Page 138 of The Bound Blood
That…wasn’t what I expected.
“And maybe,” he continues smoothly, “I think you may have had a very bad morning, and I’m not interested in making it worse.”
We walk in silence for a few steps, the sound of our boots echoing softly down the corridor.
I side-eye him. “You’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”
He lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “Absolutely not.”
“Then why?”
Auron finally looks at me fully, his expression unreadable in that maddening, aristocratic way he has.
“Because,” he says, measured and calm, “you’re standing at the edge of something, whether you realize it or not. And I’d rather be nearby when you decide which way to step.”
My fingers curl inside my jacket pockets. “That sounds ominous,” I tell him.
“Honest,” he corrects lightly.
We reach the end of the corridor, and I pause…he’s at least made me feel a little better, even if he isn’t full of warm, fuzzy emotions. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
I shrug, not really having words for what I’m thanking him for.
“You’re welcome. Also, you can relax around me,” he adds, almost amused. “If I were going to betray you, I wouldn’t warn you first.”
I shoot him a look. “That’s really not reassuring.”
He smirks—properly this time, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
And somehow, that makes me trust him just a little more than I should.
FORTY-EIGHT
LINDSAY
I shouldn’t feelthis calm.
That’s the thought that keeps circling as we walk—side by side, unhurried—through corridors I’ve started to recognize by instinct instead of memory. The artifact rests warm and steady in my pocket, no longer humming, no longer demanding.
Just… present.
Like it’s content to wait.
Auron doesn’t crowd me or steer. He matches my pace without comment, hands clasped behind his back as though we’re discussing coursework instead of standing on the edge of something that feels bigger than either of us.
“This way’s quieter,” he says, gesturing ahead.
I nod, because quiet sounds good. Quiet sounds like breathing room. Like a moment where no one is watching me to see what I’ll do next.
We turn a corner.
Then another.
The stone beneath our feet changes subtly—smoother somehow, less worn. The sconces along the walls burn lower here, the light dimmer, casting longer shadows that don’t quite behave the way I expect them to, sort of like Kael’s shadows.
The air cools as we move, thinning just enough that I notice. The Veil presses closer here—not visibly or dramatically. Just a subtle awareness at the back of my skull, like standing too close to a high place.
