Page 53 of The Bound Blood
A quiet knock breaks the silence.
“Linds?” Tamsin’s voice is muffled but unmistakable. “I’ve got your clothes. Leaving them on the sink.”
I hear the soft creak of the door easing open—just enough to slide the bundle of fabric onto the marble counter—and then closing again.
“Thanks,” I call back.
I finish rinsing, then wrap one of Kael’s towels around myself, pausing at the mirror. I look a little less wrecked. Still exhausted. Still haunted. But less like a girl on the edge of breaking.
I reach for the clothes, fingers brushing soft fabric. Black. Sharp lines. Sleek, formal. The kind of outfit someone wears when they’re ready to make the Council regreteverything.
Good.
Because they should.
The chamber smellslike ozone and regret.
It’s colder than I remember. Or maybe that’s just me—wrapped in Kael’s scent, cloaked in clean clothes that somehow make me look like I know what I’m doing. Tamsin found me something that fit me perfectly, all black with deep green stitching that glints faintly in the low light. Like magic woven right into the fabric, fitting me like armor.
I stand just behind the boys, Kael at my side, silent and unreadable. Raiden hovers slightly in front of me—positioned like a shield. Nolan is closer than usual, one hand brushing mine when he thinks I won’t notice. I do. I let it linger.
The Council is already seated when we walk in, and this time, there are no empty chairs.
Headmaster Veyne stands at the head of the long stone table, hands clasped behind his back. His jaw is tight, eyes like stone as he surveys the group. All twelve of them. Even Professor Marris is here now, her expression unreadable.
“Lindsay Blake,” the Headmaster says, voice low and calm. “We owe you an apology.”
I blink. That… was not what I expected.
“We acted without unity. Without care. And without waiting for the full Council to return,” he continues, cutting a sharp glance at three members who suddenly find the stonework fascinating. “Attempting to bind a student without consent—withoutunderstanding—was a grievous misjudgment. One that could have cost us all.”
“You don’t say,” Tamsin mutters beside me, loud enough to echo.
Veyne doesn’t flinch. “It’s clear now that Lindsay’s power is not only unique—it is critical. To the Veil. To the school. Possibly to more than that. Our job is no longer to contain it. But tosupportit.”
“Funny,” I say, folding my arms. “I don’t remember that being part of my syllabus.”
Raiden huffs beside me. “She risked everything toprotectthe Veil. You tried to punish her for it.”
“She nearly died,” Nolan adds, his voice quieter but no less steady. “You don’t get to pretend this didn’t happen.”
Kael says nothing. But I feel his magic, tight and coiled beside mine.
Veyne nods once, the lines of his face softening. “You’re right. All of you.”
That shuts the room up.
He turns to me again. “Lindsay… this academy failed you. But I would ask that you give us the chance to do better. Let us help you hone this power instead of hiding it. You don’t need to face it alone.”
My heart twists. Part of me wants to scream. Another part—older, more tired—just wants to rest.
“And if I say no?” I ask, lifting my chin. “If I decide I’ve had enough of magical politics and near-death bonding rituals?”
“Then we let you go,” Professor Marris says, finally speaking. “But I don’t think you will.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not done. And because there are people here who will stand beside you, no matter what. And you want toknow what you are and what you’re capable of. You can learn that here.”
