I came back to consciousness in fragments.
The first thing I noticed was the silence—thick, unnatural, the kind that pressed against the ears after chaos had burned itself out. The second was the pain. Not sharp, not screaming, but deep and exhausting, as if every nerve in my body had been stretched thin and left to tremble in its aftermath.
I didn't open my eyes right away.
I was afraid that if I did, I'd see the Council chamber again. Blood on marble. Shadows collapsing under Lucien's magic. The sickening certainty that the assassins hadn't come for him.
They had come for me.
When I finally forced my eyes open, I wasn't in the palace hall.
I lay in a wide bed draped in dark linens, the mattress soft beneath my aching body. Tall windows lined one wall, their glass reinforced with glowing wards that pulsed faintly in rhythm with my breathing. The room smelled of clean stone and faintly of something sharp—ozone, perhaps, a lingering trace of magic burned too hot.
Lucien's presence hit me a heartbeat later.
Not visually.
Internally.
The bond hummed low and steady in my chest, no longer painful, but heavy. Like gravity had decided to root itself inside my ribs. I swallowed hard and pushed myself up onto my elbows, wincing as weakness flooded my limbs.
"So you're awake."
His voice came from the far side of the room.
Lucien stood near the window, arms folded behind his back, gaze fixed on the city beyond the glass. The early evening light caught in his dark hair, casting sharp lines across his face. He looked untouched. Unshaken.
I, on the other hand, felt like I'd been hollowed out.
"How long?" I asked, my throat raw.
"Several hours."
I exhaled slowly. "Did anyone else—"
"Three dead. Two wounded," he said without turning. "Council guards. Not you."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
I looked down at my hands. They trembled faintly, fingers curling into the sheets. I could still feel it—the moment our magic had merged, the way my power had responded to his like it had been waiting all along.
That scared me more than the assassins.
"They knew," I said quietly.
Lucien turned then, studying me with sharp attention. "Knew what?"
"That I matter," I replied. "That killing me would destabilize whatever you're protecting."
His expression darkened. "Yes."
I laughed softly, bitter and hollow. "So I went from disposable to valuable overnight."
"You were never disposable," he said.
I snapped my head up. "You watched them sentence me to death."
"I intervened."
"At the last second," I shot back. "After they'd already decided I wasn't worth saving."
Lucien held my gaze for a long moment. Then he spoke, voice lower. "If I had intervened earlier, they would have killed you quietly. In a cell. No witnesses. No resistance."
The realization settled like ice in my stomach.
"You let it happen," I whispered.
"I controlled the variables," he corrected. "And I ensured your survival."
At what cost?
The question burned in my chest, but I didn't voice it. Instead, I pushed myself further upright, ignoring the way the room tilted briefly. The bond tightened in response, steadying me before I could fall.
I hated that it helped.
"They'll try again," I said.
"Yes."
"When?"
"Soon."
I clenched my jaw. "You're not comforting."
Lucien crossed the room, stopping a few steps away. Close enough that the bond stirred, warm and alert. "Comfort would be dishonest."
I studied his face—the sharp control, the absence of visible emotion. "Do you feel it?" I asked suddenly.
He stilled. "Feel what?"
"When I'm afraid," I said. "When my magic reacts. Does it reach you?"
A pause.
"Yes," he admitted.
That knowledge shifted something between us. Made the bond feel less abstract. More dangerous.
"So when I nearly died today—"
"I felt it," he said quietly.
For the first time since meeting him, Lucien looked… strained. Just for a moment. Like someone who'd carried too much weight for too long and was finally aware of it.
I looked away.
"I didn't ask for this," I said.
"I know."
"I didn't ask to be important."
"No one ever does."
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
Eventually, Lucien straightened. "You need to understand what today changed."
I met his gaze. "Tell me."
"You are no longer just a stabilizer," he said. "You are a target. Every faction that opposes the Empire will come for you. Every noble who fears losing power will watch you. Closely."
"And the people who wanted me dead yesterday?" I asked. "What do they think now?"
"They think you're mine."
The word sent a shiver down my spine.
"I don't belong to you."
"No," Lucien agreed. "But they believe you do. And belief is often more dangerous than truth."
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing slowly. My knees wobbled, but I stayed upright. "Then teach me."
Lucien raised a brow. "Teach you what?"
"How to survive," I said. "How to control this magic. How to stop being a liability."
His gaze sharpened. "Training will not be gentle."
"I'm not gentle," I replied. "I'm desperate."
That earned me a long look. Then a nod.
"Tomorrow," he said. "You rest tonight."
"I don't want to rest."
"You need to," he countered. "If you push yourself now, the bond will retaliate."
"Against me?"
"Against both of us."
I froze. "That's new."
"You're learning," he said dryly.
I let out a slow breath and sank back onto the bed, exhaustion finally claiming its due. "Lucien," I said softly.
He paused at the door.
"If they try to kill me again," I said, "and you have to choose—"
"I won't," he interrupted.
I looked up at him.
"The bond doesn't allow it," he continued. "And neither do I."
Then he left, the door sealing quietly behind him.
I lay back against the pillows, staring at the warded ceiling. My body ached. My magic felt stretched thin but alive, coiled tightly beneath my skin.
They had tried to erase me.
Instead, they had marked me.
And for the first time in my life, survival wasn't just instinct.
It was war.
Sleep didn't come easily.
Every time I closed my eyes, my magic stirred restlessly, brushing against the edges of the bond like a question without an answer. The wards around the room pulsed softly, responding not just to my presence—but to his.
Lucien wasn't here.
And yet, I could feel him.
Not as a thought or a memory, but as a constant awareness, distant yet undeniable. It was like knowing someone stood on the other side of a wall—silent, unmoving, but listening.
The realization unsettled me.
I rolled onto my side, staring at the window where the city lights flickered beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, people were whispering my name. Rewriting my story in their heads. Condemned mage. Imperial asset. Draven's weapon.
None of it was me.
"I won't disappear," I murmured to the empty room.
The bond responded—not with pain, but with a subtle tightening, as if acknowledging the vow. My magic shifted, settling deeper, quieter. For the first time since the execution platform, it didn't feel like chaos clawing to escape.
It felt… focused.
That terrified me.
Because chaos had always been mine. It was the only thing I'd ever controlled by refusing to tame it. And now, something inside me was changing. Aligning.
Not breaking.
I pressed a hand to my chest, breathing slowly. "I'm still me," I whispered. "No matter what they think."
The bond didn't argue.
Somewhere beyond the wards, I sensed movement—Lucien, pacing, restless in a way he'd never show openly. The awareness flickered, then steadied again.
He was guarding me.
Not because he wanted to.
Because the Empire demanded it.
And because, whether either of us liked it or not, our lives were no longer separate paths.
Tomorrow, training would begin.
Tomorrow, they would test how far they could push me.
But tonight, in the quiet aftermath of survival, I made myself a promise:
If they wanted a weapon, they would learn the difference between control and consequence.
And if Lucien Draven thought he could shape me without being changed in return—
He was about to learn how dangerous survival could be.