Page 121 of The Bound Blood
I keep my mouth shut because saying anything will give him more power, and he’s not wrong. We start walking again, tension filling the space between us.
“The thread between you is too tight,” he says conversationally. “It’ll hold. For now. But someday it might snap, and then where will that leave you? Where will it leave Lindsay?”
I scoff. “Let me guess, you think you’re the solution?”
“I think I’m part of the test,” he replies easily. “Winter’s crown and all.”
I stop. He doesn’t. The fact he knows about the prophecy shouldn’t be a surprise, all of the realms have at least a version of it. And it’s the reason I’m even out here walking next to him in the first place.
Dorian turns back to face me, eyes bright as frost catching moonlight. “Relax,” he says softly. “If I meant her harm, this conversation would look very different.”
The wards hum, responding to the shift in him.
He tilts his head, studying me. “You’re excellent at sensing danger, Kael. It’s why you’re still alive. We’d make an excellent team, if you put our differences aside, don’t you think?”
My shadows tighten around me, ready to defend me.
When I don’t answer, he just shrugs. “This is inevitable, you know,” he continues, his voice almost sounding kind. “You can’t fight it. We will either be on the same side of things…or?—”
I don’t let him finish, because working with him would never work. Not with our history. “You might be here to test her, but—” I step closer, my shadows curling up between us. “You don’t get to decide what happens to her.”
Dorian lifts a single eyebrow, his gaze dropping to the shadows between us as he smiles. “No,” he agrees. “She does.”
The smile fades as quickly as it appeared.
“And that,” he says, turning away again, “is why I’m here. Waiting and watching for the right moment.”
He moves away from me, steps measured and unhurried. While I stand there and try to decide if I would get away with murdering the Fae Prince of the Winter Court.
He sighs and glances back. “Come along, Shadow Prince, today isn’t the day either of us dies.”
“Stay out of my head.”
Dorian lets out a quiet laugh, the kind that tells me immediately he didn’t actually do it this time. He just knows me well enough to land the hit anyway.
“The artifact Azrael gave you,” he says casually. “The one you use to watch Lindsay—did he explain why she can’t know about it?”
I don’t bother asking how he knows. I already know he probably read my mind the night the Veil tore. The moment I crossed half the campus without thinking. Every barrier down, every thought narrowed to a single point. If he brushed my mind then—even briefly—he would’ve seen everything.
“Prince of Shadows,” Dorian adds when I stay silent, “I’m trying tohelpyou. Your suspicion is becoming tiresome.”
“Then stop speaking in riddles,” I say flatly. “Frosty.”
He actually laughs at that, head tipping back slightly. “Frosty,” he repeats, amused. “That’s new.”
I don’t rise to it.
The humor fades from his expression. He exhales and slows his pace matching mine again.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll be clear. Only because this part matters.”
The night seems to lean in, waiting for his next words as much as I am.
“Lindsay isn’t what anyone thinks she is. Not the council. Not your headmaster.” His gaze flicks to me. “Not even you.”
“There’s a reason she can seal rifts,” he continues, voice quieter now. “And a reason her magic never comes back the same afterward.”
My hands curl slowly at my sides.
