Chapter 5
FIVE
DORIAN
The door clicks shut behind me with the soft finality of someone who knows better than to slam it. All that would do is piss the shifter off.
I lean my back against the cool stone of the corridor wall, arms crossed, one boot propped casually next to my other knee looking for all the world as if I’m waiting for a particularly dull lecture to end. In reality, every nerve is humming.
Inside that ruined room, Raiden is finally claiming what he’s been starving for since the day Lindsay vanished. Probably even before then. The air still carries the faint echo of his roar—low, broken, triumphant—and beneath it, her voice. Breathless and full of desire. Raiden… more.
I close my eyes for half a heartbeat and let the sound settle somewhere deep in my chest.
Not jealousy. Not quite.
Fae don’t do jealousy the way humans or even demons do.
We feel possession, yes. Hunger, certainly.
But the sharp, possessive burn I feel right now is something older, something that tastes like starlight and iron and the faint, metallic promise of something more—even if I haven’t yet sunk my teeth into it.
I exhale slowly through my nose.
The bond between Lindsay and Raiden just snapped into clearer focus; I felt it ripple outward like a stone dropped in black water.
The green thread that ties her to me—thinner, newer, still shimmering with possibility—tugged in response.
Not pain. Recognition. A quiet, greedy little pulse that says soon.
Soon.
But that’s putting the cart before the horse, so I push off the wall and start walking.
She’ll have to acknowledge that thread before anything can happen between us.
I know she feels it. That faint little glow of magic, so much smaller than the others.
I’m not even sure when it was forged, although I suspected it would happen after seeing the other three.
Maybe it was the first time I saw her and pretended I wasn’t interested…
maybe it was after that, when we closed the Veil together. None of that matters now.
The servants’ passage is narrow and dim, but I know every turn, every loose flagstone, every ward that’s more suggestion than iron to keep me out.
I’ve spent years mapping the academy’s forgotten arteries the way a thief maps a vault.
Knowledge is leverage. Leverage is survival.
And right now, survival means making sure no one interrupts what’s happening in that room.
Because if the Council catches wind that Lindsay has not only returned but immediately gone to ground with a feral kitsune in full mating heat, they’ll send enforcers.
Or worse—they’ll send Auron. I know they are aware of her return, it would be hard to miss the scene that she caused stepping out of that portal.
But stopping the bond would be bad for the prophecy.
And Auron…Auron is a complication I’m not ready to deal with yet.
I slip out of the passage behind the old alchemical stores and into the main corridor just as two third-year fae round the corner locked in each other's arms, stumbling and kissing as though they can’t undress each other fast enough.
They freeze when they see me, halfway to kneeling before I release that stupid spell.
“Prince Dorian,” one stammers, bowing so low his nose nearly brushes his knees. “We—we were just—”
“Patrolling,” I finish for him, voice velvet and bored. “How diligent. Tell me, have you checked the east wing lately? I heard there was…an incident.”
They exchange panicked glances.
“We were heading there now, sir.”
“Excellent.” I smile—slow, sharp, the one that shows just enough fang to remind them I’m not entirely playing. “Do be thorough. And if you hear anything…unusual? Perhaps a great deal of growling? Do not investigate. Report directly to me. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
They practically sprint away.
I watch them go, then turn in the opposite direction.
Nolan and Tamsin are waiting in the alcove near the grand staircase, exactly where I left them.
Nolan is pacing—small, tight circles, glasses slipping down his nose every few steps.
Tamsin is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the marble.
They both snap to attention the second they see me.
“Well?” Tamsin demands before I’ve even reached them.
I spread my hands in a lazy shrug. “They’re… occupied.”
Nolan’s ears go pink. “Is she—did he—”
“Safe,” I say simply. “More than safe. The bond is completed. Properly this time.” I let my gaze linger on Nolan just long enough to watch the flush climb higher. “No screaming that wasn’t the good kind.”
Tamsin snorts. “You’re disgusting.”
“And yet you keep me around.” I step closer, voice dropping. “The council will know she’s back soon. They always do. When the wards register two bonded signatures instead of one in that room, questions will be asked. We need to be ready.”
Nolan pushes his glasses up with a trembling finger. “I’ve been pulling every text I can on Veil-echoes and shadow attachment. If that darkness she brought back is feeding on her power—”
“It is,” I cut in quietly. “But it’s not parasitic. Not yet. The Veil didn’t just mark her. It chose her. And now it’s watching. Waiting. Learning.”
Tamsin’s eyes narrow. “Learning what?”
“How to keep her.” I meet her gaze. “How to keep all of us.”
Silence stretches for a beat.
Nolan swallows. “We need to tell Kael.”
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend, but I soften it with a sigh. “Not yet. He’s still drowning in guilt. If he feels the new strength of her bond with Raiden before he’s had a chance to speak to her… it will gut him.”
Tamsin’s jaw tightens. “He deserves to be gutted a little.”
“Maybe.” I shrug one shoulder. “But we need him whole. The five of us—her center, his shadows, Raiden’s fire, Nolan’s mind, my…
whatever it is I bring—are the only things strong enough to stand against whatever the Council has planned next.
And whatever is waiting on the other side of those thinning fractures. ”
Nolan exhales, shoulders dropping a fraction. “We should get back to the dorms. Clean up. Look… normal. When she and Raiden emerge, we need to be ready to shield her from the worst of the questions.”
