Chapter 38
The black dress hung in my temporary quarters like a promise—or a threat, depending on how I looked at it.
I'd returned to the guest rooms near Headmistress Thorne's office to find my few belongings had been moved from the dormitory. A note explained that until the political situation fully stabilized, I'd be staying in the secured wing. Safer. More controlled. More isolated from normal Academy life.
Brooke had been allowed to visit, helping me arrange the dress and accessories on the wardrobe door so we could admire them properly.
"You're going to look incredible," she said for the fifth time. "Kairen's going to lose his mind when he sees you."
"Kairen's still angry at me." I traced the silk fabric with one finger. "He might not even look at me beyond what's required for bond balance."
"Then he's an idiot. But also—" She sat on the edge of my bed. "Have you felt anything through the bond? Since last night?"
I had. That was the problem.
Through the soulbond, I'd felt Kairen's constant presence—anger, yes, but also confusion, hurt, and underneath it all, a longing he was desperately trying to suppress.
He wanted to be angry. Wanted to maintain distance.
But the soulbond made isolation impossible.
Every emotion I felt echoed to him, and vice versa.
"He's processing," I said. "He needs time."
"And you're giving it to him. Which is very mature and patient of you." Brooke's expression turned mischievous. "But that doesn't mean you can't look absolutely devastating at the Festival. Sometimes the best response to someone being stubborn is to remind them what they're being stubborn about."
"That seems manipulative."
"That's strategy. There's a difference." She stood, moving to examine the dress more closely.
"Besides, you're not wearing this for him.
You're wearing it for you. Because you survived assassination attempts and dragon bonding and all the impossible things everyone said you couldn't. This dress is armor, not bait. "
I smiled despite everything. "When did you become so wise?"
"I've always been wise. You were just too busy being self-sacrificing to notice." She glanced toward the door connecting my room to Kairen's. "Has he said anything? About tomorrow?"
"No. We've barely spoken since the revelation." I kept my voice low, even though I knew he could probably hear us through the door. Or feel us through the soulbond. "He's maintaining required proximity—we did our morning training session—but that's all."
The morning session had been excruciating.
Two hours in the same space, practicing merged magic with mechanical precision, neither of us addressing what had been said.
The twilight constructs had formed perfectly—our magic worked regardless of emotional distance.
But the careful silence between us had been louder than any argument.
"Give him time," Brooke said, echoing what everyone kept telling me. "He'll come around."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then you look devastating at the Festival anyway, dance with other people, and show him that you're perfectly capable of thriving whether he sorts out his issues or not.
" She squeezed my shoulder. "Now, I need to get back to my room and start getting ready.
Caleb's supposed to pick me up at seven, and I still need to do something with my hair. "
After she left, I sat alone with the dress and my tangled thoughts.
Tomorrow night. The Solstice Festival. Dancing, formal celebrations, the entire Academy watching to see how the light and shadow dragon bonds interacted after the assassination attempt.
I pulled Elara's private journal from my bag—I'd been carrying it everywhere since Brooke and I returned from the city. Her words about Aldric, about the shadow bond who'd run from her, felt especially relevant now.
"Day 127 of the Bond
Aldric spoke to me today. Actually spoke, beyond monosyllables and necessary coordination. We were forced to work together on a Council demonstration—show them how shadow and light could merge their magic.
He was professional. Distant. But after, when the Council had left and we were alone in the demonstration chamber, he said: 'I'm sorry.'
Just that. Two words.
I asked him what he was sorry for. For running? For fighting the connection? For making this harder than it needed to be?
He said: 'For not being brave enough to accept what terrifies me.'
Then he left before I could respond. And I stood there wondering if an apology without change means anything at all."
I closed the journal, chest tight.
Kairen had apologized yesterday—or at least acknowledged that he understood why I'd kept the soulbond secret. But understanding wasn't forgiveness. And the anger still burned through our connection like cold fire.
Tomorrow night, we'd have to dance together. The bond requirements would demand it—light and shadow needed regular balance, and the Festival was the perfect opportunity for public demonstration of control.
Would he apologize? Would he explain how he felt beyond just anger? Or would we move through the motions with perfect precision while the soulbond screamed about everything left unsaid?
"You're spiraling," Aurelius observed through our bond. "I can feel your anxiety from here."
"How can I not spiral? Everything's a mess."
"Everything's complicated. There's a difference." His warmth surrounded me. "The Festival tomorrow is important—not just politically, but personally. It's the first time you'll appear publicly since the assassination attempt. The first time you'll show everyone that you're not hiding or afraid."
"I am afraid."
"That's different from showing it. You can be afraid and still walk into that Festival with your head high.
Can be hurt and angry about Kairen and still dance with grace.
Can be uncertain about the future and still make them all remember that you bonded with me—a dragon thought extinct for three centuries. "
"That's a lot of pressure."
