The palace corridors were silent at dawn.
Not peaceful—never that—but strained, as if the stone walls themselves were holding their breath. Torches burned low along the curved halls, their flames steady and unnatural, fueled by magic rather than oil. Every sound felt amplified: the soft echo of boots, the faint rustle of fabric, the quiet cadence of controlled breathing.
I walked beside Lucien Draven.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I had to.
The bond hummed steadily in my chest, no longer sharp enough to cripple me, but impossible to ignore. It was like an invisible tether, pulling gently but relentlessly, adjusting my pace to his without my consent. Whenever I lagged even half a step behind, the pressure increased—a reminder, subtle but firm.
"You're fighting it again," Lucien said without turning his head.
"I don't enjoy being dragged like a possession," I replied.
"You're not being dragged," he said calmly. "You're resisting."
I clenched my jaw and focused straight ahead. The corridor curved toward massive doors etched with imperial sigils. Even without seeing beyond them, I knew where we were headed.
The Council chamber.
My stomach twisted.
"You didn't say anything about facing the Council today," I said.
"You didn't ask."
I shot him a glare. "You enjoy that answer far too much."
Lucien slowed abruptly.
The bond tightened instantly, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I stumbled a half-step closer, breath hitching as my chest warmed painfully.
He turned to face me.
Up close, his presence was overwhelming—not just power, but control. Everything about him was restrained, deliberate, as if he were constantly holding something dangerous in check.
"You need to understand something," he said quietly. "The Council already knows about you."
"That they tried to kill me?" I snapped.
"That you survived," he corrected. "That changes things."
Before I could respond, the doors ahead began to open.
The sound echoed through the corridor like a warning bell.
Conversation inside the chamber died instantly.
The Council hall was vast and circular, marble floors polished to a mirror-like sheen. Tiered seating rose high, occupied by nobles, military commanders, high-ranking mages, and clerics draped in ceremonial robes. Power sat in every chair.
And every gaze turned toward us.
Toward me.
"That's her."
"The condemned mage."
"Draven's contract…"
Whispers rippled outward, sharp and curious. I felt them crawl over my skin, weighing me, judging me, searching for cracks.
Lucien placed a hand at the small of my back.
The contact was brief.
Deliberate.
Possessive.
The bond responded instantly—warmth spreading through my chest, grounding my breath despite the surge of panic. I hated that my body leaned into it instinctively.
Lucien guided me forward, stopping at the center of the chamber.
"The binding is complete," he announced calmly. "Barrier stabilization will begin tonight."
A murmur swept through the room.
One of the nobles leaned forward. "And if the girl fails?"
"She won't," Lucien replied without hesitation.
I bristled. "You don't get to decide that."
His fingers pressed more firmly into my back—a warning.
The High Priest rose slowly from his seat, his gaze sharp and calculating. "You appear… stable, Lyra Veyne."
"For now," I said.
Unease rippled through the chamber.
"The Empire cannot afford uncertainty," the High Priest said. "See that she remains cooperative."
Lucien inclined his head slightly. "She will."
The words hadn't fully settled when pain exploded through my chest.
Not the controlled ache of the bond.
This was different.
Violent. Invasive.
I gasped as hostile magic slammed into my senses, sharp and predatory, like claws raking across my soul. My vision blurred, knees buckling.
Lucien reacted instantly.
His hand snapped around my wrist, power flaring outward in a protective barrier that cracked audibly as it formed. "Assassins," he said calmly.
Chaos erupted.
Black-clad figures burst from the shadows between the columns, magic igniting in lethal arcs. A blade whistled toward my throat.
Lucien moved.
One moment he was beside me—the next, he was in front of me, shadows folding around him as steel and magic collided with blinding speed. The bond flared white-hot as his power surged, dragging my magic with it whether I wanted it or not.
I screamed as our energies tangled violently.
"Focus!" Lucien barked. "Don't fight it—guide it!"
I had no time to argue.
I reached inward, grabbing hold of the chaos inside me, forcing it into shape instead of letting it tear free. The sensation was overwhelming—terrifying and intimate, like baring something raw and vulnerable.
Together, our magic detonated outward.
The blast slammed into the attackers, throwing them across the chamber like broken dolls. Stone cracked. Marble shattered. Bodies hit the floor with sickening force.
Silence fell.
Smoke curled through the air.
Blood stained the pristine marble.
My legs gave out.
Lucien caught me before I collapsed, one arm firm around my waist, anchoring me as the bond settled into a low, steady pulse.
For a moment, everything else faded—the Council, the bodies, the danger.
There was only him.
His breath brushed my ear. "You see now," he murmured. "Why they'll never let you go."
I looked up at him, heart pounding.
And realized something far worse than the attack.
They hadn't come for Lucien.
They had come for me.