Chapter 3
THREE
LINDSAY
Dorian doesn’t let go of my hand once I place it on his forearm. He keeps it there, fingers lightly curled over mine, as though we’re some kind of royal couple making a grand entrance to a ball instead of threading through a stunned courtyard full of whispering students and flickering wards.
And maybe we are, metaphorically at least.
I’m acutely aware of the way his arm feels beneath my fingers—warm, steady, corded with lean muscle that shifts subtly with every step.
More than that, though, I feel his power.
It pulses through the contact point like a living current, rich and heady, sliding over my senses the way expensive wine slides over the tongue.
There’s something intoxicating about it, something that makes my newly sharpened instincts sit up and take notice.
And threaded through all that fae wildness… a faint, unmistakable tinge of Veil magic.
I taste it on the back of my tongue—dark honey, night-blooming flowers, the metallic bite of old blood. It’s not dominant, not overpowering, but it’s there. Like he’s been brushing too close to the same fractures I’ve been living inside for weeks.
He glances sideways at me, electric blue eyes gleaming with that perpetual half-amusement, half-secrecy that makes me want to both trust him and shake him until the truth falls out.
“The Veil rifts continued while you were away,” he says casually, as though we’re discussing the weather. “I’ve been working overtime sealing them with you gone.”
I smile faintly—more edge than warmth. “Why? What do you get out of saving the students and teachers at this school?”
Nolan, walking close enough on my other side that his sleeve brushes mine with every step, sucks in a sharp breath at the harshness in my tone. Tamsin, on his right, lets out a low whistle but doesn’t interrupt. She’s watching Dorian’s face with the same sharp curiosity I feel.
Dorian doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. But I catch the tiniest flicker in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something closer to respect.
He comes to a smooth stop beneath the shadowed archway that leads into the main corridor, turning so we’re facing each other. The rest of the courtyard noise fades behind us like someone turned down the volume on the world.
His free hand lifts, slow enough that I could pull away if I wanted to. I don’t.
Fingertips brush my cheek—cool at first, then warming as they settle, tilting my face up so our eyes lock.
“For you,” he says.
Two words. Simple. Quiet. Delivered without his normal flourish or a smirk.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs anyway.
For me.
The prophecy I learned in the Veil whispers through my memory in the same moment—fragments of ancient words etched into obsidian walls, speaking of five threads bound to one heart, of a convergence that could either seal the Veil forever or tear it wide open.
One of those threads had always felt like starlight and trickery. Like him.
I still don’t know if he’s truly on my side. Or if he’s playing a longer game than even the Council can see.
But right now, with his thumb tracing the barest arc along my cheekbone and his power humming against mine like a question, I let myself feel the possibility that he might mean it.
“You really do like dramatic timing, don’t you?” I murmur.
His lips curve—just enough to show a hint of fang, just enough to remind me he’s fae and dangerous in ways most people never notice. “Only when the audience is worth it.”
Behind us, Nolan clears his throat softly. Not jealous—Nolan doesn’t do jealousy the way some might—but protective in that quiet, analytical way of his. Tamsin, on the other hand, is openly grinning.
“Okay, Prince Dangerhair,” she says, loud enough to carry. “You’ve had your moment. Move it along before the Council sends a welcome-back committee with chains and a lecture.”
Dorian chuckles, low and rich, but he doesn’t drop his hand right away. His gaze stays on mine a second longer, searching, like he’s trying to read whatever new constellations the Veil added to my eyes.
Then he steps back, offering his arm again with a theatrical little bow. “Shall we, Veilborn? I believe you have a throne of secrets to reclaim.”
I slide my hand back onto his forearm.
This time I don’t hesitate.
Nolan falls in step beside me again, his presence warm and grounding, like sunlight after too long in the dark. Tamsin grasps her hands behind her back as we continue down the hall.
“Where is Raiden?” I ask finally. He was the only one missing. The others were there.
Tamsin winces.
I come to an abrupt stop, releasing Dorian’s arm to face her fully. The sudden loss of contact makes the air feel colder against my fingers.
“What?” My voice sharpens. “Is he okay?”
Tamsin hesitates, rocking back on her heels. “Describe what you think ‘okay’ is…” she hedges, eyes flicking to Nolan as though hoping he’ll jump in and soften the blow.
