Kael's POV
I couldn't get her face out of my head.
Those green eyes. Silver-flecked. Haunted.
Sera.
I stood in my private chambers, staring at the marked palm that had ruined everything. The chain glowed faintly in the lamplight, pulsing in rhythm with a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
Hers.
Even now, I could feel her. She was several floors below me in the cell, scared but trying to stay brave. Her emotions bled into mine like water through cracked stone.
I'd spent fourteen years building walls around my feelings. Brick by brick. Death by death. Until I was empty. Numb. Perfect.
She'd destroyed those walls in seconds.
"Damn you," I whispered to the empty room. "Damn you for making me feel again."
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Enter."
Riven slipped inside, his young face worried. At twenty-three, he was ten years younger than me, but he'd been my assistant for five years. I'd saved him from execution when he was eighteen—caught stealing bread to feed his dying sister.
He was one of three people in the world I almost trusted.
"Boss, we have a problem," Riven said. "Lord Theron is demanding an audience. He wants to know why you stopped the execution of his nephew."
"Tell him I'm investigating dark magic. It's the truth."
"He's not going to accept that for long." Riven moved closer, lowering his voice. "People are talking. They saw what happened in the plaza. The girl bleeding when you touched your blade to the boy's neck. They're saying you're cursed. That someone put a spell on The Reaper."
Also true.
"Let them talk," I said.
"Kael." Riven rarely used my real name. "What's really going on? That girl—who is she to you?"
I looked at my marked palm. "Nothing. A mistake. A problem I need to solve."
But through the bond, I felt Sera's hurt at my words. She'd heard them somehow, felt my dismissal like a slap.
Great. Now I couldn't even think privately anymore.
I'm sorry, I thought, not sure if she could hear. Then I cursed myself for apologizing.
"The High Priestess Morvaine wants to see you," Riven continued. "She heard about the incident and offered to help identify the magic."
Every instinct I had screamed danger. Morvaine was the emperor's closest advisor, his expert in blood magic and forbidden rituals. If she examined our bond too closely, she'd realize what it was. What it meant.
And then Sera and I would both be dead.
"Tell her I'll meet with her tomorrow," I said. "I need time to prepare my report."
Riven nodded and left, but I could see the concern in his eyes.
I grabbed my execution blade and strapped it on. I needed to think, and thinking required movement.
I headed down to the training yards, even though it was nearly midnight. The Citadel never truly slept—guards trained at all hours, preparing for threats that might never come.
I drew my blade and started the forms. Slash. Block. Turn. Strike.
The movements were automatic, burned into my muscles by years of practice. My mind drifted while my body worked.
What was I going to do about Sera?
I couldn't keep her prisoner forever. Eventually, someone would demand answers. Lord Theron wouldn't stop until both she and her brother were dead. The Emperor would want to know about the dark magic that stopped an execution.
And Morvaine—she was the most dangerous of all. She studied blood magic. If she discovered our bond, she'd want to experiment on us. Dissect it. Maybe dissect us.
Through the bond, I felt Sera's spike of fear. She was listening. Feeling my thoughts.
Stop that, I thought at her.
I'm not doing it on purpose! Her mental voice was clear as a bell. I can't control it. Your emotions are so strong they just... flood into me.
I stopped mid-strike, nearly dropping my blade.
We could communicate. Directly. Mind to mind.
This bond was worse than I'd thought.
Get out of my head, I projected at her.
Then stop thinking so loud! She shot back. I'm trying to sleep but you're practically shouting your paranoia at me.
Despite everything, I almost smiled. She had spirit. Most people cowered when they met me. Sera argued.
Sorry, I thought more quietly. I'm not used to having someone else in my head.
Her emotions softened. Me neither. This is really weird.
Weird. That was one word for it.
I resumed my training, trying to keep my thoughts contained. But it was hard. Especially when I could feel Sera's curiosity bleeding through.
She wanted to know about me. About how I became The Reaper. About the nightmares that woke me every morning.
No, I thought firmly. Those are mine.
Fair enough. Her mental voice was sad. I have plenty of my own nightmares.
And I felt them. Flashes of her mother's execution. Seven years of hiding. The moment guards dragged Finn away.
I'm sorry, I thought before I could stop myself. About your mother. About what happened to you.
Don't. Her reply was sharp. Don't pity me. I don't need that from you.
It's not pity. I struck a training dummy hard enough to crack the wood. It's recognition. We've both lost people we loved. We've both survived things we shouldn't have.
Silence from her end of the bond. Then, quietly: Is that why you do it? Kill people, I mean. Because you survived when your parents didn't?
The question hit like a physical blow.
No one had ever asked me that. No one had ever cared enough to ask.
I kill because it's what I was made into, I thought. Because I was fifteen years old and terrified, and they gave me a choice: become their weapon or die. I chose wrong.
You chose to live, Sera thought. That's not wrong.
It is when living means becoming a monster.
You're not a monster. Through the bond, I felt her absolute certainty. Monsters don't feel guilt. They don't remember the names of the people they've killed. They don't stop executions to save strangers.
I stopped because I would have died if I'd killed your brother. Self-preservation, not heroism.
You stopped because you felt what I felt. My love for Finn. My desperation. And even though you've spent fourteen years trying not to feel anything, you couldn't ignore it.
Her words carved into me like a blade.
I sheathed my weapon and headed back to my chambers. This mental conversation was too intimate, too revealing. I needed distance, even if physical distance was impossible.
But as I walked, I felt something new through the bond.
Pain.
Sera was hurting. Not emotional pain—physical. Sharp and sudden in her right side.
I stopped in the corridor, my hand going to my own side. Nothing wrong with me, which meant—
Sera!
Her mental voice was weak. Something's wrong. I think—I think someone poisoned my food.
My blood went cold.
Who brought you food?
I don't know. A servant. She seemed nice. She said it was from the kitchens but—
The pain spiked. Through the bond, I felt Sera collapse in her cell.
Hold on, I commanded, already running. Don't fall asleep. If you die, I die, remember? So you stay awake!
I'm trying, she thought, but her mental voice was fading. Kael, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I dragged you into this—
Stop apologizing and stay conscious!
I ran faster than I'd ever run, taking stairs three at a time. Guards scattered from my path. I must have looked like death itself, racing through the halls with murder in my eyes.
Because someone had poisoned Sera.
Someone wanted her dead.
Which meant they wanted me dead too, whether they knew it or not.
I burst into the cell block. The guard on duty jumped.
"Open her cell! Now!"
He fumbled with the keys. Too slow. I grabbed them and did it myself.
Sera was on the floor, convulsing. Foam flecked her lips. Her eyes were rolling back.
"No." I dropped beside her, turning her on her side so she wouldn't choke. "No, you don't get to die. Not like this. Not when I finally—"
I stopped, not finishing that thought.
Her pulse was fading. I could feel it through the bond—her life slipping away, and mine going with it.
My own vision blurred. My heart stuttered.
We were both dying.
"RIVEN!" I roared. "GET THE HEALERS! NOW!"
But I already knew what poison this was. I could smell it—nightshade, mixed with bloodroot. Fast-acting. Deadly within minutes.
There was only one cure.
And it required blood magic.