"You've handled worse pressure. You survived the Wilderness. You stopped Kairen from being consumed by void. " His pride flowed through the bond. "Tomorrow night is just dancing and formal conversation. You'll manage."
"What if Kairen refuses to dance with me?"
"He won't. The bond requirements won't let him maintain that much distance. His shadows will demand proximity whether he wants them to or not."
That was true. Even now, with careful walls between us, I could feel the soulbond pulling. The need for balance, for closeness, for the harmony that came when our magic merged.
Tomorrow night, with hundreds of eyes watching, Kairen would have to acknowledge that need.
And I'd have to face him while wearing black silk and carrying the weight of broken trust.
The evening before the Festival, Headmistress Thorne summoned both of us to her office.
I arrived first, taking one of the chairs across from her desk. Through the soulbond, I felt Kairen approaching—his presence growing stronger as he climbed the stairs to the administrative tower.
He entered without knocking, his expression carefully neutral. His shadows were more controlled than they'd been in weeks, held tight against his body like armor.
"Sit," Headmistress Thorne said.
Kairen took the chair as far from mine as possible while still being in the same conversation. Through the soulbond, I felt his determination to maintain distance warring with his body's instinctive pull toward me.
"Tomorrow night's Festival," Headmistress Thorne began without preamble. "Both of you will attend. Both of you will be on display. The entire magical community will be watching to see how dragon bonds behave after the incident."
"We understand," Kairen said.
"Do you?" Her sharp gaze moved between us. "Because from where I'm sitting, you two can barely stand to be in the same room, and yet tomorrow you're expected to demonstrate perfect harmony."
Silence.
"I don't know what happened between you," she continued. "And frankly, it's not my business unless it affects bond stability. But whatever personal conflict you're dealing with, you will set it aside tomorrow night. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Headmistress," I said quietly.
"Mr. Draxen?"
"Crystal clear." His voice was flat.
"Good. Now, expectations for tomorrow: You'll arrive together.
You'll sit together during the formal portions.
You'll dance together at least three times—the opening waltz, the midnight dance, and one other of your choosing.
" She pulled out a schedule. "Between dances, you're welcome to socialize separately, but you must maintain visual proximity. The bond balance requires it."
Through the soulbond, I felt Kairen's cold acceptance. He'd known this was coming. Had probably been preparing himself for exactly these requirements.
"Additionally, several Council members will be in attendance. They'll want to speak with you, assess the situation for themselves. Be polite. Be diplomatic. Don't give them ammunition to argue that dragon bonds are unstable or dangerous."
"We'll behave," I said.
"See that you do." Headmistress Thorne's expression softened slightly.
"I know this is difficult. I know you're both dealing with more than any student should have to handle.
But tomorrow night, you're not just students.
You're representatives of what dragon bonds can be.
Show them strength, control, and unity—even if it's performed rather than genuine. "
"Understood," Kairen said.
After we were dismissed, we walked down the corridor in silence. At the junction where we'd separate—him to his temporary quarters, me to mine—Kairen finally spoke.
"About tomorrow night."
I stopped, turning to face him. "Yes?"
"I'll maintain the requirements. The dances, the proximity, the public presentation of unity." His storm-gray eyes met mine, and I saw the conflict there. "But don't expect more than that. I'm still—" He stopped, jaw clenching. "I'm still processing."
"I know."
"And I'm still angry."
"I know that too."
He studied me for a long moment, and through the soulbond I felt something crack in his careful control. Longing, sharp and painful, before he suppressed it again.
"The dress," he said abruptly. "Brooke mentioned you went shopping. That you found something."
"I did."
"Black?"
"How did you—"
"I felt it through the bond. Your satisfaction with the choice." Something that wasn't quite a smile touched his lips. "It'll look good. Black against light. Contrast that makes sense."
Then he walked away before I could respond, shadows trailing behind him like questions I couldn't answer.
I stood in the empty corridor, feeling the ghost of his longing through the soulbond. He'd noticed. Had felt my emotions about the dress through our connection. And despite his anger, despite his need for distance, some part of him cared what I wore tomorrow night.
Some part of him was still drawn to me, even as he fought it.
Tomorrow night, I'd wear black silk and silver light.
Tomorrow night, I'd dance with someone who was angry at me but couldn't stop his magic from reaching for mine.
Tomorrow night, the entire Academy would watch two dragon bonds pretend perfect harmony while the truth of what we were to each other remained unspoken.
And somewhere in the dancing and diplomacy and careful performance, maybe we'd find a way to start rebuilding what my secret had broken.
Or maybe we'd just survive another impossible evening, adding it to the growing list of things we'd endured together while remaining fundamentally apart.
Either way, the black dress hung in my wardrobe like a promise.
Tomorrow, I'd stop hiding.
Tomorrow, I'd show everyone—Kairen included—that I wasn't weak or broken or ashamed.
Tomorrow, the girl who'd bonded with legends would walk into that Festival and remind them all why light dragons chose the stubborn ones.
The ones who refused to break.