Chapter 15 Lindsay
FIFTEEN
LINDSAY
I keep the smile locked on my face while Tamsin launches into a gleeful rant about how she’s going to start a betting pool on when Kael will finally break and start following me around like a lost puppy.
Raiden’s thumb traces slow, steady circles on my knee under the table—grounding, possessive, a quiet reminder that he’s here.
Nolan’s fingers lace with mine across the table again, warm and slightly trembling, as if he’s afraid if he lets go I’ll vanish again.
I squeeze Nolan’s hand once more. He squeezes back. I laugh when Tamsin says something ridiculous about glitter bombs and escape plans. I nod when Raiden murmurs something low and teasing in my ear.
I do all the right things.
I play my part.
I act normal.
Because if I allow myself to feel what actually happened the second Auron stepped up next to our table, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep sitting here pretending everything is fine.
The darkness of the Veil shifts inside me, restless, excited, whispering secrets I don’t want to hear.
But this one it won’t let me ignore. It coils around my ribs like smoke, presses against the back of my throat, and purrs the truth I’ve been trying to shove down since the moment his cold diamond eyes met mine.
Bonded.
The word lands like ice water in my veins.
No.
No. No. No.
I keep the smile nailed in place while Tamsin waves her fork for emphasis, and Raiden’s thumb keeps its slow rhythm on my knee. Inside, the darkness laughs—soft, delighted, cruel in its certainty.
The full prophecy I learned in the Veil rolls through my memory like black water over stone.
Five threads to one heart.
One to burn.
One to shadow.
One to light.
One to trick.
One to hate.
I already have Raiden’s fire, Kael’s shadow, Nolan’s light, Dorian’s trickery.
And the last one—the one the prophecy calls “the one to hate”—is always described in terms of ice and platinum and betrayal.
Auron.
The darkness inside me practically vibrates with glee. Bonded. Tethered. Mine. Ours.
I want to vomit.
I want to scream.
I want to tear the table in half and storm across the hall to where he’s sitting with his perfect posture and his perfect mask and rip that cursed, arrogant smirk off his face with my bare hands.
This is a trick.
It has to be.
He pushed me into the Veil. He listened when his father commanded it. He stood there while I fell and didn’t lift a finger to stop it. He has shown zero regret since I’ve returned.
He can’t be one of them.
He won’t be one of them.
I shove the darkness back down—hard. It resists, coiling tighter, the threads sparking angrily behind my eyes. The shadows at my feet ripple, dark enough that the candle flames on the table flicker for a second.
Raiden’s thumb stills on my knee.
“Lindsay?” His voice is low, concerned.
I force another smile—brighter this time, brittle. “I’m fine. Just…thinking.”
Tamsin squints at me. “You look like you want to murder someone. Is it Kael again? Because I can help hide the body. I know where to find the concealment spells.”
I shake my head. “Not Kael.”
But my gaze flicks—unwillingly—across the hall.
Auron is still there.
Sitting alone at the far end of the high table, back straight, platinum hair catching the fairy light. He’s not looking at me. Not directly. But I feel it anyway—the weight of his attention, cold and precise, like a scalpel resting against my throat.
The darkness surges again. Go to him. Claim him. Break him. Bind him. He’s ready.
My fingers curl into fists under the table.
I stand abruptly.
Raiden’s hand tightens on my knee. “Where are you going?”
“I need air,” I say. The lie tastes like ash. “I’ll be right back.”
Before anyone can argue, I slip out of the bench and weave through the tables. My shadows trail me—thicker now, angrier. Students move out of my way without knowing why. The air around me cools. Candles gutter as I pass.
I’m heading for the side door that leads to the cloister garden. But my feet don’t take me there. They take me toward him.
Toward Auron.
The darkness is driving now—eager, insistent, whispering mine mine mine in a voice that sounds too much like my own.
I’m almost to the high table when shadow coalesces in front of me—sudden, solid, blocking my path.
Kael.
He steps out of the gloom as though he was born from it, coat swirling, eyes burning. His shadows flare wide—protective, warning—pushing mine back just enough to give me room to breathe.
