Chapter Twenty-Five
“Tell me again,” she asked calmly, “What were the colours of each wall?”
Dominik didn’t hesitate. “Black. Grey. Gold. And Red.”
Kat's smile widened just slightly. “Just as I thought.”
She leaned forward then, elbows resting on her knees, gaze sweeping across the room.
“Now,” Kat said carefully, “can any of you, council members or otherwise, tell me when a mate bond was ever officially registered between a caster and one of the five factions?”
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Rian was the first to break it. “Holy shit,” he breathed, eyes snapping to Lennox.
Cameron frowned deeply, turning toward Alastair. “There have to be records. Mates aren’t rare. There are bonds between factions all the time, and with humans. Casters included. There have to be bonded casters out there.”
Alastair shook his head slowly. “From memory alone, I’ve encountered caster-to-caster bonds. Even caster-to-human. But I don’t recall a single instance of a caster bonded to a supernatural faction member.”
Kat nodded. “Exactly.”
She leaned back against Mareken’s chest again, thoughtful now.
“That question came up when I was training. I asked my fae tutor the same thing. She taught me everything she knew about casters: especially how they interact with magic.” Kat’s gaze sharpened.
“I was surprised then. But I also knew it was only a matter of time.”
She reached for the folder and lifted the page she’d been studying earlier.
“When you came to me in court,” she said, tapping the paper, “I already knew your mate bond was unprecedented. But what Alastair said earlier reminded me of something I’d nearly forgotten.”
Her voice lowered. “Casters cannot physically manifest ether without an external power source. Anchors. Which is why Darren needed multiple faction bloodlines to enact the Essence Extraction Spell.”
The room erupted in low growls. Kat ignored them.
“As a caster bonded to supernaturals,” she continued evenly, “Anabelle doesn’t need an external anchor. She has access to you through the bond. All four of you.”
Cameron’s eyes widened slowly, as the information started to sink in. “The colours,” he murmured. “Grey for Rian’s wolf. Black for Joshua’s. Red for Dom’s demon. Gold for my essence.”
“Exactly,” Kat said, unmistakable satisfaction in her tone.
Silence followed.
“She has no hard limit on her ether manipulation,” Kat went on, meeting each of their gazes in turn, “because she doesn’t need to search for power. She has it. Constantly.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Which, if you ask me, is perfect.”
“Perfect?” Lennox repeated incredulously. “Baby, that’s not perfect. That’s terrifying. She could theoretically do anything. With no ceiling. No checks. It’s....”
“Worrying,” Alastair finished gently.
Kat shook her head. “It isn’t. She’s no different than the Fae.
She’s human sure, but instead of manipulating elements, she manipulates ether.
And the rest... She can do spells the same way you can Alastair.
Mostly by herself, and when she needs to do something big, like you did by purifying me years ago, she’ll draw from her mates. ”
She stood then, finally rising from Mareken’s lap, voice firm. “I told you, unprecedented doesn’t mean dangerous. It means new. After the first, more will follow. They always do. And we adapt. We always have.”
She gestured toward the window, toward the world beyond the estate.
“If she hadn’t been bonded to them, she would have died.
I’m almost certain of it. Based on what the extraction team recovered, she was able to incinerate the demon because of Cameron’s fire affinity.
” Her gaze softened. “That isn’t a flaw. It’s a perfect balance.”
She paused, then added quietly, “And more than that, she’s kind. Grounded. She’s lived her entire life believing she was human. She doesn’t crave power. She doesn’t seek dominion.”
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the hallway where Anabelle rested.
“She’s the right person for this. Far better her than someone who grew up knowing what they were, raised with entitlement and expectations.”
Marek exhaled slowly. “You’re right, Kitten. We’ll take it day by day. But she will need training. She’ll need to prove to us and the Caster Board, that she can control it.”
Kat turned sharply toward the couch, eyes bright. “And she will,” she said with certainty. “Won’t she, boys?”
Four sets of eyes locked onto hers. Their heads were spinning with information, layer upon layer stacking too fast to properly settle.
