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Time’s up. The spell is fraying!

Clawing back tattered magic, I cast the transportation orb with my last shred of control and unceremoniously dump a baffled Draven into its vortex.

The absence hits me like a sledgehammer, and I collapse, gasping.

Well, I got my wish. No more entanglements or heartache. Just me and solitude once more.

Why does victory feel so cold and hollow?

I curl around the gaping wound in my chest, sobs wracking my frame. I’ve never experienced agony like the severing of our short-lived bond. It smothers me until I’m numb, and I long for just one more moment by the fire with him, secrets be damned.

9

Draven

The wind gets knocked outta me as I’m spat out right in front of the royal castle gates. One second I’m standing in Thorn’s cozy cottage, the next—bam—back in civilization faster than you can shout “goodbye.”

Still catching my breath, I gape up at the imposing fortress of stone looming above. Everdusk Castle’s spiked towers pierce the cloud-streaked winter sky, banners emblazoned with House Valisar’s crest flapping from the parapets. The last dregs of daylight wash the pale stone edifice in rosy hues. Looks like I made it back to the vampiric nest right on target.

As I get my bearings, memories of Thorn’s panic-stricken face flood my mind. Her voice echoes in my mind. “Storm’s passed. Time to be on your way!”Then, poof! Teleportation spell to the face and here I am.

What the hells went down back there? One minute, we’re all snuggled up sipping tea. The next, she can’t blast me outta her life fast enough and right after that spell mishap too, the one that somehow psychically tethered us before she got spooked.

I press my palm to my chest where an odd ache throbs. It feels like she clawed into my ribcage and ripped something vital out. Is this some lingering effect of our mental connection snapping so suddenly? Yet, this hollow pain feels deeper than physical, like a piece of my soul got left behind in her little cottage. So damn bizarre.

The creak of iron gates shake me from my daze. Right, oughta actually enter my ancestral abode now that I’ve spent who knows how long awkwardly loitering outside the place. The guards stare at me like they’ve seen a ghost as I stroll past into the bustling courtyard, which is carpeted in a fresh dusting of snow. Can’t blame ’em. Last they heard, I got buried in a freak avalanche on my travels. Yet here I am, without a scratch somehow. Well, besides the gaping emotional wound anyway.

The guards’ shock mirrors my own. I was warm and content in Thorn’s cottage. Now, I’m back in the imposing coldness of the castle courtyard.

“Prince Draven, you’re alive!” another guard exclaims, rushing forward.

I nod vaguely, still dazed. “Yes, I… managed to take shelter in a cottage before the worst hit.”

My words come out distant, my thoughts still consumed by Thorn’s panicked face as she shoved me into that transportation spell. Why had she been so frantic to make me leave?

The guards chatter excitedly, but their voices blur together into meaningless noise. Pain continues to pulse through my head and heart—hers, not mine. Our severed bond must have left some faint echo of connection.

I sway on my feet from a fresh wave of crushing heartache. Again, hers. Thorn must be in pure anguish for it to bleed over into me like this. I press a palm to my chest, willing my own emotions to remain separate.

“Prince Draven?” The guard’s voice filters through again, tinged with concern now. “Are you well? We should inform the king right away of your return.”

I blink hard, trying to focus on his words. “No need to trouble my father yet. I’m simply… weary from travels.” I attempt to smile reassuringly. “Let me rest before presenting myself.”

The guards exchange a look but don’t argue. I take advantage of their lingering awe to extricate myself and make my way swiftly across the courtyard before more servants descend, pelting me with questions I cannot answer.

Not when my every thought bends toward Thorn.

Foreign emotions—pain, regret, and sorrow—batter my mind like a hurricane. Thorn’s anguish bleeds through our fading bond, assaulting my senses.

I press my palm harder against my chest, struggling to stay upright under the onslaught. Her weeping echoes faintly, as if carried on the wind. My fingers dig into the stone walls for support as we pass through the grand archway.

Thorn’s presence surrounds me, though she’s nowhere to be seen. It’s like I carry the ghost of her within me. I blink back hot tears that are not my own. I must retain control and keep my fractured composure…

“Draven!”

My mother’s voice cuts through the haze as she sweeps into the courtyard, flanked by her ladies-in-waiting. Queen Vespera’s emerald gown billows around her, the skirt’s golden embroidery glinting in the torchlight. An ornate silver circlet crowns her flowing raven hair streaked with white. Her ageless pale face is lined with concern, cheeks flushed from hurrying outside to greet me.

I straighten instinctively before her assessing gaze. It’s her eyes, the same piercing silver as my own, that truly give me pause. They see through veils and shadows to cut right to the heart of matters. I resist the urge to shrink back from their knowing stare.