Lira couldn't stop shaking.
Not from fear — though that was definitely present — but from the strange, electric hum vibrating under her skin. Ever since Prince Thorne had touched her chin in the throne room, something had shifted inside her. It felt like warm shadows were curling through her veins, whispering secrets she didn't want to hear.
She was currently locked in a luxurious prison.
The chamber they had thrown her into was absurdly beautiful: black silk drapes, glowing violet runes carved into obsidian walls, and a massive bed piled with pillows that looked softer than anything she'd ever touched in the mortal slums. A single tall window overlooked the eternal twilight of Elyndor, where floating lanterns drifted like lost stars.
Lira paced barefoot across the cool floor, still wearing the braided-rope silk dress. The chains were gone, but she could still feel the ghost of them on her wrists.
The door opened without warning.
Thorne stepped inside, filling the doorway with his tall frame. He had removed the heavy outer coat, leaving him in a fitted black shirt that revealed the powerful lines of his shoulders and chest. His long black hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it.
He looked dangerously relaxed.
"Comfortable?" he asked, voice low and mocking.
Lira crossed her arms. "I've had better prisons. At least the rats in the mortal world don't pretend to be elegant."
Thorne's lips twitched. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, studying her with those piercing violet eyes.
"You're angry," he observed. "Good. Anger keeps you alive in my court."
"I'm not your anything," Lira snapped. "You kidnapped me, dressed me up like a doll, and now you expect me to help you win your little power game?"
Thorne pushed off the door and walked toward her slowly. With every step, the strange warmth in her chest grew stronger.
"You still don't understand," he said quietly. "When you touched the Shadow Crown fragment, it didn't just mark you as a thief. It chose you. And because I am its rightful guardian… it boundus."
He stopped barely a foot away from her.
Lira's breath hitched. She could feel it now — a thin, invisible thread stretching between them. Every time Thorne moved, she felt an echo in her own body. His calm confidence. The restrained power. And something darker… hunger.
"Stop that," she whispered.
"Stop what?"
"Whatever you're doing. I can feel you."
Thorne's eyes darkened with satisfaction.
"The bond is waking up. Soon you'll feel my emotions. My pain. My… desires." His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second. "And I'll feel yours."
Lira's cheeks burned. She stepped back until her spine hit the cool obsidian wall.
"I didn't ask for this," she said, voice trembling with anger and something else she refused to name. "I just wanted to save my sister."
"And you still can," Thorne replied, closing the distance again. He placed one hand on the wall beside her head, caging her in without touching her. "Compete in the trials with me. Help me win. When I take the throne, I'll give you all the shadow essence you need. Your sister will live."
Lira stared up at him, heart racing.
"Why me?" she asked. "There must be other Veil Walkers."
"There aren't," Thorne said simply. "You're the only one alive in centuries who can walk both worlds so cleanly. The only one the Crown fragment responded to."
His free hand rose, hovering near her cheek.
"Tell me, Lira… when you crossed the Veil, did it feel like coming home?"
The question caught her off guard. Because yes — a small, secret part of her had always felt the pull. The mortal world had never quite fit. But admitting that felt like surrender.
"I'm not your weapon," she said instead, lifting her chin defiantly.
Thorne leaned closer, until their faces were only inches apart. His breath brushed her skin, carrying the scent of night-blooming roses and raw power.
"Not yet," he murmured. "But you will be."
Suddenly, a sharp pulse shot through the bond.
Lira gasped as a wave of Thorne's emotions crashed into her — cold determination, centuries of loneliness, and a hot, possessive hunger that made her knees weak.
Thorne's eyes widened slightly. He felt it too.
For one suspended moment, they simply stared at each other, breathing hard.
Then Lira shoved at his chest. "Get out."
Thorne didn't move at first. His gaze lingered on her flushed face, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pink hair spilled over her shoulders.
"Rest tonight," he said finally, stepping back. "Tomorrow, training begins. You'll need to learn how to control the bond… before it controls you."
He turned toward the door, then paused.
"One more thing, little thief."
He looked back at her over his shoulder, violet eyes gleaming.
"Try to run. I dare you."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Lira slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, pressing a hand to her racing heart.
The shadows in the room seemed to pulse in time with her pulse.
And somewhere deep inside her, the bond whispered:
He's already inside your veins.