Chapter 9 Lindsay
NINE
LINDSAY
The corridors feel too bright when I step out of the ritual wing. I’m barely two halls away when I hear footsteps.
“Lindsay!”
I turn, pulse still too fast. Nolan jogs up, dark eyes wide behind his glasses. He takes one look at me—at my face, the way I’m probably pale as hell and stiff as a board—and his expression softens.
“You okay?”
I shake my head once, the movement small. “I don’t know.”
Nolan hesitates, then reaches out, hand brushing my fingers just below the mark. Warm, steady contact.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he says quietly. “But...if you want...I meant it. I can help. I’ve already started looking.”
I blink at him. “You have?”
His mouth quirks, sheepish. “I...might have recognized part of it. The mark. It’s old. Rare. I don’t know everything. Yet. But the library—”
“The library,” I echo, like the word just caught me. I grab onto it. “Yes. Please.”
Nolan’s grin flashes quick. “Come on.”
The library sits in the east wing, two floors below the main halls. It isn’t like any library I’ve seen before. The arched doorway alone pulses with wards—etched silver runes coiling through the dark wood. The air shifts the second we step inside.
Cooler. Heavier. Every breath tastes faintly of old parchment, worn leather, and magic.
The ceiling vaults high above rows of stacked shelves, spiraling metal walkways curl up through three levels, books packed into every crammed corner. Floating globes of rune-lit light drift overhead, casting long shadows across the carved stone floor.
Nolan leads me toward a quieter section near the back.
A few students sit at scattered tables, noses buried in ancient tomes.
The entire place feels like it’s holding its breath.
Near one corner, a slender figure stacks books almost as tall as she is, a dark braid trailing down her back and glasses slipping down her nose.
Nolan brightens. “Mira.”
The girl turns, blinking owlishly up at us. Big brown eyes. Heart-shaped face. Maybe a year younger than me, if that.
“Mira Cade,” Nolan says quickly in introduction, glancing at me. “Brilliant. Sweet. Possibly knows every book in here.”
Mira flushes pink. “I—I don’t. But...hi.” She gives me a shy little wave. “You’re...new.”
I manage a faint smile. “Lindsay.”
Nolan lowers his voice. “We’re looking for anything on Veil-touched marks.”
Mira’s eyes go wide behind her glasses. “Oh.” Her gaze flicks to my exposed fingers, then back to my face, nervous but kind.
“That’s...um...really deep in the archives.” She bites her lip. “Most students don’t go there. But...I can show you.”
A knot loosens in my chest. “That would be great.”
She ducks her head, grabbing a small rune-lit lantern from the shelf. “Follow me.”
Nolan winks at me. “Told you she’s brilliant.”
I shake my head, but a smile tugs at my mouth anyway. Mira moves ahead of us, hugging the little lantern to her chest.
We follow her through the main stacks—past thick old tomes bound in cracked leather, scrolls sealed with wax, glass cases holding things that definitely don’t belong in a normal library.
The farther we go, the thinner the air feels.
Not in a physical way, just...weightier.
The kind of magic that sinks into your skin.
Nolan stays close, fingers brushing the edge of my cloak once when the path narrows. A quiet reminder that I’m not alone. Mira stops in front of an arched alcove near the back wall that’s nearly hidden behind a shelf packed with grimoires.
A small plaque above the entrance reads: Restricted Reference: Veil Studies & Ancient Phenomena.
The iron gate is covered in faintly glowing wards. Mira reaches up and taps a series of sigils on the side panel with practiced ease. The gate shudders, then creaks open an inch.
“Um...technically this is upper-level access.” Mira glances back at us, cheeks pink. “But, well...I’m allowed. And you’re with me.”
Nolan grins. “Mira’s top of her year in Arcane Theory. She’s got more clearance than half the staff.”
Mira blushes deeper but ducks through the narrow gap, motioning us in.
The air inside is colder and dry, scented faintly of dust, iron, and something older.
Here, the shelves stretch taller, darker, and they are packed with brittle scrolls, rune-etched ledgers, hand-bound codex.
No easy catalog. No floating lights. Just long channels of shadow broken by the small circle of Mira’s lantern.
“This section covers things related to the Veil itself,” she whispers, voice barely more than breath. “And...marks tied to it. But some of it’s fragmented. A lot of older records were...lost.”
She leads us down three rows, stopping before a shelf crammed with thick, mismatched volumes.
“This is where I’d start.”
