Dax’s gaze sharpened.
“That is not her voice.”
The witch’s hands closed into fists as though she were trying to force something back beneath her skin.
Her mouth curved into a smile that belonged to neither fear nor humanity.
“Sule’s bargain is due.”
The temperature inside the room dropped.
Every flame flickered.
Rhen’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Malakai, bring Mary and the medics.”
Malakai nodded and disappeared.
Cole remained near the doorway, watching the energy distort the air around the bed.
“That was not delirium.”
“I know what I heard.”
Another convulsion twisted through her. The bedframe shifted beneath the force, and a sudden gust struck the windows from inside the chamber.
Dax moved forward instinctively.
Rhen’s head turned.
“Stay back.”
“I am trying to help.”
“Then do it from there.”
Dax lifted both hands and retreated one step.
The witch folded around herself, clutching her abdomen as though something beneath the transition were attempting to tear through bone and muscle.
Rhen felt the connection then.
It was not the desire that had struck him earlier, nor the unsettled recognition he had refused to examine. This was a direct pull beneath his ribs, a demand formed through blood and magic that tightened whenever her body convulsed.
At the same moment, another connection flared elsewhere in the stronghold.
Veya screamed.
The sound traveled faintly through stone and distance, but every male in the room heard it.
Dax turned toward the corridor.
“She felt that.”
Cole’s expression darkened.
“Rhen’s blood entering another magical bond may have struck the tether.”
