Evren didn't sleep that night.
His chest ached. Not physically—magically. Like the bond was pressing in, demanding something he couldn't name. Every breath felt wrong. Every heartbeat felt like Kaelion's.
He paced the room, fingers twitching with stray sparks of power. His magic was restless. Hungry. He hated it.
He hated him.
Kaelion.
And yet—
The pull was unbearable.
By dawn, Evren gave in and stormed toward the prince's chamber. He didn't knock.
Kaelion was awake, sitting by the window, half-dressed, bathed in firelight and shadow. He didn't look surprised.
"You feel it too," Kaelion said quietly.
Evren nodded, jaw tight. "It hurts."
Kaelion stood. The air shifted, charged with something ancient and intimate. "Then stop fighting it."
Evren's laugh was bitter. "You think I want this?"
"No," Kaelion said, stepping closer. "But we're past wanting. The bond chooses. Not us."
Evren's breath caught. Kaelion's presence was magnetic—annoying and overwhelming and—
Warm.
"I don't trust you," Evren said, voice barely above a whisper.
Kaelion's eyes softened. Just a little. "Good. Keep your blade sharp. But stay alive. I need you for this bond to work."
Evren's heart raced for a reason that had nothing to do with magic.
Then the door slammed open.
Sir Alder Thorne—Blackspire's steward—was out of breath, cloak dusted with snow. "Your Highness, a scout just returned. Someone breached the western ridge."
Kaelion's expression turned cold. "Who?"
"We don't know. But they left a mark on the gate."
Kaelion and Evren followed Sir Alder to the outer wall. The snow was painted with a single sigil—carved deep and glowing faintly red.
Evren felt his magic recoil.
It wasn't just a threat.
It was a message.
Therin appeared behind them, his tone casual. "Seems the old kingdom hasn't forgotten about you two."
Evren turned to Kaelion, voice low. "What is that?"
Kaelion's jaw clenched. "It's a hunter's mark."
Evren frowned. "So?"
Kaelion looked at him, eyes shadowed.
"It means someone's been paid to kill us both."
They didn't speak on the walk back to the war room. The mark on the gate glowed behind their eyes, humming like a curse.
Inside, the fire crackled. Maps were spread across the table, and Therin leaned over them, tracing borders with a lazy finger. Sir Alder stood stiffly in the corner, arms crossed.
"We should assume they've already crossed the mountain," Therin said. "Hunters don't leave warnings unless they want to rattle you."
Evren stared at the mark burned into his memory. "It worked."
Kaelion didn't look at him. "They want to split us up. Confuse the bond."
Sir Alder's voice was grim. "Should we fortify the gates?"
"No," Kaelion said. "We bait them."
Evren spun toward him. "What?"
Kaelion's eyes finally met his. "They're after us. We make them think they've caught us off guard. Then we strike first."
"You mean use us as live bait?"
Kaelion's smirk was sharp. "Don't tell me you're scared, bonded one."
Evren's magic sparked again, irritated. "I'm not scared. I just don't like being a trap."
Therin chuckled. "That makes two of us."
Kaelion stepped closer to Evren. Too close. "If the bond means anything, we'll feel them before they reach us."
Evren glared at him. "And if it doesn't?"
Kaelion's voice dropped. "Then we burn them down together."
The way he said it—so certain, so feral—Evren didn't know whether to hate him or fall into him.
Before he could think too much, the candles flickered violently. The air thickened.
Sir Alder straightened. "Magic surge—north tower."
Kaelion was already moving. "They're here."
The northern tower was silent—but wrong.
Evren felt it before he saw it. The air was dense, tinged with something metallic. Magic burned cold across his skin, crawling beneath his collar like a warning.
Kaelion unsheathed his blade. "Stay behind me."
Evren shoved past him. "You wish."
They reached the top landing. A single guard lay slumped against the wall, eyes wide with shock, mouth frozen mid-breath. No blood. Just a smoking line across his throat—clean. Precise.
Kaelion's jaw tightened. "Silent blade."
Evren's magic surged. "They're close."
The moment he said it, the window exploded.
Glass and snow rained in. A shadow darted through the blast—tall, masked, and fast. They barely saw it before the hunter struck.
Kaelion blocked the blade with his own, steel sparking. The masked assassin didn't flinch, dancing around him with inhuman speed.
Evren raised his hand—his magic formed a bright barrier of flame that cut the assassin off mid-lunge. They turned sharply, eyes locking with Evren's through the mask.
He felt it again. The pull of the bond. It surged between him and Kaelion like lightning, snapping in the air.
"Do it!" Kaelion shouted.
Evren didn't need to be told twice. He focused, reached out through the bond, connected. Their magic entwined in mid-air—flame and shadow swirling into something more.
The assassin lunged again—this time toward Evren.
Kaelion moved faster than Evren had ever seen. One heartbeat later, the assassin's blade stopped inches from Evren's face. Kaelion's hand was around their wrist, his other slicing clean across their side.
The hunter staggered.
Evren drove a burst of fire into their chest.
They collapsed in smoke and ash.
Silence fell.
Evren was breathing hard, chest heaving. Kaelion stood close—too close again.
"That was reckless," Kaelion said, his voice low, dark.
"You needed me," Evren replied, eyes burning. "Just admit it."
Kaelion's gaze dropped to his lips for a moment too long.
"I always need you."
The assassin's body was gone—reduced to scorched fragments and smoke. But the aftermath lingered.
Evren slumped against the wall, breath unsteady. His arms were shaking—not from fear, but from burnout. His magic had flared too bright, too fast. He hadn't even realized it.
Kaelion crouched beside him. "You're overheating."
"No shit," Evren snapped, trying to get up. His knees gave.
Kaelion caught him.
The contact sent a jolt through them both—magic reacting instinctively, reaching out, entwining.
Evren froze, caught in the closeness. Kaelion's arm was around his waist, the other gripping his shoulder. Their foreheads nearly touched.
"You're burning up," Kaelion said, voice barely a whisper. "The bond's reacting… You're not used to channeling through it."
Evren tried to speak but his words tangled in his throat. Kaelion's eyes weren't their usual arrogant gold—they were worried.
"We have to cool your core down," Kaelion said. "Come with me."
"I can walk."
"No, you can't."
Kaelion didn't wait for an argument—he swept Evren up in his arms.
"What the hell are you—!"
"You'll pass out before you get down the stairs, don't flatter yourself."
Evren should've cursed him. Fought him. Anything.
But all he could do was stare up at the royal bastard who carried him like he was something precious.
---
Kaelion set him down in a private chamber near the hot springs that ran beneath the castle. Steam curled around them.
Evren shivered.
Kaelion knelt beside the edge of the water, dipping a hand in. "This spring channels magic. It'll balance your flow."
Evren hesitated. "So we're… bathing together now?"
Kaelion smirked. "Unless you want to faint again."
Evren gave him the middle finger—then slowly peeled off his tunic.
He slid into the water, hissing as warmth enveloped him. Kaelion followed, sinking into the opposite end—but even now, the bond pulled them closer.
Steam rose. Silence stretched.
Then, quietly, Kaelion said, "When you almost got hit—I felt it. In my chest. Like a knife."
Evren blinked. "That's the bond."
Kaelion looked at him through the mist. "No. That was me."