Page 155 of Bound to the Dreadlord

But I do not leave the fortress.

Because he is here.

Every day, I feel his presence—never intrusive, never demanding. Justthere.Every night, I hear the quiet pacing of his steps. Not restless. Waiting.

He never knocks on my door. He never asks again.

His brothers are patient as well, respecting hid decision but I know that my refusal weighs on them.

They say nothing, but I see the flicker of amusement in Drathis’s expression. The sharp glint of knowing in Xalith’s eyes.

They know what I am struggling with the decision. With the mating ceremony to bind myself to Veylan.

They know that this ritual, this bond, is not about submission.

It is about choice.

The nights are long. I think of everything I have fought for, everything I have lost.

I think of the way I bled, the way I shattered, the way I was reborn into something new.

I think of Veylan’s betrayal.

I think of his loyalty.

I think of the way he held the blade that ended me. And the way he fought to bring me back.

Two weeks later,the ceremonial hall is full again.

The nobles whisper as I enter, as I step past them without hesitation, without fear.

Veylan stands at the altar, clad in black, silver lining the edges of his armor. He watches me approach, his expression unreadable.

But there is tension in his shoulders.

A flicker of something dangerous beneath the surface.

I stop before him. His brothers are still.

The High Priest waits. And then, before them all, I lift my hand.

I take his.

And I say the words that change everything.

“I choose you.”

His fingers tighten around mine, strong, unyielding.

This time, it is not him that claims me.

It is me who claims him.

The High Priest raises his hands. The words of the gods echo through the chamber, an ancient binding spell laced with magic older than any of us.

Veylan does not look away from me.

Neither do I.

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