Tamsin nods. “And if anyone asks where she is?”
“Tell them she’s resting.” I tilt my head. “After all, returning from the dead is exhausting.”
We start walking—three shadows moving in quiet sync toward the west wing.
Behind us, faint through stone and distance, I feel another pulse from the bond Lindsay shares with Raiden. Softer now. Sated. Reverent.
And threaded through it, so faint I almost miss it, the answering tug from the thin green cord that connects her to me.
Soon, I think, letting the word drift down that fragile line like a promise.
Soon, Veilborn.
Soon.
Tamsin breaks the silence first, her voice cutting through the hush of the corridor. “You know what? I’m starving. All this drama has me craving something greasy and terrible for me. I’m hitting the kitchens. You two nerds can handle the ‘look normal’ part without me.”
She doesn’t wait for a response—just veers off down a side hall with a wave over her shoulder, her half-blood energy trailing behind her like a sparkler in the dim light. Practical as always. Or maybe she senses the air thickening between Nolan and me, the unspoken threads pulling taut.
Either way, she’s gone, leaving Nolan and me alone in the echoing stretch of stone.
Nolan glances at me sideways, adjusting his glasses for what must be the tenth time since I returned. His cheeks are still faintly pink from my earlier teasing, and the way he fidgets—hands twisting at his sides—tells me he’s hyper-aware of the sudden solitude.
Perfect.
We walk a few more steps in silence before I slow my pace, forcing him to match it. The corridor narrows here, forcing us closer—shoulder to shoulder, the faint warmth of his body brushing mine.
“You know,” I say casually, as if the thought just occurred to me, “our threads are already tangled with hers. Kael’s steady light weaving through the shadows, my starlight green adding a bit of sparkle, Raiden’s golden light, and your silver thread that pulses with innocence.
It’s all rather poetic, don’t you think? ”
He blinks, those boy-next-door eyes widening behind his lenses. “Threads? You mean the bonds? You are connected to her?” He stops walking abruptly, turning to face me fully. “Wait—you’re connected to her? Like… bonded?”
I stop, too, turning slowly, letting him see the amusement curling at the corners of my mouth.
“See how smart you are?” I murmur, delighting in the way his brain is already racing to catalog this new variable.
“Yes, Nolan. I’m connected to her. A thin light green cord—nothing as fierce as Raiden’s fire or as deep as Kael’s shadows yet—but it’s there.
It’s been there since before she even knew what the Veil was doing to her. ”
His mouth opens, closes, opens again. “But… how? When? You never said—”
“I don’t announce every secret I carry, darling.” I step closer, closing the last small distance between us. “Some things are better felt than explained.”
He swallows hard, eyes flicking over my face like he’s searching for the lie and finding none. The flush that had begun to fade reignites, creeping up his neck in that helplessly endearing way of his.
I reach out and tilt his chin up with two fingers, forcing his gaze to meet mine. His skin is warm, softer than I expected, and the way his breath hitches? Oh, it sends a thrill straight through me. His pupils dilate just a fraction, the flush blooming across his cheeks like dawn on pale marble.
I read every flicker on his face—the surprise, the rapid mental recalibration, the spark of heat he tries so hard to hide behind that scholarly composure.
It’s intoxicating. The fae in me hungers for it, for him—just as it hungers for Lindsay’s fierce power, for Kael’s dark intensity, for Raiden’s burning loyalty.
We’re all linked through her, but why stop there?
Why not weave the threads tighter, bind us all into something unbreakable?
“To help her,” I murmur, voice low and intimate, thumb brushing once along his jawline just to feel him shiver again.
“To strengthen the web around her… we could make more threads. Bind ourselves together with something a little more… intimate. Skin to skin. Breath to breath. Imagine how much stronger we’d be for her if we let those tangles deepen. ”
His lips part—on a gasp, a protest, a plea?—and I watch the words catch in his throat. His eyes dart to my mouth, then back up, wide and dazed. The bond hums faintly between us—through her, yes, but echoing with new potential.
“For Lindsay,” he echoes faintly, voice barely above a whisper. His hands flex at his sides as though he doesn’t know what to do with them. “You’re saying…you and I…?”
I lean in just a fraction closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, close enough to catch the faint scent of old books and clean soap that clings to his skin.
“For Lindsay,” I agree softly. “And maybe…for us. The fae in me doesn’t like loose ends.
I want every thread pulled tight. I want to feel you the way I feel her. The way I feel the others through her.”
His breath shudders out. “I—I don’t know if—”
“You don’t have to decide right now.” My thumb strokes once more along the line of his jaw, savoring the way his lashes flutter.
“But think about it, darling. Think about how safe she’d be if every single one of us was bound so deeply that nothing—not the Council, not the Veil, not whatever darkness followed her home—could tear us apart. ”
I drop my hand, stepping back with a lazy, wicked smile that promises trouble. “No pressure.”
Nolan stands there, frozen for a long heartbeat, cheeks aflame, eyes glassy behind his glasses. Then he nods—jerky, uncertain—and we resume walking.
But the silence now is charged, alive with what-ifs.
And in my chest, that green cord to Lindsay tugs again, as if approving.