“Lindsay,” he says. Low. Urgent. “Don’t.”
I stop. Chest heaving. Shadows snapping around me like whips.
“He’s one of them,” I hiss. The words taste like poison. “The prophecy. Five threads. He’s the last one.”
Kael’s jaw tightens. “I know.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.” His voice is rough. “The way he looks at you. The way the thread pulls when he’s near. I felt it the second he stepped up to the table. But you’re not thinking straight right now. The darkness is pushing you. It wants you to claim him. To bind him. To own him.”
I laugh—short, bitter. “And why shouldn’t I? He betrayed me. He pushed me into the dark. Let his father command it. Watched me fall. If the prophecy says he’s mine, then maybe it’s time he learned what that really means.”
Kael goes rigid.
The shadows around him snap taut—frozen mid-motion, as though someone just yanked every thread of darkness in the room to a standstill.
His eyes—always so controlled, so carefully guarded—flare wide in raw, unguarded shock.
The shadow thread between us jerks violently, a live wire snapping against bone.
He doesn’t breathe for several heartbeats.
When the air finally leaves him, it’s a ragged, broken sound—half disbelief, half physical pain.
“Auron?” The name comes out cracked, barely audible, like saying it aloud might make it real. “Auron…pushed you?”
His gaze snaps to mine—searching, frantic, pleading for any sign that I’m mistaken, that the darkness is lying, that this is another trick. I don’t give him the comfort of doubt.
“He did,” I say flatly. “His father ordered it. He obeyed. Stood there and watched the portal swallow me. He just…watched. His face is the last thing I saw before the Veil closed.”
Kael’s hands clench at his sides—claws extending involuntarily before he forces them back. His shadows lash once—sharp, violent—before recoiling under iron control.
“He—” His voice breaks off, and I can see the anger swirling in the depths of his eyes, dark and molten. “And you didn’t tell the Council?”
I bark out a brittle laugh. “The Council probably has a part in all of this. His dad is on the Council.”
“Headmaster Veyne would do something about it. He’s fair.”
I scoff. “Is he?”
“Yes,” he says. He glances away and then pulls his gaze back to me.
“While you were gone, I tested every fracture, trying to slip through to go to you. I never thought that someone intentionally pushed you into the Veil. All this time, I’ve been tearing myself apart trying to find a way to you, and he had a way to you this entire time. ”
I nod once. Kael’s gaze darts across the hall to Auron—only for a heartbeat—then back to me. His jaw is so tight I can see the muscle jump. The darkness inside me purrs—pleased with his rage, delighted by the fracture in his composure.
“If you go to him now,” Kael says, voice low and urgent, “with the darkness this loud…Lindsay, it won’t be bonding.
It’ll be vengeance. You’ll tear him open.
You’ll make him bleed with every betrayal he’s ever given you.
And you’ll do it with a smile. Then you’ll wake up tomorrow and realize you let the Veil use you to punish him—and you’ll hate yourself for it. ”
“Maybe I want to punish him,” I whisper.
Kael steps closer—close enough that his shadows wrap around us both, a cool, steady barrier against the storm raging inside of me.
“Then wait,” he says. “Just until you can breathe without tasting his blood in your mouth. Until you can look at him and know it’s you making the choice—not the thing that made you.”
I stare at him. “You’re asking me to walk away.”
“I’m asking you to wait.” His hand lifts and cups my cheek. My heart thuds painfully inside my chest at the contact. “For yourself. Not for him. For the part of you that isn’t drowning in shadows and lightning right now. For the Lindsay I know you are underneath all of your changes.”
The darkness hisses—disappointed—but Kael’s shadows are there too: cool, steady, and familiar.
They don’t push against me. And maybe that’s why I relent.
He’s not trying to control me, not really.
Yeah, he’s stopping me from committing murder in front of the entire student body, but that’s more about protection.
I’m sure if I start killing students, the council will find a way to contain me.
I close my eyes. The storm inside of me crackles once more before slowly quieting. I step into him, my forehead coming to rest against his chest for one long second. His arms come around me—tentative at first, then firm and protective.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He presses his lips to the top of my head.
“Always,” he murmurs.