Auren caught me when I fell. Carried me through corridors I couldn’t see. Stayed at my bedside through the night. His frost wrapped around my fire and didn’t try to extinguish it—just held it. Gave me something to anchor against.
He hates what I represent. But he saved me anyway.
The cold isn’t cruelty,Aisling said.It’s how he keeps people alive.
I close my eyes and try to quiet my mind. Tomorrow, training. Tomorrow, the first step toward learning to fight back. Tomorrow, I begin becoming something Morrigan and Ulrik never expected.
A weapon they can’t control.
Sleep comes slowly, dragging me down into darkness that smells like frost and pine. The last thing I see before unconsciousness takes me is the memory of golden depths—calculating, yes. Cold, certainly. But watching. Always watching.
Seeing threats. Seeing patterns. Seeing me.
He caught me when I fell.
I hold onto that thought as I sink into dreams. It’s not trust or acceptance or anything close to warmth.
But it’s a crack in the ice.
And right now, that’s enough.
SIX
AUREN
I’ve been in the library since before dawn.
The texts spread across my worktable represent four hundred years of accumulated research on the Dominion Relics—scrolls so old, they crumble at the edges, bound volumes in languages that haven’t been spoken in centuries, stone tablets etched with diagrams that make my head ache if I study them too long. I know every text in this collection. Know exactly where each one belongs on the floor-to-ceiling shelves that surround me. Know which alcoves hold the most sensitive materials and which preservation wards need reinforcing.
The library is my domain. Temperature and humidity precisely controlled. Enchanted lights providing perfect illumination without damaging old paper. The smell of dust and leather permeates everything, threaded with the faint ozone crackle of preservation magic.
I know this space the way I know my own breath. And right now, I’m using it to avoid thinking about the woman sleeping four corridors away.
The Dominion Crown. I force my attention back to the text in front of me—a treatise on Relic amplification written by a scholar who died before the first Brotherhood fortress wasbuilt. The Crown is more powerful than the other three Relics combined. That much I already knew. What I didn’t know, what these texts are revealing in devastating detail, is the scope of what it can do in the hands of someone who can actually wield it.
Amplification a hundredfold. Fire-Bringer flame that could level mountains. Witch magic that could reshape reality itself. Power without apparent limit, constrained only by the wielder’s ability to channel it without burning out.
And Tamsin doesn’t just seal the Crown. She can open it. Wield it. Control powers that would destroy anyone else.
I set the text down and press my fingers against my temples. The tactical implications are staggering. If we can train her properly—if she can learn to harness that power without losing herself to it—she becomes the most significant military asset in the known world. A weapon that could end the Shadow Clan threat permanently.
If we fail, if Morrigan or Ulrik gets their hands on her...
I don’t let myself finish the thought. Some scenarios don’t need to be mapped to their conclusions.
Footsteps in the corridor. Light, steady, approaching with purpose. I check the angle of light through the high windows. Just past dawn. She’s early.
Good. Punctuality is the first test.
She appears in the library doorway wearing borrowed training clothes—dark trousers, a fitted shirt that’s slightly too large, boots that have seen better days. Her hair is pulled back from her face, copper highlights catching the enchanted light. She looks rested. More solid than she did yesterday, though shadows still linger beneath her eyes.
“You said dawn.” Her voice is steady. No trace of the exhaustion that plagued her yesterday.
“I did.” I rise from my chair, gathering the texts into a neat stack. “You’re early.”
“I don’t sleep well in unfamiliar places.”
“Neither do I.” The admission slips out before I can stop it. I ignore it, moving toward the door. “We’ll start in the training yard. I need to assess where your control actually stands before we can establish a training protocol.”
