CHAPTER FOUR
KADEN
She’s not what I expected, not that I expected much… I know next to nothing about her.
Daughter of Eryon and Selene Morningstar.
Her father died in the border war six years ago, or so the story goes.
Really, he was bled dry after discovering something The Council clearly wanted buried.
I’ve searched for years to uncover what it was he learned, but The Council keeps me at arm’s length, using me as nothing more than a sharpened blade, a weapon they point at enemies and unleash when it suits them.
Her mother passed away when Elysia was just fourteen. One of the very first to fall to the plague, a cruel fate. I’ve seen the records, the body counts, the trail of families left broken by the disease, but something about the details stick with me.
I was expecting someone melancholy and timid, perhaps even docile. A woman who would shrink beneath the weight of a soulbond, pliant and easy to manoeuvre.
Then she walked through the Binding Hall doors.
She looked like the moon itself, silver-blue light caught in the strands of her dark hair. Her eyes pale blue and endless, like she could peel back my layers with a single glance, even before the bond.
There was this indescribable pull in her, like the stars circling their moon, drawn by a gravity they could never escape. Looking at her felt like remembering something I’d loved a thousand times before.
When the binding began, her power lashed at me like a wildfire, fierce and unyielding. And as it pressed against my mind, it was not a soft touch but a breaking storm. I felt her everywhere.
Her lungs filling with air. Her heartbeat syncing with mine in a rhythm all their own. Thoughts, fleeting and sharp, slipped against the edges of my consciousness. Emotions surged like waves. Hate, defiance, the sheer force of will that defines her. It was… intoxicating.
To say she excites me is an understatement.
She is stubborn, sharp-witted and determined. She burns back against every word I speak, rage sparking with equal parts defiance.
I linger in the shared sitting room, the silence of the Tower broken only by the faint hum of runes thrumming through the stone. It’s been a week since the binding, and for the most part, we’ve stayed out of each other’s way. Though she’s caught me with her dagger on multiple fucking occasions.
My stomach growls, pulling me from my thoughts and dragging me toward the kitchen. The space is clean, polished wooden counters catching the low glow of rune-powered lights, shelves neatly stocked as if the maids had already anticipated my appetite.
I pull a bottle of dark red wine from the rack, pour a heavy glass and tear into a loaf of crusted bread. Salted meats, sharp cheese and figs follow, filling a plate I barely glance at before devouring.
But even here, even while chewing, I feel her.
Through the bond, warm and constant.
I can feel her winding down, exhaustion tugging at her bones, her thoughts fluttering with reluctance before finally softening as she falls asleep. The bond shifts and deepens as her rest trickles into me, peace humming faintly through my veins.
I almost hate how much I want to lean into it.
I finish my meal and carry the bottle of wine into my personal chambers.
My quarters are as grand as expected, polished mahogany flooring, a king-size bed adjacent to a well-sized balcony, and a desk stacked high with parchment and tomes.
The Council has already transferred all my plague research here.
Dropping into the high-backed chair, I push aside my unfinished drawings and open a weathered tome. Pages flick through my fingers, notes scrawled in my own sharp handwriting, tangled with those borrowed from the research archives.
I sip wine as I read, the liquid burning my throat as I try to connect the dots that constantly slip just beyond reach.
The bond keeps tugging at me with each breath she takes, the air she breathes brushing against my own lungs. Each relaxed heartbeat echoes in my chest. Her sleep is steady now, that calm, stubborn flame tucked away but still burning beneath the surface.
By the time the pale blue sky turns black, and the stars start to twinkle, the tomes lie forgotten at my feet.
Charcoal dust smudges my fingers as I lean closer, intent on the careful sketching of constellations, a lone moon suspended above them all.
Its faint glow spills downward, catching in the lines of her hair and settling on her eyes.
I pause there longer than necessary. The charcoal is set aside, and for the first time, I reach for colour. A trace of blue, it seeps into her gaze enough to give it that familiar defiance I've become all too familiar with.
Wine still lingers warm on my tongue as her quiet presence wraps around me like a tether, and when at last her moonstruck eyes look back at me, I turn away and leave the drawing behind.
I sink into my bed, the dark sheets cool against my skin, and eventually I’m lulled into a restful sleep by the soothing beat of her heart.
Terror jolts me awake, pure and all-consuming terror.
My chest heaves, my pulse slamming against my ribs like a war drum.
But it isn’t mine… It’s hers.
Her fear rushes through the bond like a floodgate breaking, panic clawing at the edges of my mind.
Before I can even form a thought, my body moves out of bed and across the suite toward her private quarters.
At her door, I pause for a pulse, then flex my fingers and call my shadows.
They bleed from my palms in fluid ribbons, slithering to the lock and curling around the inner ridges, testing and prying until a muted click splits the silence.
The door drifts open an inch and shadows pool beneath my feet, muffling my steps as I push it wider and slip inside.
Her room is starkly different to mine.
Light wood gleams faintly under the silver wash of moonlight. Magical plants climb across the balcony and windowsills, their leaves glowing softly in blues and purples. A desk is buried beneath books and hand-drawn diagrams, a weathered diary resting atop them.
Beside it, an armoury gleams faintly, the surface scattered with weapons—Daggers, throwing knives, even a bow that looks well-used. Against the opposite wall, a double bed sits entwined with silverthorn vines, white and faintly glowing leaves curling delicately across the frame.
And there she is.
Elysia lies beneath midnight-blue sheets, her hair spilt across the pillow in an unbound waterfall, glowing silver and blue where the soft light kisses it.
She’s on her back, head turned, and one arm tucked close to her face.
Sweat slicks her fair skin, catching the light in beads.
Her chest rises and falls with uneven, shaky breaths.
She looks ethereal.
I remind myself of who she is and what her bloodline has cost me. Without this cursed bond, I’d feel nothing but loathing for the fiery little mage I met only a week ago.
She whimpers softly and twists in her sheets, her breath growing more ragged with every intake of air. A nightmare, that much is clear. But what could make her fear so raw, so searing, that it bleeds into me even during sleep?
I shouldn’t care; any concern I feel is a side effect of the bond. Nothing more. Once training starts and we learn to control it, I can shut it down.
I start to turn, leaving her to her restless dreams, but she shifts and rolls onto her side, hair falling across her face and tumbling down over her shoulder and hip in a cascade of blue. Before I can stop myself, I move closer.
My traitorous hand lifts and brushes the strands back, tucking them behind her ear. My fingers grazing the soft line of her cheek. The scent of roses lingers faintly in her hair, drifting up to strike me in the chest like a blow.
My heart skips, and heat floods my veins, then I stagger back as if burned.
What the fuck.
Snapping out of it, I storm from the room. Shadows coiling to close the door behind me softly, sealing it with a quiet click.
My pulse still hammers as I stalk down into the kitchen. I grab a glass, fill it with water, and down it in great gulps, trying to smother the fury burning inside me at my own weakness.
Skin-to-skin contact has been known to strengthen the bond. I know this, and yet I allowed my hand to touch her… worse still, I allowed it to linger.
The stronger our bond, the more power we’ll wield. That will aid me in finding a cure, but that is the only advantage worth pursuing.
No amount of power is worth the risk of feeling anything more than mutual tolerance for Elysia Morningstar.