Chapter 17 Lindsay
SEVENTEEN
LINDSAY
The bruise on my ribs aches with every breath as I step into Combat Casting.
I expect more whispers. More sidelong glances. What I don’t expect is Kael—already standing inside the chamber as if he belongs here.
He’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, black sleeves rolled to the elbow like he’s casually lethal and only here because he wants to be.
His horns aren’t visible, but he hasn’t bothered with glamour either.
Just enough shadow to keep everyone cautious.
And his wings folded neatly against his back.
Students edge around him like he might bite—or worse, speak to them.
I spot Raiden immediately, standing near the training rings. His eyes are locked on Kael, unreadable. Tension radiates off him in slow, controlled waves.
They know each other.
And they are not friends or strangers.
Something in between.
Professor River enters a beat later and shuts the door with a flick of his fingers.
“Change of plans,” he says, not even pretending this is a normal lesson. “We’ve had…security concerns. Miss Blake, Mr. Tsukino—you’re assigned to private instruction today.”
There’s a ripple of surprise. A few jealous stares.
“Kael will be assisting.”
More ripples.
Raiden looks like he just swallowed something jagged. “Since when do demons assist with training?”
Kael smiles without humor. “Since your little bond nearly got gutted last night.”
That shuts the room up fast. I freeze. My stomach twists. I didn’t think he’d tell anyone.
Which is ridiculous since he has shown me in the past that he will be loyal to the school.
But Professor River just nods. “Training Room Seven. Wards are already active. I suggest you don’t waste time.”
Training Room Seven is colder than the others. Not just in temperature, but in vibe. The stone walls hum with layered enchantments, the floor etched in sigils that glow faintly as we step inside.
Raiden brushes past me first, jaw clenched.
Kael strolls in last, calm as you please. No rush. No nerves. Just the quiet confidence of someone who knows every shadow in the room would listen if he told them to kneel.
The door seals behind us with a low thrum of magic.
“Remove your shoes,” Kael says, already shrugging off his jacket, and peeling off his gloves. “You’ll want bare feet for grounding.”
“I can handle her training,” Raiden cuts in.
Kael doesn’t even glance his way. “Clearly not. If the rumor mill from yesterday is anything to go by, you shouldn’t even be veilbound to her. You’re not strong enough.”
Raiden bristles. “You think because you showed up once, you suddenly know what she needs?”
“I think because someone tried to slit her throat and she didn’t defend herself, it’s time someone trained her like it mattered.”
My breath catches.
They’re both ignoring me now, posturing around me like I’m a chess piece instead of a person.
“I didn’t know how,” I snap. “I tried.”
That pulls both of their gazes.
Kael’s expression softens—just barely. “Which is why you’re here.”
Raiden looks at me, and something flickers behind his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Frustration.
Kael steps into the center of the room. “We’re going to start simple. Pressure responses. Defensive flow. Then we’ll move to reactive strikes.”
He turns to me. “You’ve felt the bond flare, yeah?”
I nod slowly.
“Then we’ll teach it not to flare—but to shield.”
Raiden’s arms cross again. “And if she burns out like last time?”
Kael smiles, all teeth, reminding me of a predator. “Then you catch her before you fall.”
There’s a silence. Thick and tense.
Then Kael extends a hand toward me, palm up, mirroring the dream far too closely.
“This time,” he says, “don’t hesitate.”
I place my hand in his.
Kael’s hand is cool against mine—bare skin on bare skin—and I feel it this time.
Not like the dream. Not like a fantasy. Like reality cracking wide open.
My breath hitches as magic rushes forward, mine, his, the veilbind’s echo pulsing faintly in the background. It’s not as strong as with Raiden, but it recognizes him. Like the Veil sees him as a possible tether.
“Good,” Kael murmurs. “Now close your eyes.”
I hesitate.
Raiden shifts, arms still crossed, but his scent sharpens. Protective. On edge.
“Why?” I ask, heart thudding.
“Because I need you to feel.” Kael steps behind me, his arm circling my stomach, his breath brushing my ear. “Not think. Not react. Just feel.”
My lashes flutter shut as his hands fall away.
He doesn’t touch me again. Just speaks. “Where is your center?”
I reach for it. That spark I felt before everything went sideways. “Lower belly. Between the ribs.”
“Good. Now breathe into it.”
I do what I think would equate to breathing into it.
The magic stirs.
Then flares—hard—when a hand brushes over my wrist. Not Kael.