Nolan exhales slowly, the sound heavy. “He’s…
not himself,” he says carefully. “Since you went through the Veil, his shifts have been unstable. Painful. The bond between you two—it’s the only thing that’s kept his kitsune form from consuming him without his family bond. Without you here to ground him…”
My stomach drops.
“He’s been stuck in partial or full shift for most of the last six weeks,” Tamsin finishes, voice gentler than usual.
“Campus rules forbid full shifting in the main buildings. His father used that—and some very old blood oaths—to lock him down in his room. He probably felt you the second you came back…but…”
His father what?
The bond pulses in response—distant, furious, and aching with a soul deep pain.
Raiden’s heat is there, but it’s muffled, as though they’ve sealed him away behind really thick glass.
I can feel the strain in it now that I focus my magic toward him, the way his beast is clawing to get out, desperate to reach me.
Guilt twists low in my gut. I’ve been so focused on my own return, my plans for revenge, my new found power…I hadn’t stopped to think what my absence might have done to him.
“He’ll break out soon. The spell that holds him is weakening—he’s too strong for them to hold him, not with you this close.
But when he does…” Dorian trails off, lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smile.
“You might want to brace yourself. Protective kitsune on a hair-trigger after weeks of separation is…intense.”
I swallow. I can’t wait for him to break free. “Take me to him.”
Tamsin’s eyes widen. “Linds, he’s not exactly in a state to receive visitors right now. He’s been destroying his quarters. The Council has warded his room so tightly even his own fire can’t burn through without consequences.”
“Then I’ll burn through them for him,” I say flatly. The Veil stirs in answer—shadows curling tighter around my ankles, pleased and eager, wanting to strike out at those in charge any way it can. “He’s mine. They don’t get to keep him from me.”
Dorian exhales—a soft, amused sound that doesn’t quite hide the flicker of something in his eyes. He steps closer again, reclaiming my free hand and lifting it to his lips in a gesture that’s half-courtly, half-mocking.
“Lead with that fire, Veilborn,” he murmurs against my skin, breath warm. “It’s far more attractive than caution.”
He straightens, gaze sliding first to Tamsin, then lingering deliberately on Nolan. His smile turns slow, wicked, the kind that promises trouble.
“I’ll take her,” he says, tone casual but final.
“There’s a servants’ passage behind the old alchemical stores—narrow, mostly forgotten, lightly warded.
I can get us through without ringing every bell in the academy.
” His eyes flick back to Nolan, and his voice drops, teasing, intimate.
“You and Tamsin should stay back. Safety first, darling. Wouldn’t want those pretty scholarly hands getting singed…
or that lovely blush of yours turning permanent when Raiden finally breaks loose and scents her all over you. ”
Nolan’s cheeks flame instantly—bright, unmistakable pink creeping up his neck and across his cheekbones.
He ducks his head, glasses slipping a fraction down his nose, and pushes them back up with a trembling finger.
The bond between us hums with embarrassed warmth, sweet and flustered, and I feel a reluctant smile tug at my mouth despite everything.
Tamsin snorts, crossing her arms. “You’re enjoying this way too much, fae prince.”
“Always,” Dorian replies without missing a beat.
But his gaze softens when it returns to me—only a fraction, but enough that I notice.
“Raiden’s fire is going to be… explosive when he sees you.
Literally. If you go in alone with me, I can shield the worst of it long enough for you to reach him.
The rest of you trailing behind would only give his beast more targets to snarl at. ”
Nolan swallows, the flush still high on his face, but his voice is steady when he speaks. “I hate this. I hate not being there.”
“I know,” I say quietly. I squeeze his hand once before letting go. “But if he’s as far gone as you say… I need to be the first thing he sees. The first thing he feels. The bond will help calm him faster than anything else.”
Tamsin’s jaw tightens, but she nods. “Fine. But if I hear even one scream that isn’t his, I’m coming in claws-out. Ward or no ward.”
Dorian’s grin flashes—sharp and delighted. “That’s the spirit. Stay close to the main hall. If the council starts sniffing around, distract them. You’re both excellent at looking innocent.”
Nolan mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “I am innocent,” which only makes Dorian’s smile widen.
I turn back to Dorian. “Show me the way.”