“They will,” I say. “And they will listen.”
Clara searches my face, looking for doubt. Finding none, she lowers her weapon fully. But the damage is done. Fear spreads outward in ripples.
They let us pass, but only barely. The whisper spreads like fire through dry grass. By the time we reach the inner circle, half the coven is waiting.
Faces I’ve known my whole life now look at me like I’m poison. Or worse…traitor.
My mother is among them. Her expression is carved from ice.
"Inside. Now."
I nod once and lead Zeidan forward. The bond stretches between us like a leash, but I refuse to show weakness. As we step forward, Zeidan’s hand closes around mine.
I stiffen.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Stabilizing the bond,” he murmurs.
“I don’t need?—”
“You’re shaking.”
I hadn’t noticed. But now that he says it, I feel the tremor in my fingers.
“I’m not afraid,” I say.
“You can pretend all you want,” he replies quietly. “But I can feel you.”
The warmth of his hand steadies something in my chest, grounding the chaos threatening to rise. I hate that it helps.
So I don’t pull away.
The coven hall smells of burned herbs and strained patience. The council is assembled.
Elder Cael speaks first. "You return with him. Why?"
"Because I made a deal to save us."
"You’ve bonded to the enemy."
"I’ve bonded to a solution. You should be thanking me."
Cael slams a hand against the table. "You’ve cursed yourself! The Vrakken broke our last truce in blood. You think this one is different?"
Zeidan says nothing. He watches the room like a wolf waiting to be attacked. Not afraid. Just... waiting.
I step closer to the council dais. "We are dying. The Wildspont is thinning, the wards failing. And you would rather cling to pride than accept help?"
A flicker of magic pulses beneath the floor. A warning. The elders are close to snapping. My mother lifts a hand. And all that follows is silence.
"You bonded him," she says. "Is it true?"
I nod once.
"Then you will prove it."
She steps down, and without waiting, slices her palm with a ceremonial blade. She presses her hand to mine. The bond surges between us, and through her pain, I feel it, hesitation, grief, fear.
