Page 137 of The Bound Blood
The object in my pocket warms through the fabric, a humming coming from it that is audible now. Not loud, exactly, but insistent, as though it’s no longer content with being ignored.
Auron stills. His gaze snaps straight to my pocket. The air seems to thin and tighten all at once, and suddenly I’m painfully aware of the warmth pressed against my hip. The object pulses once, a burst of magic, hard enough that I flinch.
“Okay,” I mutter half to myself. “That’s new.”
Auron doesn’t speak right away. His expression is carefully neutral, but his attention doesn’t waver. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was measuring the distance between us.
I hesitate and then make a decision. Slowly, deliberately, I reach into my pocket and pull the object free. The moment it’s exposed, the sound swells around us. The markings along itssurface shimmer faintly, shifting just enough to make my eyes ache if I stare too long.
For half a second—just half—Auron’s lips twitch. That wasn’t surprise, it was recognition. The beginnings of a smile try to pull free. He smooths it away almost instantly, schooling his features into mild curiosity, but the damage is already done. My stomach dips. Maybe showing him was a bad idea. It wouldn’t surprise me, I’m full of them.
“What is that?” he asks, his tone even and casual.
Too casual.
“I was hoping you’d tell me,” I say, watching him carefully. “It reacted when I touched it.”
He steps closer, peering at it like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Looks like some kind of artifact,” he says after a beat. “Old magic. Dangerous sort, usually.”
“Do you know what those symbols mean?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
That…doesn’t feel right.
“You don’t know what it is?” I ask.
He lifts a shoulder in a faint shrug. “Bloodborn aren’t encyclopedias, Lindsay. We don’t come out of the womb knowing every artifact ever made.”
Fair. Reasonable even.
And yet…something prickles at the back of my mind, quiet but persistent. A sense I’ve learned not to ignore lately. Because if anyonewouldrecognize an ancient artifact on sight—one humming with Veil magic—it would be a Bloodborn.
I nod slowly, letting it pass for now, and slip the artifact back into my pocket. Auron’s gaze lingers a second too long before returning to my face.
“Well,” he says lightly, as if nothing just happened, “whatever it is, it’s clearly responding to you.”
Is it? I mean… yeah. I guess it is. It hadn’t done anything but hum quietly until I picked it up off Kael’s floor.
I give him a small smile that definitely doesn’t reach my eyes.
“I should—go,” I say, already moving away.
I don’t make it more than a few steps before he falls into stride beside me, unhurried, like this was always the plan.
“I’ll walk with you.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His attention is fixed forward, posture relaxed, hands clasped behind his back like we’re just two people taking a perfectly normal stroll.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask.
His head swivels toward me, brows lifting. “I’m not nice.”
I snort. “Yeah, I know. So why are you being nice to melately?”
The corner of his mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but close enough to be intentional.
“Maybe,” he says, tone dry, “I got tired of watching everyone else treat you like a problem to be managed.”
