Riven's POV

“Stand down!” the king shouted. “He won’t harm her, he can’t. The bond forbids it.”

Everything in me wanted to tear his throat out.

I was crouched over her. Smoke stung my eyes, dust burned my tongue, and broken chains hissed at my wrists.

I didn’t touch her. Not because of the bond. Because if I put my palm on her chest and didn’t feel breath, I would end the world in this room and nothing would stop me. I waited. Counted. There, faint, uneven, a bird beating against a window. Alive.

Guards held their half-steps and the king watched me, telling himself a story where he still ruled. The priests gathered themselves from the floor, stunned and bleeding.

“She lives,” I said, to no one, to myself, to the thing inside me that had woken. The words came out rough, too loud in the ruined hall.

“Of course she lives,” Haldor said, relief laced into his cruelty. “The gods enjoy my mercy.”

“Majesty,” one of the priests rasped, veil soaked red at the mouth. “The… the bond. It’s complete.” He didn’t look at me. He looked at her. “He can’t be chained again. Not like before. But—” He swallowed. “We can still hold the girl.”

Something very old reared up in me at that. I rose from my crouch and six spears all ticked up a finger-width in reflex.

“Hold her,” I said. “Try.”

“Temper,” Haldor murmured, amused again. He lifted his goblet and drank. “You’ve done me a service this morning, beast. I hoped my priests were as clever as their fees. It seems I have something better than clever. I have you.”

“I will kill you,” I told him. Simple, even. Not loud.

“You won’t,” he said, voice suddenly bright with certainty. “Because if you die, she dies. And if she dies, you will do nothing that matters ever again. Isn’t that right, priest?”

The oldest one bowed his head. “The curse has evolved, Your Majesty. The bond is… mutualized.” He said the last word like it tasted wrong. “If his heart stops, hers will stop. If hers stops, his...”

Haldor clapped once, soft. “You see? The gods love me.” He gestured lazily. “Put your spears down. All of you. If he was going to tear me open, he’d have done it when she fell.”

The line of iron sagged. I looked down at the girl. She looked small on the huge floor, her hair stuck to her cheek. The mark at her neck was an angry halo, pulsing in time with mine.

“Rise,” the king said to me. “You’ve earned a word.”

“I’m already standing.”

“A different word, then.” He drifted a step closer. “Listen well, Alpha.” His voice cooled. “You will fight for me again. The old oaths are shiny with dust, but they still shine. The bond protects her, and through her, I control you. We will make this court the safest in the region. Enemies will learn to pray to the crown.”

I could see the map to kill him, but I also saw her on the floor, felt the hollow that would open in me. I swallowed that map until bile stung my mouth.

“If you must have me fight,” I said, “then you take her from this place. No palace chains.” I flexed my wrists. “No runes.” I looked at her. “She does not scrub your floors again. She does not stand in your hall to be struck for your boredom. She’s done with the servants’ wing.”

The king’s mouth twitched. Calculation slid across his face.

“You think you set conditions,” he said. “You’ve forgotten whose house this is.”

I held his gaze. “You’ve forgotten who can’t die while I’m alive.”

The room breathed that line in and out. Haldor broke first. He clicked his tongue. “Very well,” he said lightly. “No palace chains. The girl will not serve in my court.” His eyes sharpened. “But she will serve. The bond demands it. She will live where you live, eat when you eat, sleep where the beasts sleep. She is your keeper, your link… your leash.”

He liked the word.

“You won’t hold her in a cell,” I said.

“No,” he said. “She will have a pallet by your fire.” He tilted his head. “A kindness, beast. You should thank me for it.”

I took a step toward him.

“If you send a hand to drag her where she doesn’t want to go, I will rip it off at the shoulder, then I will hand it back to you and ask whether it was worth the reach.”

His smile cracked. “You will do nothing without my leave.”

I looked at Lyra again. “I will do nothing that kills her,” I said. “You have that much of me.”

An advisor cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, we should remove them from the hall. The pillars...” He glanced up at a long crack. “We must assess the damage.”

“Take them,” Haldor said, bored now. “Take him to the old barracks across the river. Post twenty men at the gate and ten at the door. No chains. He thinks that will make him a wolf again.” He smirked. “The girl goes with him. If he fails, she dies. If she runs, he dies. Balance. The gods love balance.”

The priests made small noises of agreement.

I slid my arms under Lyra and lifted her. She weighed less than the chains had. The way her head fell against my shoulder scattered the room’s edges.

“Careful,” one of the guards said reflexively.

I ignored him and moved. The chain remnants clinked against my wrists.

“Do you kneel when I pass?” I asked the king as I went by. I did not look at him. “Or do you make men do it for you so you remember how it felt?”

I crossed the yard with the girl in my arms and a ring of guards around us. At the far arch the captain raised a hand. “Wagon,” he called. “Blankets. Healers will meet at the ford.” He glanced at me. “The road is clear.”

“It had better be,” I said.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

The river noise grew louder. I laid Lyra on rough boards and stepped back.

“Her pulse?” the healer asked without looking up.

I closed my eyes. “Weak. Steady.”

She nodded. “Good.” “Stay close,” the healer told me.

A captain pointed to a black horse. “Yours,” he said. “The king says no chains.” “We’ll ride on either side.”

“I don’t need your escort,” I said.

“We do,” he said.

I took the reins. The horse smelled of sweat and smoke. I looked at Lyra one last time. The mark at her throat had settled to a dull glow.

“Move,” the captain shouted, and the column began to.

I didn’t look back at the hall. I set my heels to the horse and the gate gave a tired metal groan as it opened for us.

I rode ahead of the wagon, close enough to hear each small breath behind me and far enough that no man mistook me for a tame thing.

I told myself she didn’t matter. The curse had simply found a new shape. But the lie burned. She was the weapon now. The king’s new toy. My new weakness. I hated the way the bond hummed whenever her heart stumbled. I had spent years mastering the beast inside me, and in one night, she had undone all of it by existing.

I rode until the forest closed in around the road, tall pines blotting out the light. The air changed, cleaner, quieter. The driver slowed the wagon near a clearing by the river.

“Orders,” he called nervously. “We make camp here until dawn.”

I dismounted. I walked to the back of the wagon. The guards stiffened.

“She needs air,” I said.

I looked at them until the captain nodded and stepped back. I lifted the latch.

She was still asleep. Her face was pale, a faint sheen of sweat along her throat. The mark at her neck glowed softly in the dark, my mark.

I crouched beside her and listened. The rhythm of her heart was uneven, fragile. The curse had tied us so tightly I could feel her body through mine. I should have felt powerful. I felt sick.

One of the guards cleared his throat. “The king says she’s your responsibility now. If she dies...”

“She won’t.”

“He says the priests will come tomorrow to… observe.”

“Tell them to bring shovels.”

He paled. “For her?”

“For them.”

He swallowed and left.

I leaned against the wagon’s frame. The wagon shifted. She stirred. I went still.

Her eyes fluttered open, then focused, and she shrank back a little.

“Don’t,” I said quietly. “You’ll reopen the wound.”

She stopped moving. Her voice was hoarse. “Where are we?”

“Leaving.”

“Leaving where?”

“The palace.”

Her lips parted. “The king...” she began.

“Still breathes,” I said. “For now.”

Her hand went to her neck. “And this?”

I looked away. “That keeps us both alive.”

She nodded slowly. “Then I suppose I should thank you for not letting him kill me.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t do it for you.” I said even though I knew it was a lie.

That silenced her. She lay back down.