The first time I truly understood that sacrifice wasn’t just in dying—but in choosing to live—was when Mael told me the blood-oath could be broken.
Only if one of us died.
We were in the old sanctuary beneath the eastern wing—the same one where the sigil had burned into my skin, where Kaelen had touched me like I was sacred, where the magic had roared and the bond had pulsed and for one fleeting moment, I’d believed in us. The torches flickered low, casting long shadows across the ancient runes carved into the stone floor. The air hummed with old magic, thick and slow, like honey laced with lightning. And Mael—
Mael stood in the center, his shadow-weave robes shifting like smoke, his eyes sharp, his presence commanding. He looked older than I remembered—tired, haunted, like a man who had carried too many secrets for too long.
“It’s not just a curse,” he said, his voice low. “It’s a pact. An old one. From before the Purge. The kind meant to bind enemies, not mates. And like all blood oaths, it has a price.”
I didn’t move. Just stood in the archway, my back against the cold stone, my arms crossed over my chest. The sigil on my thigh still glowed faintly beneath my gown, a heat against my skin, a reminder of what I’d become. What I was becoming.
“And that price?” I asked, my voice steady.
“One life,” he said. “If one of you dies, the bond breaks. The curse ends. The other walks free.”
My breath caught.
The bond flared—hot, electric—ripping through my chest like a blade. I stumbled back, my hand flying to my neck, to the mark that pulsed in time with Kaelen’s heartbeat. The one that had burned for him, ached for him, chosen him.
And now—
Now I could end it.
By ending myself.
“You’re lying,” I said, stepping forward. “There’s another way. There has to be.”
Mael didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “I wish I were. But I’ve searched the archives. I’ve spoken to the oldest witches, the oldest fae. This is the only way. And you know it.”
I did.
Deep in my bones, I knew it.
Because I’d seen it before. In the Iron Grove. In the pyre. In the way my mother had looked at me before the flames took her—like she was already gone, like she had already chosen.
“And if I don’t want to die?” I asked, lifting my chin. “If I want to burn it all down instead?”
“Then you do,” he said. “But know this—Kaelen won’t let you. He’ll fight you. He’ll chain you. He’ll silence you. And if you die trying, he’ll burn the world with you.”
My breath came in short, desperate gasps.
Because he was right.
Kaelen would burn the world for me.
And that was the worst part.
“So what do you want from me?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Do you want me to walk away? To go back to being the avenger? To burn it all down and leave him in the ashes?”
“No,” he said. “I want you to see. To understand that love isn’t weakness. That mercy isn’t failure. That justice doesn’t have to come from fire.”
“Then how?” I asked. “How do I make her pay without becoming her?”
He stepped closer. “By being better. By proving that you don’t need to destroy to be powerful. That you can lead. That you can rule.”
I stared at him. “You sound like you know something.”
“I do,” he said. “But not here. Not now. Meet me tonight. In the old sanctuary. The one beneath the eastern wing.”
“Why not now?”
“Because he’s coming,” Mael said, glancing past me.
I turned.
Kaelen stood in the doorway, his coat slung over one shoulder, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light. He didn’t look at Mael. Just at me. Watching. Waiting. Always watching.
“Symphony,” he said, voice low. “We need to talk.”
“We always do,” I said, stepping toward him. “And we never say anything.”
He didn’t smile. Just reached for my hand, his fingers brushing mine. The bond flared—hot, electric—feeding on the tension between us.
“Then let’s say something,” he said.
Mael cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to it.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Just stepped back into the shadows and vanished like smoke.
“You shouldn’t trust him,” Kaelen said, his grip tightening on my hand.
“You don’t get to tell me who to trust,” I said, pulling away. “Not after everything.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” he said. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“And I’m not fragile,” I snapped. “I don’t need protecting.”
“No,” he said. “But you’re mine. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone—human, fae, or Unseelie—hurt you.”
I wanted to hate him. To push him away. To remind him that I came here to burn it all down, not to be claimed.
But I couldn’t.
Because he was looking at me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
Like I was the fire, and he was the man who would burn with me.
“Mael says the blood-oath can be broken,” I said, my voice quiet. “But only if one of us dies.”
He didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, his body caging mine against the wall. One hand braced beside my head. The other rested on my hip, fingers pressing through the fabric of my gown.
“Then let it be me,” he said, voice a growl.
My breath caught.
“No,” I whispered. “I won’t let you.”
“And I won’t let you,” he said. “So we’re at an impasse.”
“Then what do we do?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Do we just live like this? Bound. Cursed. Trapped?”
“No,” he said. “We fight. We survive. We win.”
“And if we can’t?”
“Then we burn together,” he said, his thumb brushing the bond mark. “But we don’t die alone.”
Tears burned my eyes.
And then—because I was weak, because I was tired, because the bond was screaming in my veins—I did the one thing I knew would break the moment.
I kissed him.
Not gently. Not sweetly.
Hard. Angry. A collision of lips and teeth and pent-up fury. I wanted to hurt him. To punish him. To make him feel the chaos I carried inside.
But he didn’t pull away.
He kissed me back.
One hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip, pulling me onto my back, his body pressing into mine. His mouth was hot, demanding, his fangs grazing my lip. The bond roared—a wildfire in my veins. My hands clawed at his shoulders. My legs tangled with his. The heat was unbearable. The need—
Then the door burst open.
We broke apart, gasping, hearts racing. Torin stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“Alpha,” he said. “The Council summons you. Now.”
