Page 28

Malrik

The bond still lingers in my veins like a phantom touch, curling through my chest with echoes of emotions that aren’t mine. But unlike Kieran, I know how to control myself. I compartmentalize, lock it away, deal with it later when I’m not surrounded by witnesses to my unraveling.

I turn away from the trees where I left him—still caught in his own personal hell, still standing there hard and shattered by the bond he forced on all of us.

Pathetic.

I don’t need to see the wreckage on his face to know he’s breaking. The bond made sure we all felt it—Kaia’s joy, her pleasure, the way she melted into Finn like he was gravity itself. The difference is, I don’t let it consume me.

I understand what she needs. What they both need. And my own complicated feelings about wanting them both more than I ever thought possible? That’s my problem to sort through, not theirs.

I shove my hands into my pockets as I move through the stone corridors of the sanctuary, ignoring the old ghosts that press at the edges of my consciousness. This place carries too much history, too many memories of the boy I used to be before everything went to hell.

I don’t linger. Don’t stop to examine the familiar architecture or the way shadows fall differently here than anywhere else. Don’t give in to the pull of a past that belongs to someone else entirely.

This was my home once.

Now it’s just another cage with prettier bars.

I take the longer route through the training grounds, avoiding the main passages where I might encounter anyone else from our group. The torches burn bright against ancient stone, flickering in the humid air that seeps through open archways.

It’s unsettling how much of this place still feels familiar despite the years I’ve spent trying to forget it. The way my footsteps echo in certain corridors. The particular scent of old magic and older secrets that clings to everything here.

I should be used to ghosts by now. I carry enough of them.

But this place is different. This is where I learned what it meant to become one.

I’m rounding the next corner, lost in thoughts I’d rather not examine, when I find Mira leaning casually against the stone railing, watching me with that same unreadable expression she always wears.

She doesn’t speak at first, just tilts her head slightly, her silver eyes glinting in the firelight.

“You always did like lurking in the shadows.”

Her voice is smooth, edged with something familiar. Something almost reminiscent.

I lift a brow. “And you always did like watching from a safe distance. ”

Her smirk deepens. “I prefer to assess the battlefield before I step onto it.”

I know what she’s doing. Mira has always been drawn to power—not to people, not to love, not to loyalty. Power. And now, she’s trying to see how much of it I still have.

She pushes off the railing, taking a step closer. “You’re restless.”

I don’t respond.

Her gaze flicks over me, sharp and searching. Not in attraction, in evaluation.

“Was it hard for you, Malrik?”

I let out a slow breath, my patience thinning. “Be more specific.”

Her smirk lingers, but there’s something speculative in her eyes. “The bond.”

I don’t react, but I know she sees the tension in my shoulders.

She takes another step, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her magic, smooth and contained. “You felt it too.”

It’s not a question.

I meet her gaze, cold and unmoving. “Everyone in the bond did.”

She hums, dragging a hand through her dark hair. “And yet, you’re the only one who walked away with your dignity intact.”

A slow, amused chuckle builds in my chest. “Are you asking if I got hard over Kaia kissing Finn?”

She shrugs, but her silver eyes don’t leave mine. “I wouldn’t judge.”

I shake my head, leaning against the nearest pillar. “No. But I did feel it.”

She watches me for a beat, her expression assessing, calculating. “And?”

I tilt my head, studying her in return. “ And what?”

Her lips curve, but it’s not playful. It’s testing. “And how did it make you feel?”

I let the silence stretch before I answer.

“Like I already knew.”

She blinks, but I don’t elaborate.

Because I did know. Kaia isn’t some prize to be won. She’s not some fragile thing waiting to be claimed. She’s choosing. And I? I’m waiting for her to choose me too.

Mira steps closer, close enough that I know this isn’t just conversation anymore. Her gaze lingers on mine, her pupils dilating slightly.

She lifts a hand, trailing one finger along the sleeve of my shirt, a test. One to sate her curiosity.

“What are you doing, Mira?” My voice stays steady, but I don’t move away.

She tilts her head, considering me. “Testing a theory.”

“About?”

“Power.” Her silver eyes catalog the changes in me, the sharper edges, the way shadows respond to my presence now like they recognize something that wasn’t there before. “You’re different than you were as a boy.”

She traces her fingers down my forearm, just the barest brush of contact, waiting to see if I’ll react. If I’ll let her.

I don’t.

I catch her wrist before she can move any further, grip firm but not unkind.

She exhales softly, her smirk deepening. “Interesting. ”

My jaw tightens. “Is it?”

She watches me, something calculating in her expression. “Most men would have reacted by now. One way or another.”

My grip tightens, just for a second, before I release her. “I’m not most men.”

For the first time, something flickers across her face, something almost like genuine interest. But it’s gone before I can name it.

She exhales softly, stepping back. “No. You’re not.”

I give her a slow, humorless smile. “Was that your conclusion?”

She tilts her head, studying me one last time before turning to walk away. “Among others.”

I close my eyes, inhaling deep, letting the silence settle.

This place is trying to pull me back into old patterns. But I’m not the boy who left this realm in desperation and shame.

And I’m sure as hell not the prince they lost.