I glance at the spines, and most of them are unlabelled or marked in languages I can’t read.
Nolan already has his notebook out, flipping it open. “We’ve got this.” He flashes me a small smile. “Team research.”
Despite the tension still coiling low in my stomach, I manage a faint laugh. “Team research.”
Mira beams, ducking her head again, already pulling a heavy book down and laying it open across the table. The pages are dense with faded script, unfamiliar diagrams and etched symbols.
As we settle in to start, a faint thrum tugs low in my chest. The bond. It hums steady—quiet but constant—reminding me with every breath that somewhere on this campus, Raiden Tsukino is feeling it too. Even if he’s somehow blocked his thoughts from slipping through.
The first few pages are dense, layers of script too faded to fully read, diagrams that make my eyes ache.
Mira scans with practiced ease, fingers tracing the margins. “A lot of this is pre-Veil codices,” she murmurs. “Before the first wards stabilized the perimeter.”
I nod, though most of that means little to me. I’m still trying to stop thinking about the way my skin had burned under Raiden’s touch. I’m still distracted by the bond, it beats like a second heartbeat beneath my own. I shift in my seat, trying to ignore it.
Nolan’s bent low over another text, brows furrowed. “This one references...manifestations of latent marks. Veil-touched phenomena.” He glances up. “I think your mark falls under that.”
“Veil-touched,” I echo. The words land heavy.
“It’s rare.” Mira pushes her glasses up, eyes wide and earnest. “And not always safe.”
My pulse skips. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Nolan says carefully, “Veil-touched marks anchor magic. Old magic. Magic that reacts to stress, to threat. Sometimes to...instinct.”
Instinct. The word hits too close to the heat still winding low through me.
I shift again, mouth dry. “And the tether that reached for Raiden?”
“That’s the thing,” Nolan says. “Most records suggest a tether forms when the mark flares uncontrolled. It...reaches for balance, for someone that can stabilize it.” He hesitates. “That’s why it pulled to Raiden. His magic can stabilize it.”
Mira adds softly, “But until it’s fully trained...you’ll feel it. Strongly.”
I don’t need her to explain what she means.
I can feel it now, warmth curling tighter under my skin, sharpest when I think of him.
As if on cue, the bond flares—bright, hot—twisting low through my stomach.
I suck in a breath, hands clenching against the edge of the table.
The heat coils tighter, sharp and alive, and I grit my teeth against the way it spikes when I so much as think of Raiden.
It’s too much. Too fast. And one thing doesn’t add up.
“Then why didn’t it happen during training?” I ask, voice low. “When we were sparring—if Raiden’s magic balances it, why didn’t the tether flare then?”
Mira and Nolan exchange a look.
“It was controlled,” Nolan says finally. “Structured setting. Suppressed emotions. There wasn’t enough volatility to trigger it.”
Mira nods, her voice gentle. “The bond reacts to extremes. Fear. Threat. Pain. It doesn't just form because someone’s nearby—it forms when your magic thinks you're in danger.”
“And the Undercourt was dangerous,” Nolan adds. “You weren’t just sparring. You were being hunted.”
I swallow hard. My skin is burning. Not with fear—but something else. Something sharp and low and electric.
I shift in my seat, desperate to will it away, but it doesn’t stop. It builds. Heat licking up my spine. Twisting low through my stomach. Coiling between my legs now, uninvited and impossible to ignore.
Oh God. What is happening to me?
Nolan's gaze snaps up, eyes narrowing. “Lindsay?”
I shake my head, breathless. “It’s nothing. Just—” The bond pulses again, harder this time. A flush rises up my neck. “Are Veilbinds sexual?” I blurt.
“I—” Mira’s eyes go huge, cheeks flushing scarlet. “Um...sometimes? In early stages. If the bond formed during...heightened instinct on the anchor’s part.”
Nolan's brows knit, mouth parting like he wants to say more—
And then the bond surges again, burning through me like a live wire. I gasp, body tensing, grip locking tighter on the table. My vision swims.
“Lindsay.” Nolan’s chair scrapes back. He’s moving before I can process it. His hand closes over mine, warm, steady. The pulse of the bond jolts, then stutters. The heat flares for one beat, then ebbs a fraction, enough to breathe. My shoulders sag forward, breath shaking out.
Nolan's grip stays firm. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I can still feel Raiden, somewhere distant, taut and on fire through the tether, but Nolan’s touch mutes the worst of it. Grounds me.
