He hesitates, then adds quietly, “I was close… before I joined the Trial of the Bound.”
My heart twists. He remembers after all. “Is that how you planned to free the Shadebloods?” I ask softly. “To step far enough to escape…” I stop myself before saying the goddess’s name. “Elysium?”
His expression hardens. “Yes.”
The single word lands heavy between us.
He worked for years to master the shadows. Not for power, not for himself, but to bring others to freedom. And I destroyed that. I bound him to me.
The realization sinks deep. He should hate me. Maybe he does.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He only nods. Silence folds over us as we make our way back to the cabin.
Inside, the space is dim with the dying light of the fireplace. Kaelzarhelps me settle in, guiding me toward the bed while I try to steady my breathing.
I don’t mention the pressure building beneath my skin, the way my trapped magic throbs against muscle and bone, how it feels as though my body is no longer enough to contain it. My jaw aches, my fingers burn, and every breath makes my ribs feel too tight. Still, I say nothing.
Kaelzar keeps glancing at me anyway, suspicion darkening his eyes as he moves around the room, preparing for the night as I settle in bed.
When he returns to my side, I lift my bandaged hands. “Could we take these off?” I ask.
“Not yet, but it’s time to change them,” he replies.
His strict regimen of pain-numbing herbs seems to help, the ache in my side has dulled enough that I can move without wincing. He sits at the edge of the bed, and I offer him my hands. He unwraps the bandages carefully, his eyes fixed on the task. When the last strip falls away, he studies the stitches, and I see his jaw tighten.
I know what he’s thinking—if I don’t heal soon, the scars will stay. Just like his.
“I don’t mind having these scars,” I say softly. “Do you mind yours?”
His hands freeze. His chest rises sharply, a reflex he doesn’t seem to control.
I can tell this is a wound he doesn’t want touched and regret my words immediately. My instinct is to tell him he doesn’t have to answer, but the need to know more about him wins and I hold my tongue.
“I never had a choice in keeping them,” he says quietly. “They were meant to stay as a reminder to never reach for what I want, because it never mattered.” His voice drops lower, almost to himself. “A reminder I seem to need again.”
“Why?” The word slips out before I can stop it, my body pulled tight with a sudden, hot anticipation. Of what, I can’t tell, only that it feels important to know.
But instead of answering, Kaelzar jerks back, sliding away from me. His hand flies to his chest where the chains are already grinding into his flesh.
It happens so fast that I’m momentarily stunned. Up close, I see the brutality of Kaelzar’s torture. The chain’s barbed links biting deep. They tear into his flesh instead of cutting it clean, grinding under invisible command, pulling and tightening in a relentless rhythm that carves into him with every motion. Blood streaks down his chest, seeping into the sheets, and I see him rising, most likely planning to escape again.
I have to help him.
I have to stop him from thinking of that damned Goddess who keeps tightening her hold, forcing his suffering again and again.
Before I can think, before I can stop myself, I cup his face and press my lips to his.
It’s a terrible idea. Madness.
But my body moves before my mind can catch up.
Kaelzar goes completely still.
For a breathless moment, nothing happens. Even the chains go quiet.
Doubt creeps into my chest. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if this was a mistake. I should?—
