Page 156 of Bound to the Dreadlord

A knife is placed in my palm. Another in his.

Blood must be given.

Power must be shared.

We cut.

We press our hands together, and the moment our blood mingles, the world ignites.

Flames erupt along the altar, magic surging through my veins, through his, through the bond that has been waiting for this moment.

I feel him.

Inside me, around me, tangled in every breath I take.

The room vanishes.

There is only him.

Only us.

The bond settles.

It is permanent.

Veylan releases a breath, and I see something raw in his expression.

Something open and mine.

I stand taller.

Stronger.

Not as his queen. Not as his captive.

But as his equal.

The ancient words fade into silence. The flames along the altar recede, leaving only the soft glow of torchlight and thescent of mingled blood and magic. Around us, the High Court begins to empty, murmurs trailing behind the departing nobles. Still, I don’t move. Neither does he. Veylan’s hand remains in mine, his eyes locked to mine like I am the only truth left in this world. The High Priest lowers his head in reverence, then turns away, giving us space. His brothers linger at the edges, watching—but they, too, fade into shadow.

He finally steps toward me,his voice low. “Come.”

And I do.

Through the obsidian hallways, through the silence that wraps around us like a second skin, we walk.

Side by side.

No words spoken.None needed.

Not until thedoors to his chambers close behind us… and the rest of the world falls away.

59

VEYLAN

The firelight casts flickering shadows across the stone walls of my chambers. The smell of burning wood and faint traces of blood still linger in the air. The remnants of the ritual cling to my skin, to my soul.

But nothing is as consuming as the woman standing before me.

---