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LILLITH

L illith Verdan had one rule when it came to magic: never rush the ritual.

Tonight, she'd broken it.

The chalk was still damp in places. She’d drawn the elder fae sigils too fast, hands trembling just slightly from too many nights without sleep.

And she hadn’t had time to balance the grounding crystal, not properly.

It lay off-center at the southern point of the circle—a fraction of an inch, but it might as well have been a mile in spellwork this precise.

She’d told herself it would be fine. Told herself she could control it. That the summoning wouldn’t spiral.

But then Dominic Kane walked in, all swagger and bad timing, and the spell—already strained—had snapped like a thread pulled too tight.

And now they were locked in.

The back room of The Spellbound Sip, once cozy with its warm lighting and walls lined with potion books and tea tins, now felt like a sealed vault.

The wooden door slammed shut behind them with a gust of wind from nowhere, and the candles lining the ritual circle snuffed out in unison. Darkness pressed in.

Lillith spun around, her heart thundering. “No, no, no?—”

She barely got her hands up in time before the air inside the circle pulsed with a flash of sickly green light. The chalk lines she’d etched glowed, then cracked, splintering like ice on a pond.

And something stepped through.

Thaloryn.

He looked exactly as she remembered him, which was infuriating.

Same flawless fae beauty—too tall, too elegant, silver-white hair cascading over shoulders like moonlight, eyes like shattered glass and smiles that never quite touched them.

Dressed in robes spun from shadow and starlight, he stood in the center of the broken circle as though he belonged there. As though she had invited him in.

Which, technically, she had.

“Lillith,” he said, voice a whisper and a blade. “Still summoning in borrowed rooms, I see.”

Her fingers twitched toward the satchel on her hip. “What are you doing here?”

“I believe you called,” he said, stepping forward. The sigils sparked beneath his feet but didn’t stop him. “Quite the welcome party, though. I expected something… warmer.”

“You weren’t supposed to come through.” She backed away, heart pounding harder now. “You were supposed to answer. Not—manifest.”

“Oh, darling,” he purred, tilting his head. “You never could resist breaking your own rules.”

Dominic, standing frozen beside the circle, bristled. “Who the hell is that?”

“My mistake,” Thaloryn said, eyes sliding to Dominic. “I didn’t realize your summoning circle was meant to trap stray cats.”

Lillith flinched. “Thaloryn, don’t.”

He grinned. “But it’s such fun.” Then he raised one hand.

The air turned to ice.

Magic coiled like a whip and lashed out, striking both her and Dominic at the same time. Lillith gasped as her knees hit the floor, pain lancing through her chest. Her bones screamed. Her heart shuddered.

Beside her, Dominic cursed, then dropped to one knee, clutching his ribs.

The world stilled. The magic settled.

And something new wrapped around her like a second skin. Heavy. Binding. Alive.

Thaloryn exhaled, pleased. “There. Now you can’t hide behind your little town anymore.”

Lillith forced herself up, eyes glowing faintly with the power she was trying to suppress. “What did you do?”

He looked at her like she was a curious insect. “I tethered your souls. Inescapably. An unbreakable bond, forged in cursefire and sealed by proximity. You’ll never be more than thirty feet apart again. Unless, of course… you’d like to try dying.”

Dominic barked out a breath. “You what ?!”

Thaloryn stepped back toward the fading circle. “Good luck, darlings. I imagine it’ll be cozy.” He winked at Lillith. “Try not to kill each other too quickly.”

And with that, he vanished. One final flash of light. One final hum of power. Then—silence.

The circle was dark. The door still sealed. Lillith’s ears rang.

She turned.

Dominic was staring at her like she’d kicked his dog.

“What the hell was that?” he growled, voice low and raw.

“That was Thaloryn,” she said, moving stiffly toward the broken runes. “High fae prince. My father’s former court rival. Slightly unhinged.”

“ Slightly ?!”

She winced. “He’s got a flair for dramatics. And curses, apparently.”

Dominic stepped closer. “Did you mean to summon him?”

“No! I was trying to get answers—he knows things about the Moonlit Pact. About the shifts in the Whispering Woods.” Her jaw clenched. “He wasn’t supposed to come through. ”

“You always summon volatile fae princes without backup?”

She rounded on him. “I didn’t ask you to walk into the circle! What were you even doing back there?”

“I smelled something off,” he said. “I was checking it out.”

“Well, congratulations,” she snapped. “Now we’re cursed. Together.”

He muttered something under his breath and began pacing. “So, what does this ‘inescapable bond’ even mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said, which tasted like ash in her mouth. She always knew. That was the whole point of being who she was—studious, careful, methodical. But this? This had gone off the rails the moment he’d walked in.

And gods help her, part of her didn’t mind.

She glanced at him. Golden eyes. Thick, tousled hair. Muscles that had no business being that distracting. And even now, even furious and tense, he radiated heat and steadiness like a furnace.

Her heart hated her for noticing.

She rubbed her arms. “We need Hazel.”

“Great. Love a good cryptic prophecy.”

“And Twyla,” she added. “If anyone knows a workaround, it’s her.”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” he said.

“What?”

“We’re still locked in.”

Right. The door. Sealed by Thaloryn’s magic—or maybe her own miscast runes. Either way, they were stuck together. Trapped. With nothing but a failed summoning circle, the afterburn of cursefire, and an overwhelming urge to scream.

Lillith sighed and dropped into a chair. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Dominic sat across from her, arms crossed. “Worse. It’s going to be interesting. ”