Chapter 45
ESME
“Tricky?” Dayn’s voice cuts across the clearing, low and dangerous, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “Explain. Now.”
I glare at Esther, betrayal burning hot in my chest. She’s been pulling strings for far too long—probably long before the Ide trials, before Dayn, before any of this. “You did this to me? Without telling me? What the hell were you thinking?”
Esther’s expression remains firm, as if I’m a child throwing a tantrum over something inevitable.
“I was thinking of the future, Esme. Of power. Dominic needed an anchor to return smoothly, and you were the perfect match: strong, connected to the Salem line, already spiritually attuned. It was a necessary step.”
“Necessary?” I spit the word, standing so fast my chair topples backward. Shadows coil unbidden around my fingers, responding to the rage surging through me. “You bonded me to him? Like I’m some kind of bargaining chip in your eternal schemes?”
Dominic raises a hand, his voice calm amid the storm. “It wasn’t meant to bind you unwillingly, Esme. The connection was forged to stabilize my return, but it can be adjusted. Severed, even, if that’s what you desire. Though, as I said… it’s not without complications.”
“Elaborate,” I demand.
Dominic folds his hands on the table, maddeningly composed while Dayn looks ready to burn the table to ash.
“The bond cannot simply be cut like thread,” he says. “It was woven through your soul, through the same channels that now connect you to Dayn. Remove it carelessly, and the damage would not be limited to me. It could destabilize you. Your magic. Your mind. Potentially even your bond with him.”
Dayn steps forward anyway, every line of him sharp with restrained violence. “Then we do it carefully.”
Dominic’s gaze flicks to him, unreadable. “Carefully is relative when bond magic is involved.”
I fold my arms, mostly to stop my hands from shaking. “Stop speaking like I’m not standing right here and explain what actually has to happen.”
For the first time, something almost hesitant passes across Dominic’s face.
“There is an old rite,” he says. “One that predates even the mage schism. It is called The Rite of Claim.”
Dayn goes very still beside me. Dominic glances at him, holding his gaze. “Are you not familiar with it?”
Dayn’s jaw tightens, something dark and unreadable moving behind his eyes. “I’m familiar,” he says, his voice flat enough to make the hairs on my arms rise. “I was hoping you weren’t suggesting it.”
That is somehow the least reassuring answer possible.
“The Rite of Claim exists for one purpose,” Dominic continues, looking at me. “When two forces hold competing claim over the same soul, the rite forces resolution. It reveals which bond is true, which is imposed, and severs the correct bond without destroying the vessel.”
“I already know which is true,” I snap, even as I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. “I don’t even know you, Dominic! I… I’m already with Dayn.”
Silence follows that. It’s thick, immediate, and somehow far louder than all the shouting before it. I can feel every pair of eyes at the table shift to me. Heat climbs all the way up my neck, but I force myself not to look away.
I feel Dayn’s reaction before I even look at him—a sharp, fierce pulse of something that steals my breath.
Pride. Relief. Something deeper, warmer, that wraps around my ribs and settles there.
His hand finds mine at my side, silent and certain, his fingers closing around mine like he doesn’t need words at all.
Dominic watches that—our joined hands, the answer already written there—and something quieter settles over his expression.
“Yes,” he says softly. “And that is exactly the issue.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“The Rite of Claim does not judge assumptions,” he says. “It judges truth. And truth must be tested fairly.”
Dayn’s hand tightens around mine.
I already dislike where this is going.
Dominic continues. “Your bond with Dayn was formed through blood, proximity, trust, time. You know him. Your soul knows him. It responds to him instinctively.”
His dark eyes lower to mine.
“You do not know me.”
“Obviously.”
“The bond Esther created was functional, not personal,” he continues. “It anchored me to this world, but it was never given the chance to become anything more. The Rite will reject imbalance. If it is to decide truth, both bonds must be fully seen—not just one.”
A cold feeling creeps into my stomach.
“No.”
No one has even said the thing yet, and I already know.
Dominic’s voice stays even.
“For the rite to work, you would need to know me.”
“No.”
“Esme—”
“No.”
Brynn straightens. “I’m with her, and I don’t even know exactly what we’re rejecting yet.”
“Besides,” Esther interjects, impatient, “you are all ignoring the consequences for the entire coven. For every darkblood. We have stability now. Protection. Dominic is not simply an individual concern—he is the anchor holding the Ides firmly between our realm and the Ide veil. He is also the key to something far greater: the possibility of restoring the Ides to independent forms of their own, removing the need for darkbloods to serve as hosts at all.”
Her gaze fixes on me, sharp and unyielding.
“We are learning more every day. About the Ides, about the strange nature of their existence, about this untapped branch of magic and the kind of power it could unlock. This is only the beginning.” Her voice hardens.
