Chapter 3 – Bound in Name

The bond demanded proximity. The people demanded blood.

They walked back to their suite in absolute silence, but every step rang loud as a scream in Lira's skull.

Kael moved like a storm bottled in glass—precise, pressurized, dangerous. She walked three paces behind him, not because she wanted to, but because it was easier to look at his back than his face.

Her chest still ached where the bond had flared. That heat under her skin hadn't faded since the Rite. It pulsed—like a heartbeat, like it belonged to someone else.

The hallway was empty as they reached their door. Kael didn't wait for her. He unlocked it with a flick of his fingers, shadows coiling subtly around the lock. The magic whispered to itself before falling still.

Inside, the air felt thicker.

He shut the door behind them and didn't bother to face her. Instead, he pulled off his gloves one finger at a time and dropped them neatly on the desk.

Lira folded her arms. "Are you going to keep ignoring me, or are we doing this like adults?"

Kael turned slowly. "You want to be treated like an adult?" His voice was soft, contemptuous. "Fine. Let's be adults."

He crossed the room in three strides, stopping too close. Lira didn't back up.

"This bond shouldn't exist," he said. "Your bloodline doesn't match mine. Your crest is wrong. You're lying about something—whether it's your name, your mark, or your entire face, I don't care. The moment they find the flaw in your records, they'll burn you for treason."

"I didn't choose this."

"You didn't stop it, either."

"I collapsed in front of a hundred people. What did you expect me to do, sprint out of the ring screaming 'oops'?"

Kael's eyes narrowed. "You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious," she said flatly. "You're just used to people laughing before they're told."

That hit. A muscle twitched along his jaw.

Good.

She was trembling, but she refused to let it show. If he saw weakness, he'd exploit it. That much, she understood instinctively. Kael Nightshade didn't do compassion. He did control. And right now, she was a crack in his immaculate life.

He finally stepped back, pace slow and deliberate. "The bond is real. Which means we're stuck. For now."

She exhaled through her nose. "Glad you're catching up."

He opened his wardrobe and selected a different jacket—one lined with reinforced leather and embedded with faint runes. Combat attire.

"Where are you going?"

"Combat diagnostics. They want to measure the bond's effect on performance." He glanced at her. "You're coming."

"No one said—"

"You're bonded to me. If I leave the perimeter, you feel it. If I push magic without you, you collapse. You really want to risk that just to stay in bed?"

Lira gritted her teeth.

He smirked faintly. "Thought so."

The training arena was open-air, oval-shaped, and surrounded by enchantments designed to absorb stray magic. Stone bleachers ringed the perimeter, mostly empty except for a few instructors and curious upper-years whispering behind glamor veils.

Kael stood in the center ring, stretching his arms with controlled indifference. He looked like he was sculpted from ice and posture drills. Lira hovered at the edge, arms crossed, trying not to show how hard her heart was pounding.

"Combat diagnostics," a stern instructor said, approaching with a crystal tablet. "We'll start with a resonance flare. He channels a spell, you support or resist. Simple test."

"What if I fail?" she asked.

The instructor didn't look up. "Then he drains you dry. Don't fail."

Great.

Kael turned toward her. "Try to keep up."

He lifted one hand. Shadows coiled from his palm like ribbons, curling along the floor, thickening.

Lira felt it instantly—the pull.

The bond hummed, magic bleeding across the link into her chest. Not painful, not yet. Just heavy. Like her breath was being shared.

She gritted her teeth and forced her feet forward, stepping into the ring.

The moment her boots crossed the line, the bond surged.

Kael's power expanded in a wave, and she felt it pouring through the invisible thread that connected them. Her legs nearly gave out.

"Stabilize," the instructor barked.

Lira shut her eyes. Reached for it. The link.

It wasn't like controlling her own magic—it was like tuning an instrument she didn't know she was holding. Kael's magic was cold, refined, cruelly sharp.

But something in her own power answered it.

The shadows hesitated—then shifted. Bent.

Kael's brow twitched in surprise.

Lira didn't smile, but she might have if she weren't focused on not passing out.

The instructor looked between them, notes scribbling themselves across the floating tablet.

"Unnatural synchronization. Untrained subject responding to advanced-grade magic with minimal delay. Fascinating."

Kael dropped his hand. The shadows dissipated. Lira gasped.

"Again," the instructor ordered.

Kael raised a brow. "She'll faint."

"I'm fine," Lira bit out.

His voice dropped an octave, just for her. "Prove it."

She did.

Barely.

They returned to their suite in silence again, but this time it was a different kind. Less rage. More calculation.

Lira dragged herself to the desk chair and slumped into it, sweat soaking her collar.

Kael poured a glass of water and set it beside her without a word.

She blinked at it. "You poisoned this?"

"Wouldn't be that obvious."

She sipped it anyway.

After a long pause, she said quietly, "I'm not from Briarhelm."

He didn't react. Just leaned against the wardrobe, arms folded. Waiting.

"I never even knew what that was until Oris shoved the crest at me. I'm not noble. I'm not anything. I grew up stealing food from shrines and pretending I could read magic circles. This is all a lie."

He studied her. Not surprised. Not shocked.

"You're not the first fraud they've let in."

"But I might be the first to fake a binding."

That made him tilt his head. "So you did fake it?"

"I didn't say that."

His expression tightened. "Then what are you?"

She looked at her hands.

The Mark burned, just a little.

"I don't know."

He didn't speak for a while.

Then, finally: "If you sabotage me, I will end you. Bond or no bond."

"I'm not suicidal."

"Good."

Another long silence.

Lira stood slowly, legs trembling but steady. "We have training again tomorrow?"

He nodded once. "Every morning. Until they stop testing us."

She turned toward the bed, hesitated.

Then looked back at him.

"Don't murder me in my sleep."

"I'd make it look like an accident."

A beat.

Then, to her shock, his mouth twitched. Just barely. A ghost of something that almost could've been a smile if it had been born under different circumstances.

She turned away before he could take it back.