Chapter 15 Lindsay #2
She doesn’t answer immediately, and that alone tells me everything. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer. “I think you were the second you tapped into the Veil. Maybe even before.”
I close my eyes for a second, letting that sink in. “So what do I do?”
“You survive. You keep your head on straight. And you don’t let pretty boys with pale eyes and deep secrets whisper their way into your confidence.”
I snort. “So specific.”
She smirks. “I’ve got a type. And apparently so do you.”
I toss a crumpled napkin at her. “Not helpful.”
“Actually,” she says, catching it midair, “I’m incredibly helpful. Because now you know what game he’s playing—and who’s sitting on your side of the board.” Tamsin leans back in her chair, clearly proud of herself. “See? Incredibly helpful.”
I roll my eyes, still smiling faintly, when the door to the dining hall swings open. I don’t need to look to know who just entered. I feel him.
It’s not magic exactly—not in the traditional sense—but it’s the bond.
The tether humming under my skin, low and persistent, like a tuning fork struck in the back of my ribs.
The Veil letting me know that Raiden Tsukino just walked into the room.
It’s always there, but when he’s in the same room, it’s stronger.
I glance up, more reflex than decision.
And there he is.
He walks in like the air bends to him, shoulders square, expression unreadable, but there’s tension in the line of his jaw. Like he’s already bracing for something.
He doesn’t look at me right away. But I can feel the flicker of awareness as his eyes sweep the space and hesitate before reaching me. He knows I’m here. Of course he does.
But he doesn’t come over. Instead, he walks in with someone else.
She’s tall, older—maybe a fourth year—with silver-blonde hair and an easy kind of elegance.
Her Bloodborn status is obvious in the way she carries herself, all casual superiority and perfect posture.
She’s dressed in combat blacks, the same style Raiden wears as a second skin.
The kind of match that feels intentional.
She laughs at something he says.
And when her hand brushes his arm, light and familiar, the bond in my chest stings. Just for a moment. Like it’s echoing the ache behind my ribs.
Tamsin clocks the change in my expression instantly. “Uh-oh. Who’s Frostbite Barbie?”
I swallow hard. “No idea.”
“She looks like she eats lesser mortals for breakfast.”
I don’t answer. My fingers tighten around my fork. I’m not even hungry anymore. And there is a sort of violence building inside of me. I want to stab out his eyes as he looks at her again.
“Do you think she’s from his house?” Tamsin asks, glancing between me and the pair across the hall. “She’s older, right? A fang? No, fae…definitely fae.”
“I said I don’t know.”
Tamsin leans back, holding up her hands. “Okay, okay. Just making conversation.”
I glance up again. And this time, he’s looking at me.
His eyes lock with mine—deep reddish-brown, molten and unreadable—and for a second, the rest of the hall fades away. I feel a flicker through the bond: tension, awareness…and something else. Guilt? Conflict?
Then it’s gone. Shut down. His expression smooths out, gaze blank.
He looks away. As though nothing ever happened, and he wasn’t the one who held me upright when my magic shattered through me. Like I didn’t nearly collapse into him.
The pain is brief, sharp, and humiliating.
Tamsin sighs beside me. “Linds…”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Because what else am I supposed to say?
The Veilbond between us feels like something more. To me. Almost like a soul connection if that’s a thing, and if magic is a thing, then it’s not too far outside the realm of possibilities. But apparently, to him? It’s just another thing he’s learned how to control.
I clear my throat and push my plate away. “I need some air before bed.”
Tamsin turns toward me, concern already in her eyes, but I don’t give her a chance to speak. I’m up and moving before I can talk myself out of it, weaving through the tables and past the still-buzzing energy of the dining hall.
The doors groan open, and the cool night air hits me like a slap to my face—bracing and chilly. I welcome it.
Outside, the academy grounds are quiet, most students already filtering back toward the dorms. The last slant of twilight lingers over the trees, painting everything in soft purples and deepening blues. It should be peaceful.
But it isn’t.
The tether thrums faintly in my chest, a ghost of what it felt like earlier; stronger when Raiden was closer, chaotic when I couldn’t hold the magic in. Now it just feels…hollow. Like a conversation cut short.
I don’t know what I was expecting from him. A look? A nod? A word? For him to see if I'm okay. Something.
I rub at my arms, more out of habit than cold. The path ahead winds down toward the edge of the practice fields, and beyond that, the darker stretch of trees where students aren’t supposed to go after dark.
I don’t turn back.
The ache behind my ribs simmers down into something quieter. I just keep walking. The distance feels good.
One foot in front of the other, like the ground might eventually tell me where I’m supposed to be.