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Not with fire. Not with steel. But with quiet steps and swallowed screams and men like me walking through shadowed streets with no one to watch us bleed.
She’s waiting.
And I’m being dragged straight into her arms.
A sharp crack splits through the spell like a gunshot in still water.
White flashes in my vision as my knees buckle. The cobblestones catch me like punishment, unforgiving and cold. My cheek kisses the stone, and then my body folds the rest of the way, every muscle seizing in confusion, in rage, in—
Relief.
For one blissful second, I can’t hear her voice anymore. No sweet rot, no whispered command threading itself into my blood. Just silence.
And the heavy sound of breathing above me.
“Didn’t think I’d have to knock out our fearless leader this morning,” Riven mutters, voice flat, but I can hear it—barely contained fury.It drips from every word like venom. “But you were walking like a fucking puppet, Virelius.”
I don’t open my eyes. I don’t move. I’m trying to piece myself back together before she finds another way in.
The weight of Riven’s boot nudges my shoulder, then his voice drops lower. “Tell me it was her. Tell me you didn’t just decide to go see Branwen for a cozy little reunion on your own.”
I manage a breath. One word.
“Yes.”
It’s not enough. But it’s all I can give.
His silence stretches like a blade across my spine. I know what he’s thinking—how long he’d been watching, how close he came to letting me keep walking. And then: “She’s got you tied tighter than I thought.”
“She’s in the bond,” I grind out. “Usingmy ownDominion to make me move.”
Riven swears under his breath. Low. Sharp. He crouches beside me, grabs my collar, yanks me halfway upright until my back slams against the nearest wall. “We need to sever it. Before she uses you like a goddamn weapon.”
“Iama weapon,” I hiss.
He doesn’t flinch. Just looks at me, red eyes glowing like embers in the early morning gloom.
“Not against her,” he says. “Notforher.”
His grip loosens. Just slightly. Enough that I can breathe again.
The bond is quiet. But not gone. She’s waiting. Watching. Always.
Riven straightens and offers me his hand. I hesitate. Then take it.
He pulls me up hard and fast, like he’s punishing me for taking so long to fight back.
As I stand, I catch the faintest sound—wind moving through the banners of the festival, bells clinking faintly in the distance. The village looks the same. But I’m not stupid.
Something has shifted.
And we’re running out of time.
“Let’s go,” Riven says. “Before she figures out I interrupted her little puppet show.”
Riven stalks off ahead of me, hands clenched at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to punch me again—just for good measure. My jaw aches where his fist landed, and there's blood in my mouth, bitter and metallic, but it’s the ringing silence inside the bond that rattles me most.
For now, she’s gone.