Holy gods above, they thought. The realization hit them all at once: Anabelle had drawn on their bond.
Used it instinctively. Not for power. Not for destruction.
But to live. To protect herself. To protect her brother.
Despite the worry gnawing at their chests, despite the fear of what this meant for the future, something warmer threaded through them. Pride. She hadn’t broken. She hadn’t run from what she was capable of. She had stood her ground.
Dominik was the first to speak, his voice steady but thick with emotion.
“She will,” he said firmly. “She’ll complete the training.
We’ll make sure of it. She doesn’t mean anyone any harm.
She doesn’t want power, or control, or to overstep anything.
She just wants her freedom as a registered caster. ”
Mareken studied him for a long moment, then nodded once.
Dominik released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
But Lennox wasn’t done. “All right,” the shifter High Leader said, arms crossing. “Now that we understand what happened, how do we proceed?”
Rian stiffened. “What do you mean, High Leader?” The worry in his voice was unmistakable.
“The demon was executed,” Lennox replied evenly. “You understand we cannot simply ignore that. Even if it was in self-defense.” His gaze sharpened. “He was awaiting trial. Families were waiting for justice, closure. To them, this will look like he escaped consequence.”
Kat tipped her head back, staring briefly at the ceiling as if asking the universe for patience, then looked back at the four males. “He’s right,” she said quietly. “The council cannot appear biased. That’s precisely why a trial was scheduled in the first place.”
Silence stretched.
Then Joshua spoke. “I can go in her stead.”
Every head snapped toward him.
Rian, Cameron, and Dominik stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. Kat looked stunned. And the High Leaders: Lennox, Mareken, and Alastair, regarded him with something else entirely. Respect.
Joshua didn’t falter under the weight of their attention. “Charge me,” he said. “For the unlawful execution of the demon. No one outside this room, the council, and the extraction team knows exactly how he died. Let it be me.”
The room was utterly still.
“Give me the full trial,” he continued, voice rough but resolute. “Let the families see that justice was served, that someone paid. Anabelle needs to finish her training. She needs to be registered. She deserves her freedom. So say I killed him.”
Kat’s voice, when it came, was gentle, and uncertain. “Joshua… you know the minimum sentence for that charge is five years imprisonment. At least. Depending on circumstances. If we proceed, there’s no undoing the trial.”
He nodded once. “I know.” A beat. “I’ll come back,” he added quietly. “After. If she’ll even have me then.”
Silence pressed down again, heavier this time.
Then Kat exhaled, something breaking and hardening all at once in her expression. “All right,” she said softly. “This is what we’ll do.”
Everyone leaned in.
“You will all escort her to the Program,” Kat continued.
“All four of you, will stick to the protection detail I’ve assigned you.
I’ll set the charges in motion quietly. The trial will be scheduled for five weeks from now.
” Her gaze locked on Joshua. “You’ll have one week with her after she completes training before you’re summoned to court. ”
Joshua’s shoulders sagged in relief.
“Meanwhile,” Kat went on, voice sharpening with resolve, “I’ll comb through every bylaw, every precedent, every clause I can find.
Even though my word carries the final judgement in trial, I’ll need to be careful not to tip off the elders, They will ask for an explanation for my sentencing.
” She stepped closer to him. “We’ll figure this out, Joshua.
I won’t let you sacrifice both of your futures. ”
He swallowed, nodded.
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he said quietly, “Please… don’t tell her.”
Kat lifted an eyebrow.
“I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and tenderness warring in his expression. “I don’t want her distracted. Or worrying over something that isn’t her fault. She didn’t know. She was protecting herself.” His voice dropped. “She needs to pass. She’s already carrying too much.”
Understanding passed between the High Leaders like a silent accord.
“All right,” Kat said finally. “If that’s your wish.”
She straightened, clapping her hands once, decisively. “Now, go. Make her breakfast, wake her up gently. The Program is expecting her arrival in five hours.”
The room shifted. The weight didn’t vanish, but purpose settled in its place.
And for the first time since this all began, there was a path forward.