hybrid witch who dared challenge the Council, who wielded truth like a blade and expected it to cut through centuries of lies.
Elira had smiled the whole time. Cassien had watched me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t yet solved. And the others—wolves, fae, vampires—had said nothing. Just sat in their thrones like statues, their eyes sharp, their silence louder than any accusation.
We left without another word.
Kael’s hand never left the small of my back, his presence a solid wall against the weight of their stares. The bond pulsed between us—steady, insistent—a tether that had once felt like a chain, but now, after everything, felt like armor.
“They’ll come for us,” I said as we walked through the keep, my voice low. “Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon.”
He didn’t answer. Just tightened his grip, his scent flaring—pine and iron, storm and something darker. He knew. Of course he did. Elira wouldn’t let this go. She’d lost the first battle, but she wasn’t done. She’d regroup. Reassess. And when she struck again, it wouldn’t be in the light. It would be in the shadows.
And she’d aim to kill.
***
We didn’t return to the suite. Not yet. The air was still too thick with tension, the weight of the Council’s judgment pressing against my chest like a living thing. Instead, Kael led me through the lower levels of the keep—past the armory, the training grounds, the old dungeons—toward the eastern gate, where the forest began.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my boots silent on the stone.
“To the border,” he said, not slowing. “We need to see what Elira’s been hiding. Her guards have been moving through the Veil Woods at night. Torin’s seen them. Fae, but not loyal to the Court. Bound by oath. By blood.”
My breath caught. “You think she’s building an army?”
“I know she is,” he said, turning his head, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “And if we don’t stop her now, she’ll have the numbers to challenge the Council. To take the Northern Packs. To burn everything we’ve built.”
I didn’t argue. Just followed him—through the gate, into the trees, where the world shifted from stone to shadow. The Veil Woods were ancient, the trees towering, their branches twisted like claws, their roots burrowing deep into the earth. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp stone, the silence broken only by the distant cry of a raven.
We moved like ghosts, our steps silent, our breaths even. The bond pulsed between us—hot, insistent—feeding on the tension, on the danger, on the unspoken thing that had grown between us since the fire, since the kiss, since the moment I’d said, *“We face her together.”*
And then—
We saw them.
Three fae guards, cloaked in shadow, standing at the edge of a clearing. They weren’t just patrolling. They were waiting. Watching. And in the center of the clearing—
A sigil.
Carved into the earth, glowing faintly silver, the same ancient script from the ritual chamber. But this one was different. Sharper. Darker. A binding. A trap.
“It’s a ward,” I whispered, my magic flaring. “Meant to pull in supernatural energy. To drain it.”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “She’s siphoning power. From the land. From the packs. From *us*.”
Before I could respond, a voice cut through the silence.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
We turned.
More guards—six of them—emerged from the trees, their eyes glowing silver, their hands crackling with fae magic. They moved in unison, a wall of power, their presence pressing against my chest like a vise.
“Run,” I said, stepping in front of Kael, my hands rising, magic flaring at my fingertips.
“No,” he growled, pulling me back. “We fight.”
But we were outnumbered. Outmaneuvered.
And then—
They struck.
Light—silver and blinding—erupted from their palms, a wave of magic that slammed into us like a physical blow. I threw up a shield—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined—but it shattered under the force. Kael roared, shifting partially—claws, fangs, golden eyes blazing—but they were on him in an instant, binding him with chains of pure glamour, their voices chanting in ancient fae.
I tried to reach him. Tried to fight. But another blast hit me—this one laced with sleep magic—and the world spun, darkness creeping in at the edges.
The last thing I saw was Kael’s face—his golden eyes burning with fury, his lips forming my name—before the shadows swallowed me whole.
***
I woke to cold.
Not the chill of night. Not the damp of the forest.
This was deeper. Older. A cold that seeped into the bones, that wrapped around the heart and squeezed.
My eyes fluttered open. I was in a cell—stone walls, iron bars, no windows. The air was thick with the scent of moss and decay, the silence broken only by the distant drip of water. My magic was weak, erratic, flaring and dying like a dying star. The bond—
It was there. Faint. Frayed. But alive.
“Kael,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
And then—
A shift in the air. A pull in my chest. The bond flared—hot, insistent—and I didn’t need to turn to know he was there.
He was in the cell beside me, separated by iron bars, his body slumped against the wall, his coat gone, his sleeves torn, revealing the scars on his forearms—old wounds, deep and jagged. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow, but I could feel him—his pulse, his heat, the way his scent still wrapped around me, even through the cold.
“Kael,” I said again, louder this time.
