Chapter Fourteen: What the Bond Demands
Morning crept in slowly, thin silver light slipping through the cracks in the ruined stone where they had taken shelter. Ayra woke with a sharp inhale, her body stiff, her mind heavy with fragments of memory that refused to settle quietly.
Warmth.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Not the chill of dawn or the ache in her muscles, but warmth, steady, grounding, unmistakably him. The bond pulsed softly, no longer frantic, no longer demanding, but deeply aware. Intimate in a way that made her chest tighten.
She turned her head slightly.
Alric lay beside her, one arm bent beneath his head, the other resting close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin without touching. His face looked different in sleep. Less sharp. Less like the enemy prince carved into every story she had been told.
That realization unsettled her more than the danger ever had.
Ayra shifted, and immediately the bond responded. A gentle pull. A reminder.
She froze.
Still bound. Still trapped.
Alric stirred, breath hitching as his awareness surfaced. His eyes opened slowly, dark and alert despite the early hour. The moment their gazes met, the bond tightened, subtle, possessive, unmistakable.
Neither spoke.
Words felt dangerous now.
Too much had changed.
"You're awake," he said finally, voice low, rough from sleep.
Ayra nodded. Her throat felt tight. "So are you."
Silence fell again, heavier this time. The bond hummed between them, carrying echoes of shared sensations, shared vulnerability. She hated that she could still feel the ghost of it, how close they had been, how easily the bond had erased every boundary she thought she had.
Alric sat up slowly, deliberate in every movement, as though aware that one wrong shift might send the bond spiraling again. "We shouldn't have stayed," he said. "This place isn't safe."
Ayra hugged her knees to her chest. "Neither are you."
The words came out sharper than she intended.
He didn't flinch.
"I know," he said quietly.
That was worse.
She stood abruptly, pacing the narrow space. "You don't get to look at me like that. Like this changes everything."
"It does," he replied.
She stopped. Turned. "No. It doesn't."
The bond pulsed once, slow, heavy, undeniable.
Alric rose to his feet. "The bond doesn't distinguish between moments and meaning," he said. "What happened wasn't… temporary. It deepened it."
Her stomach twisted. "So now what? I'm supposed to pretend I didn't feel everything you felt? That I don't know how easily you can"
"Claim?" he finished softly.
Ayra's jaw tightened.
He stepped closer, careful, measured. The bond drew taut, not painful, but firm. Insistent. "I didn't force you."
"No," she snapped. "The bond did."
"And yet you didn't resist."
That struck deeper than she wanted to admit.
She turned away. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Make it sound like I chose you."
Alric was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was lower. "You chose not to run."
Ayra swallowed.
Outside, the distant echo of movement carried through the ruins. Voices. Too many.
Alric's posture shifted instantly, all softness gone. "We're not alone."
The bond sharpened, adrenaline flooding through both of them at once. Ayra felt it, his readiness, his focus, the familiar pull that aligned their instincts.
She hated how natural it felt now.
They moved together without speaking, slipping through broken stone and shadowed corridors. Ayra's breath matched his without effort. Every step, every pause, every tension in his body translated through the bond like a second heartbeat.
They hid behind a collapsed wall as soldiers passed, enemy colors, searching.
Ayra pressed herself into the stone, heart pounding. Alric stood close behind her, shielding her instinctively. The bond tightened, grounding her fear, anchoring her to him in a way that made her chest ache.
"This is what it does," she whispered bitterly. "It makes me depend on you."
"It makes us survive," he corrected.
She glanced back at him. "At what cost?"
Their eyes locked.
Alric didn't answer.
When the soldiers finally moved on, the tension didn't fade. If anything, it lingered heavier than before.
They walked in silence for a long time after that.
Ayra broke it eventually. "When this war ends… what happens to us?"
Alric slowed. "If the bond remains?"
"Yes."
He looked ahead. "Then neither kingdom will accept you."
She laughed softly, humorless. "They already don't."
"And mine will call you a weakness," he continued. "A liability. Something to remove."
Ayra stopped walking. "You say that like it doesn't bother you."
He turned fully to her. "It terrifies me."
The honesty in his voice caught her off guard.
"The bond doesn't just tie our bodies," he went on. "It ties consequence. If they hurt you… I feel it. If they use you… they control me."
Her chest tightened. "So I'm a weapon now."
"Yes," he said. "And so are you."
They stood there, the weight of it settling between them.
Ayra exhaled slowly. "I never wanted power."
"I never wanted a crown."
The bond pulsed softly, almost approving.
For the first time since waking, Ayra felt something unexpected beneath the fear and resentment.
Resolve.
"Then maybe," she said quietly, "we stop letting other people decide what the bond means."
Alric studied her, something dark and intense passing through his gaze. "That path will burn everything."
"Good," she replied. "I'm tired of surviving quietly."
A slow smile touched his lips, not cruel, not soft, but dangerous. "Then stay close," he said. "The bond listens when we agree."
Ayra turned and walked forward.
This time, she didn't pull away when the bond followed.