CHAPTER FOUR
The Great Hall of Lumina was built to intimidate.
Cold white marble stretched beneath my feet, polished so smooth my own reflection looked like a ghost walking beneath me. Every step I took down the central aisle echoed against the vaulted rafters, the sound too loud.
Banners bearing the twin-serpent ouroboros hung from the pillars, their fangs locked in an endless circle that felt less like a symbol of life and more like a warning of a trap.
At the far end, the Council sat elevated upon a crescent of high-backed chairs carved from the same pale stone as the pillars.
I swallowed against the tightness climbing my throat and forced myself to lift my gaze toward the dais.
Lord Evander—the eldest of the council—occupied the center seat, his silver-white beard spilling over his robe like a river of frost. To his left sat Dame Seraphina, his second in command.
As enforcers of Haelen’s law, they were the final authority on the unbound.
A subtle disturbance near the base of the dais fractured the silence. A Veythar, his face half-veiled by the hood of his obsidian cloak, leaned toward a High Court guard and murmured something too low for me to hear.
The guard stiffened, his gaze snapping to me.
“Lord Evander,” he announced, his voice booming against the vaulted rafters, “Kaelia Vaser was scheduled for assessment last night. The Veythar report she fled before the resonance could be recorded.”
Evander’s gaze descended upon me. “Is this true, Kaelia? Did you flee the Master of Umbral’s men?”
The entire hall seemed to inhale at once. I felt their scrutiny settle like chains across my shoulders.
“Yes, sir.”
Evander leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “I see no certificates of bond filed from your ward within the last twenty-four hours.”
“I am not bound,” I replied.
Lord Evander tilted his head. “Then explain why you fled.”
Before I could form a response, the great heartwood doors groaned open.
Talon entered without a word or announcement, yet the chamber fell silent in his wake.
As he strode past, the scent of woodsmoke and mountain rain cut through the sterile air of the hall.
I felt his gaze sharp against my skin, and I forced my shoulders back, meeting the heat of his presence by standing a little straighter.
He took his seat among the elders, broad shoulders settling back, one arm resting along the carved edge of the chair.
“Approach the platform,” Evander commanded.
The hem of my crimson wool skirt whispered across the marble as I moved. I ascended the shallow rise of the dais and positioned myself at its center, lifting my chin despite the tremor threading through my legs.
I would not bow to fear before they had formally condemned me.
“You stand before this council at the breach of your twenty-first bound day,” Evander continued. “Failure to bind jeopardizes the integrity of our wards and invites the encroaching shadows of Umbral.”
In Haelen, my reluctance to not bind was not just a personal choice.
“Kaelia,” Dame Seraphina interjected, her voice softer than Evander’s. “Why do you stand here unbound? Is it that you have found no suitable match, or is there a deeper reluctance?”
My jaw tightened before I could stop it.
“I have met many,” I answered carefully. “But none have felt compatible with my soul. I will not tether myself to a stranger merely to satisfy a decree.”
Talon’s dark brows lifted a fraction, curiosity sharpening the cool depth of his gaze as it met mine across the table.
“The decree exists for preservation,” Evander replied. “The kingdom does not weigh the quality of affection, only the presence of connection.”
“And if an Elarthai never appears?” I pressed, unable to temper the rising heat in my voice. “Are we to be condemned because fate withholds its favor? Is an incompatible bond truly stronger than none at all?”
A ripple of restrained murmuring spread across the chamber.
“The ward does not discriminate,” Talon answered at last, his voice low and resonant. “A true bond, a forged bond, a forced bond—all reinforce the structure, provided both parties accept the tether. It is the unbound who fray its edges.”
Evander inclined his head. “You have seventy-two hours. By dawn on your twenty-first birthday, you must be bound. If you are not, the Veythar will execute their sworn obligation.”
“The Council offers you a temporary reprieve,” Dame Seraphina continued. “You will report to the Royal Archives and assist Keeper Sora. Perhaps in the study of forgotten histories, you will discover clarity.”
A political mercy. A supervised one.
“It would also serve you,” Evander added, “to continue seeking an Elarthai publicly. A gathering will be arranged in Isvale for those similarly unbound.”
My nose almost scrunched in distaste.
A curated marketplace of desperation.
I offered the dais a stiff curtsy. “Thank you, Lord Evander. Dame Seraphina.”
I did not thank Talon.
I did not even look at him as I turned to leave, but his voice claimed the hall before I could reach the doors.
“I will see you in Isvale at midday, little flame.”
I froze.
“Your penchant for running has earned you a chaperone.”
My skin burned under the weight of his words, a prickling heat that had nothing to do with the hall’s sconces.
My seventy-two hours—the final, precious scrap of my life that actually belonged to me—would now unfold beneath the watchful gaze of the Master of the Veythar.