His eyes opened—gold-flecked, tired, but still burning.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough.
“Where are we?” I asked, pushing myself up, my body aching.
“Elira’s prison,” he said, rising slowly. “Beneath the Fae Court of Thorns. No sunlight. No magic. Just cold. And silence.”
My stomach dropped. “How long?”
“Two days,” he said. “They’ve been draining us. Using the bond. Feeding on our energy to power the wards.”
I looked down at my wrist. The sigil was dim, barely glowing. The bond was weakening. And when it broke—
So would we.
“We need to get out,” I said, standing, my legs unsteady.
“The bars are iron,” he said. “Warded. I’ve tried.”
“So have I,” I said, pressing my palm to the bars. The metal burned, repelling my magic. “But the bond—”
“Is fading,” he finished. “And when it goes, the fever will take us. We’ll collapse. And they’ll drain the rest.”
I turned to him, my breath coming fast. “Then we don’t let it fade.”
He didn’t answer. Just looked at me, his expression unreadable.
“The bond needs proximity,” I said, stepping closer to the bars. “Body heat. Shared breath. If we don’t stabilize it, we’ll die.”
His jaw tightened. “You know what that requires.”
“I do,” I said, my voice steady. “And I’m not afraid.”
He stepped forward, his chest brushing the bars, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “You should be. This isn’t just about survival. It’s about trust. About letting me in. About letting me *feel* you.”
My breath caught.
He was right.
This wasn’t just about the bond. It wasn’t just about magic. It was about surrender. About letting down the walls I’d built around my heart, about letting him see the woman beneath the vengeance, the rage, the fire.
And I was terrified.
But I was more terrified of dying in this cell, of letting Elira win, of never seeing the sunrise again.
“Do it,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn’t hesitate.
One hand reached through the bars, his fingers brushing my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. The bond flared—hot, electric—and I gasped, arching into his touch.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice low, rough.
I did.
And in his eyes, I saw it. Not dominance. Not possession. But something fiercer. Something that made my chest ache.
Need.
“We’re going to get out of here,” he said, his hand sliding to my neck, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “But you have to trust me. You have to let me in.”
My breath hitched.
“I do,” I whispered. “I trust you.”
And then—
He pulled.
Not me.
The bars.
With a roar, he wrenched them apart—iron groaning, magic crackling—and in one fluid motion, he pulled me through, his arms wrapping around me, his body pressing against mine. Heat flooded me—his heat, the bond’s heat, the heat of survival, of desperation, of something terrifyingly close to hope.
“Kael—”
“Shh,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my temple. “Just breathe. Let the heat ground you.”
I didn’t argue. Just leaned into him, my body trembling, my breath ragged. The bond pulsed—steady, insistent. Our pulses synced. Our breaths tangled.
And then—
The fever hit.
White-hot, searing. It ripped through me—my head, my chest, my limbs—like my body was tearing itself apart. I gasped, stumbling, my hands flying to my temples. My vision blurred. My knees buckled.
“Jade!”
Kael caught me, lifting me into his arms, his chest a wall of muscle and heat. “The bond’s breaking,” he said, his voice tight. “We need to stabilize it. Now.”
“How?” I gasped, my voice breaking.
“Body heat,” he said, carrying me to the far corner of the cell, where the cold was less intense. “Skin to skin. Shared breath. And—” He laid me down, his body pressing against mine. “Touch.”
I didn’t fight. Didn’t argue. Just let him strip off my tunic, then his shirt, until we were bare against each other, our skin burning, our breaths syncing. He pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me, his hands splayed across my stomach.
“Breathe,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my neck. “Let the heat ground you.”
And then—
He did the one thing I didn’t expect.
He licked me.
Not a kiss. Not a bite.
Just a slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue against my pulse point—warm, wet, claiming. I gasped, arching into him, my fingers digging into his arms. The bond flared—hot, electric. Magic surged beneath my skin, wild and untamed.
“You feel it,” he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. “The pull. The need. It’s not just the bond. It’s us.”
“Kael—”
“Don’t stop me,” he growled, his tongue tracing the line of my throat. “Not now. Not when we’re this close to breaking.”
I didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Because he was right.
The fever was still there. The cold still clawed at my bones. But beneath it—beneath the fear, the pain, the exhaustion—was something fiercer.
Something that felt, terrifyingly, like home.
And when he pulled me closer, when his tongue swept over my pulse, when his hands slid lower, tracing the curve of my hip—
I didn’t push him away.
I pulled him closer.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
He didn’t.
Just growled—low, feral—against my skin.
“I wasn’t planning to.”