The bond tightens, subtle but immediate. A pressure just beneath my ribs. Zeidan exhales slowly, like he’s weighing whether honesty is worth the cost.
“Yes,” he says, but doesn't elaborate.
I lift my head. “Why?”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His jaw tightens, the faintest flicker of tension crossing his face before it smooths back into control.
“Because the bond between us is no longer just magical, Amelia.”
The word lands heavy between us.
I stiffen. “Don’t?—”
“I know,” he cuts in calmly. “You don’t like the term. You don’t want to name it. But that’s what it is.” His gaze locks on mine, sharp and unyielding. “And pretending otherwise doesn’t change the mechanics.”
My pulse kicks harder. “That still doesn’t explain?—”
“It does,” he says. “Connection means awareness. I feel you.” He pauses, then adds, almost dismissively, “More than is strictly necessary.”
Heat creeps up my neck.
“That doesn’t give you the right?—”
“I didn’t take anything,” he says, voice cool. “I didn’t pry. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t push.” His fingers flex once against the stone table. “You were exhausted. Your magic was fraying. So I did what the bond allows.”
“And that was?” I demand.
“To give you rest.”
The words are clipped, almost harsh, like he’s daring me to accuse him.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” he continues quickly, retreating behind formality. “Don’t misinterpret it. I wasn’t being… sentimental. It was a practical response. Stabilization. That’s all.”
“Then why did it feel like peace?” I ask quietly.
He stills. Just for a fraction of a second.
“Because,” he says, more carefully now, “the bond doesn’t distinguish between necessity and kindness.”
The air hums, thick with things neither of us is willing to say. But I know he is lying.
I swallow. “You could’ve warned me.”
“Yes,” he admits. “I could have.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
His eyes flick away first.
“I wanted you to sleep,” he says, softer despite himself. “That was the priority.”
Before I can reply, a chime echoes through the archive, low and resonant. A ritual call.
My shoulders tense.
“Tonight,” I say. “The Renewal Rite.”