“If you tamper with that foundation, you risk destabilizing everything. Every plan. Every possibility. Ide magic is still largely uncharted—volatile, poorly understood, and dangerous by nature. The fact that we have managed to harness it this successfully at all is extraordinary.”
Translation: be grateful I violated your autonomy for the greater good.
I almost laugh.
And yet, against my own anger, a thought slips in. What if we just… did nothing. For now. Let the Ide power keep shielding us. Let Dominic remain the anchor. Watch. Wait. Monitor whatever this is before tearing everything apart.
Because either way, I seem to be stuck in the middle of a shitshow. Either I submit myself to some ancient rite involving Dominic and gods know what else, or I learn to live with this invisible thread inside me—this second bond I never asked for.
But the second option doesn’t mean Dayn and I can’t be together. It just means… living with something, this anchor, lodged somewhere deep inside me. Like a splinter I can’t reach.
I mean, so far I’ve hardly noticed it. Whatever shield Esther layered over that bond—whatever she used to dull me, to mute what I felt for Dayn—that’s gone now, thanks to Salome. And I’m still here. Still me. Still standing beside him.
We could survive this. Right?
“If my bond to Esme is severed,” Dominic continues, calm as ever, “I could, potentially, find another anchor.”
Esther turns to him. “And who, exactly, would that be?”
“I would find one.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No,” he says, his voice cool now, “it is simply not one you like.”
“Wait—wait,” I cut in, my jaw so tight it aches. “Can we go back to the part where apparently my entire life has been built on a technicality?”
Everyone goes quiet.
I look directly at Esther.
“You lied to me. Or at the very least, you deliberately buried the truth. I was never told—not once—that I would be permanently bonded to Dominic. It was always presented like I was helping with some temporary vessel situation. A one-time job. Complete the Ide trials, stabilize the return, protect the coven.” My voice sharpens.
“You never mentioned that you would deliberately spiritually tie me to him for the rest of my life.”
Esther doesn’t flinch. “Because if I had, you may have refused.”
“Yes,” I snap. “Exactly. That should have been your first clue that maybe you shouldn’t do it.”
Something ticks in her jaw. “Leadership requires decisions that others are too shortsighted to make. Some things are bigger than one life, Esme. One day, you will understand that.”
“Don’t do that,” I growl, stepping closer.
“Don’t stand there pretending your control is wisdom.
You made a choice about my body, my soul, and my future because it was convenient for your plans.
” The shadows around my hands curl tighter.
“But worse than that, you didn’t trust me to choose.
You just decided I didn’t deserve a choice. ”
Before Esther can respond, Dominic steps in, his voice cutting cleanly through the tension.
“Esme.”
I stare at him—at that sharp line of his jaw, the raven-black hair framing his face, the stark pale of his skin—and swear I feel it. That second bond, faint but there. The shadows keep curling restlessly around my fingers, but I force them still, my entire body tight with the effort.
Dominic looks between Esther and me. His eyes are like dark pools—like deep water at night, the kind you can’t quite see the bottom of—and focused. His expression stays calm. Steady. Infuriatingly composed.
“Whatever was done, rightly or wrongly, has already been done,” he says. “We can spend the entire day tearing into each other over it, but that will not change the reality standing in front of us.”
Esther’s mouth presses into a thin line. For once, she doesn’t argue.
His gaze settles on me. “The bond exists. The consequences exist. The question now is not what should have happened, but what you want to do next… But no one is asking you to decide now.”
Slowly, he begins to walk around the table.
“For now, we are safe. The barrier stands. The coven is protected. The Ides are stable. Nothing is collapsing overnight. So just… sleep on it. Let the anger settle before you consider your next steps.”
I almost scoff. As if that’s remotely possible.
But still, some of the fury drains out of me, leaving behind something worse: exhaustion.
Bone-deep. Soul-deep, if that’s even possible.
Dayn and I just survived a brutal journey through gathering our personal anchors, through Verith, through Salome’s ritual, through everything that came with that—and now we return to this.
I want sleep. I want rest. I want one night where my soul isn’t a political discussion.
I want to deal with this shitshow tomorrow.
“Fine,” I mutter, stepping back from the table.
My hand finds Dayn’s automatically, fingers closing around his. Solid. Familiar. Mine.
“I’ll sleep on it. But you should know—whatever we discuss next, I’ll be bringing my own negotiation chips to the table.”
I shoot Esther one final glare, sharp enough to promise this conversation is far from over, before I turn and tug Dayn with me.
He follows without hesitation.
I don’t look back.
Though, as we walk, I catch Dominic’s voice behind us, soft and unnervingly calm.
“I look forward to seeing them.”