Kaelen didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at me, his breath heavy, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
“I’ll be there,” he said, voice rough.
Torin nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Silence.
Then Kaelen sat up, running a hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”
“No,” I said, sitting up too. “We don’t.”
“Symphony—”
“That didn’t mean anything,” I said, standing. “It was the bond. The sickness. It—”
“Liar,” he said, standing too. “You wanted it. You kissed me.”
“Because I was angry!”
“And I wasn’t?” he shot back. “You think I don’t feel it? The pull? The fire? The way my wolf howls every time you’re near?”
I didn’t answer. Because I could feel it too. The way my body ached for him. The way my voice trembled when he looked at me. The way the bond pulsed, hungry, insistent.
“This changes nothing,” I said.
“It changes everything,” he said. “And you know it.”
I turned away. “I came here to burn it all down.”
“And I’m here to stop you,” he said. “But not because I want to. Because I have to.”
“Then do it,” I said. “Chain me. Silence me. Whatever it takes.”
He stepped closer. “And if I don’t want to?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I was afraid.
Not of the curse.
Not of the Council.
But of what would happen if he chose me over duty.
If he followed me into the fire.
And I realized—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We have a Council to face.”
I didn’t look at him. “And then what?”
“Then,” he said, voice low, “we see if we can survive each other.”
I closed my eyes.
Because I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Not anymore.
But that night, I didn’t go to my chambers.
Didn’t go to the gardens.
Went straight to the armory.
Not to train. Not to prepare for war.
To pack.
The armory was quiet at this hour—torchlight flickering against the stone walls, weapons lining the racks, the scent of oil and steel thick in the air. I sat on the edge of a weapons bench, my fingers tracing the grooves in the ancient wood. The bond pulsed beneath my skin, soft, steady, but beneath it—tension. A warning. Not from Kaelen. Not from the curse.
From me.
Because I knew—deep in my bones—that I was losing myself. Not to him. Not to the bond.
To the lie I’d been living.
I had come here to burn it all down. To destroy the Fae High Court. To avenge my mother. To prove that I was not weak. Not broken. Not a weapon to be used.
And yet—
Here I was.
Waiting for the man who had once been my enemy to look at me like I was something worth saving.
And I couldn’t do it anymore.
So I packed.
A small satchel. Just enough for a few days. A dagger. My mother’s journal. The silver locket she’d worn the day they burned her. And my voice—wrapped in silence, ready to sing.
I didn’t plan to run.
I planned to die.
Not in the Iron Grove. Not at Lysara’s hands.
Here. Now. By my own choice. So that Kaelen could live. So that he could be free. So that the world wouldn’t burn with me.
And then—
The door burst open.
I didn’t startle. Didn’t turn. Just kept packing, my fingers trembling, my breath steady.
“You’re not leaving,” Kaelen said, his voice a growl.
“I’m not yours to keep,” I said, not looking at him.
“You already are,” he said, stepping into the room. His boots were heavy on stone, his presence a wall of heat and power. “And if you think I’ll let you walk out that door, you don’t know me at all.”
I finally turned to him. “I don’t want to know you. I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to be bound to you, cursed to you, claimed by you.”
“Too bad,” he said, stepping closer. “Because you are. And I’m not letting you die for me.”
“It’s not for you,” I said, lifting my chin. “It’s for me. For my mother. For the life I was supposed to have.”
“And what about the life you could have?” he asked, stepping into my space. His hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “With me?”
My breath caught.
“I don’t want it,” I whispered.
“Liar,” he said, his other hand sliding to my waist, pulling me close. “You want it. You’ve always wanted it. And now—” His mouth brushed my ear. “—now you’ve got a mark that burns for me. A voice that answers to me. A body that aches for me.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because he was right.
And because the worst part wasn’t that I wanted him.
It was that I loved him.
“You don’t get to choose for me,” I said, stepping back. “You don’t get to decide my fate.”
“And you don’t get to decide mine,” he said, stepping closer. “If you die, I die. Not from the curse. From you. From losing you. From knowing I couldn’t save you.”
“Then let me go,” I said, tears in my eyes. “Let me end it. Let me break the curse. Let me—”
“No,” he said, cutting me off. He pinned me to the wall, his body caging mine, his hands on either side of my head. “You don’t get to leave me. You don’t get to walk away. You don’t get to die and leave me here, burning in the ashes of what we could’ve been.”
“Then what do you want?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Do you want me to stay? To fight? To love you?”
“Yes,” he said, his mouth at my neck. “All of it. Every part of you. Every breath. Every song. Every heartbeat. I want it. I need it. I am it.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not gently. Not sweetly.
Hard. Hungry. A collision of lips and teeth and tongues. I didn’t fight him. Didn’t push him away. Just kissed him back—fierce, aching, my hands clawing at his shoulders, my body pressing into his.
The bond roared.
A wildfire in my veins.
When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
“You’re not leaving,” he said, voice rough. “Not tonight. Not ever. You’re mine. And I’m not letting go.”
I didn’t answer.
Just dropped the satchel.
And let him hold me.
Because I was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of hating.
Tired of being alone.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to be.
“Then fight with me,” I whispered, my face buried in his chest. “Not for me. Not against me. With me. As my equal. As my partner. As the man who chooses me—not because of the bond, not because of duty, but because he wants to.”
He didn’t answer.
Just held me tighter.
And for the first time—
I believed him.