Raiden.
He steps into my space, close enough that I feel the heat of him, the press of the tether sparking between us.
“She’s overwhelmed,” Raiden grits. “Back off.”
“She’s fine,” Kael replies smoothly. “She’s just not used to being seen.”
My eyes snap open.
Raiden and Kael are both in front of me now, so close I could reach out and touch them both. Kael with his cold calm and burning shadows. Raiden with his stormy expression and silent fire.
And me burning in between them.
“Try again,” Kael says, like none of it rattled him. “This time, Raiden? Match her pulse. Use the tether. No control. Just connection.”
Raiden’s hand rises—hesitant—before lifting my shirt and settling just under my ribs.
I gasp. Magic erupts like a second heartbeat.
Kael doesn't move or blink. “Now defend yourself.”
He strikes. Fast.
And Raiden moves with me.
Together. Our hands lift. Magic slams outward in a spiraling shield, raw and wild but intact.
The floor sigils ripple, glowing brighter. The shadows Kael flung at us dissolve in a rush of wind and power. I’m panting. Sweat slicks my spine. But we did it. We stopped him.
Raiden drops his hand from my stomach and steps away, his gaze trained on my face. I can feel him trail his attention over me, pausing at the cut on my cheek from last night that has gained a wicked bruise to go with it.
“I’m fine,” I inform him before I turn to face Kael. “How was that?”
Kael’s lips twitch. Not a smile. Something darker.
“Better,” he says. “But not enough.”
I barely have time to catch my breath before Kael moves again, this time, slower. His steps are measured. Intentional.
“Your stance is off,” he says, circling behind me again. “Too rigid. You’ll crack if something hits you dead-on.”
Before I can respond, his hand is on my waist. Then the other—guiding me, tilting my hips, adjusting the angle of my shoulders with careful pressure that sends every nerve ending into overdrive. I forget how to breathe.
“You need to root here,” he says, his fingers pressing lightly into the curve of my lower back. “Let the magic settle. Let you settle.”
His proximity is dangerous. Not because I don’t trust him. But because part of me does.
Too much.
Raiden watches us, jaw tight, arms crossed again, but he doesn’t interfere. Doesn’t stop Kael in his instruction. The air crackles around us, full of what I can only call sexual tension, even though there is absolutely nothing sexual about the way he’s touching me.
Kael leans in, his mouth close to my ear. “Now lift your right arm.”
A shiver skates down my spine, but I do.
His hand glides down my forearm to adjust my wrist—bare skin to bare skin—and I swear I feel his magic slide beneath mine, threading like silk through flame. If I have a soul, I’d swear he just touched it.
“Again,” he says, stepping back and around me. “Raiden, match her pulse.”
We move in unison. Raiden’s hand presses against my stomach again, steadier now. Kael sends another strike—faster and harder this time—but I react.
We react. The shield snaps up between us, holding firm.
Kael smiles, slow and knowing. “There she is. I knew you were in there.”
We repeat the lesson three more times, until I’m damp with sweat and weak in the knees.
And then it’s over, the whole hour flew by.
The sigils on the floor fade. The tension lingers, but the lesson’s done.
I’m shaking—sweat-damp and breathless, but seen—in a way that has nothing to do with combat.
At least it feels like he saw me. The real me. The one that isn’t powerless.
Kael slips on his boots and strides to the door, pausing only long enough to throw over his shoulder, “She’s not ready to fight alone. You know that, so don’t push her away.”
Then he’s gone.
Raiden doesn’t speak right away. Just watches the door like he wants to punch it off its hinges. Then he looks at me.
“You shouldn’t have been out there alone.”
I fold my arms, not backing down. “I’m not a child. I can take a walk without a security detail.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “There are dangers here you don’t even know exist.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, “I’m starting to figure that out.”
His expression doesn’t soften, but his voice does. A little. “Just…don’t make a habit of it.”
I don’t promise anything. Just nod.
“You did good today,” he adds after a pause, reluctant but honest.
I snort. “Maybe that’s because I had an actual instructor for once.”
He flinches—barely—but I see it. And I’m not prepared for how guilty it makes me feel. He isn’t a terrible trainer; he was shoved into this the same as I was. Neither one of us asked for this.
“Sorry. I’m just…tired,” I add, quieter now.
He doesn’t say anything to that. Just nods once and walks away, his footsteps echoing behind him. And I stand there, still burning from everything that wasn’t said.