Mira leans in, voice small. “Sometimes contact...helps regulate. With anyone. At least...until the bond settles.”
I drag in another breath, trying to focus on anything but the lingering heat under my skin.
“Guess I’m learning fast,” I manage.
Nolan gives a crooked smile, though his eyes are worried. “You’re not doing this alone. We’ll figure it out.”
Nolan settles into the seat next to me without a word, pulling one of the thicker volumes closer. His hand shifts, warm fingers sliding along my forearm, rubbing slow circles into my skin, his touch light, constant.
The bond’s heat dulls under the contact. It’s still there, but muted, less clawing.
I let out a shaky breath. “That...helps.”
He glances at me, offering a small, crooked smile. “Figured. It’s...like grounding a circuit.”
Mira’s head bobs. “I think I know a text that explains more.” She grabs a smaller lantern, which flares softly, and hugs it to her chest. “I’ll be right back!”
Then she’s off, disappearing between the rows with a flurry of dark braid and glowing light.
The space around us feels quieter without her, dim and close beneath the old shelves, intimate even.
Nolan keeps reading, eyes scanning slowly across the dense page.
But his touch doesn’t stop—fingers rubbing small patterns along my wrist and palm, thumb trailing over mine.
Every brush sends a little wave of calm through me.
I study him in the low light. The way his brows knit in concentration.
The way his lips press together when he finds a line that puzzles him.
The faint blush still on his cheekbones, like he’s not entirely comfortable with the closeness, but he won’t pull away.
And the longer I watch him, the harder it is to ignore the warmth building inside my chest again, not from the bond this time, but from somewhere deeper. Before I can second-guess it, I shift. My free hand lifts, my fingers brushing along his jaw, tilting his face toward mine.
His eyes widening, mouth parting to say something—and I kiss him.
Soft. Quick. Breathless.
For a second, he’s frozen, going completely still beneath my lips. Realization crashes over me. I pull back fast, heat racing up my neck.
“God—Nolan, I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
But he shakes his head before I can finish, mutely, a quick breath leaving him, and then he’s the one leaning in, catching my apology right off my lips with his own.
This time, there’s no hesitation. His mouth is warm, soft, pressing fuller against mine. A surprised sound catches in my throat, and then my stomach flips, butterflies kicking wild and dizzy beneath my ribs. I lean in without thinking, fingers curling in his shirt, tugging him closer.
Nolan's other hand lifts, sliding up to cup my cheek, thumb stroking lightly as he tilts his head, deeper now, surer. The bond hums low and steady beneath it all, soothed but still alive—but none of that matters in this moment. Because this man, right here, wants me in the same way I want him. Right now, it’s just him.
Just the steady press of his mouth, the way his touch grounds me when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control.
When we finally break for air, my pulse is racing for an entirely different reason. Nolan’s eyes are wide, a little dazed behind his glasses. His cheeks flushed high. I’m breathless. Shaken.
And I’m not sure if it’s from the bond or from him.
Footsteps echo lightly between the shelves. A soft, familiar voice floats back before I can even move.
“Found it!” Mira’s lantern bobs into view around the corner.
Nolan pulls back first, fast but not jerky. Controlled. His hand lingers on my face a second longer than it should. A faint, breathless brush of his thumb across my cheek, then he eases away, neck flushed, gaze dropping to the book between us.
I scrub a hand through my hair, pulse still thudding hard. My mouth is dry, my skin too warm. But when Mira rounds the corner, beaming with a thick, rune-bound tome hugged to her chest, Nolan is already leaning over his notebook like nothing happened.
Almost.
Because when I glance sideways, his fingers twitch faintly toward mine on the table. And when I brush them back, light, testing, he doesn’t pull away. The smallest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. My stomach flips all over again.
Mira sets the book down between us with a soft thump. “This one has a whole section on binding outcomes.”
She flips carefully through the worn pages, landing on a section marked with faded tabs.
“Here.” Her finger traces the header. “Tether Evolution & Permanency.”
My breath catches. “Permanency?”
Mira reads aloud softly, “In rare cases, bonds formed under Veil-distress may exceed temporary alignment. If emotional or instinctual convergence persists...tether may solidify beyond training scope.”
Nolan's brow knits. “Meaning...”
Mira glances between us, eyes wide. “Meaning some Veilbinds don’t dissolve.”
A chill races through me. Nolan threads his fingers lightly through mine—steady, grounding. But all I can think of is the bond whispering inside my chest.
And the fact that Raiden can feel it, too.