I hop off the table and start toward the door, only to realize London isn’t next to me.
She’s still by Silver, the two staring at each other with conflicting expressions.
“Well,” I call and she snaps her head toward me like she forgot I existed. I gesture down the hall. “Feed me.”
With one last look at Silver, London leads me out of Silver’s sanctuary. We walk through the middle of the school, and it’s kind of hilarious how everyone dips their heads when she walks by.
The girl’s got mad aura, and I don’t think it’sonlybecause she’s currently the only queen they’ve got.
Maybe it’s the freaky white hair and the way her eyes flash black when the demon that is literally inside her gets triggered.
I wonder how that works?
Like, does it talk? Is it like a Lycan’s beast—a second being inside them who has a mind of its own? Or is it simply an extension of London herself?
She wasn’t born with it. According to all the shit I’ve been reading in my codex from Professor Astra, it’s a result of being fated to a Royal. A gift from the gods.
Wait…if it’s “fate,” then maybe shewasborn with it?
A huff leaves me, and I feel her look at me from the corner of her eye.
I need to have a little chat with that professor. Probably need to bring my knives ’cause every time someone asks about royalbonds, she shuts the conversation down like it’s some coveted shit no one else should know about. Lame. And apparently everyone is waiting and hoping to be matched with one of the Deveraux brothers around here, so this shit is like a daily topic at this point.
Not that I think I’m mated to Legend or anything…
Yeah. Okay, Haide.
Fuck.
London leads us to a place called The Cauldron House. It’s a creepy, cool place that sits high in the hills behind Rathe U, tucked so deep into the stone and steam that most students don’t bother climbing this far unless they’re starving or hiding.
Blackwood trees crowd the edges, their branches twisted like they’re reaching for the heat that rolls out of the open-air kitchen. The whole place smells like charred herbs and roasted meat and magic—old magic, the kind grown from bone broth and cauldrons that have boiled for decades. Probably gifted bones.
London keeps glancing back at me like she thinks I’m going to cut into the trees and run. It annoys me enough that I dig my boots harder into the incline just so I can pass her at the last second and claim the shadowy table tucked beneath an overhang.
The moment we sit, someone drops a plate piled with meat in front of me. Perfect. I tear into it with my hands because utensils are slow and unnecessary—and because London looks faintly horrified when I do it. Always a plus.
For a while we eat in silence, just the low hum of the cauldron bubbling behind us and the soft scrape of London’s fork against her plate. It’s almost peaceful.
Then London ruins it.
“So,” she says casually, like she’s commenting on the weather and not about to stab me sideways. “You’re Legend’s mate, hm?”
I freeze mid-bite, hand still suspended in the air, grease slicking my fingers. It takes a moment to recover from the sudden question, and I search her face—trying to decide if she’s joking, prying, or trying to start a fight. I’ll lose if she uses her magic on me, literal demon inside her and all.
“So he says,” I manage around the mouthful.
London tilts her head. “But you don’t think so.”
My jaw works once, swallowing hard.
The thing behind my bones flares like someone dragged claws across the inside of me. It’s been doing that more and more lately—every time I see him, or smell him, or hear someone say his name. Even thinking about him lights some stupid ember low in my stomach, a heat I can’t control and don’t understand.
It just keeps getting worse, a constant tug beneath my ribs that gets more unbearable each time I try to ignore it.
Ugh. Damn it.
I wipe my fingers on the edge of my jacket and lean back. “Bonds are new to me,” I say. “On the island, the only people who talked about mates were the ones who’d already lost themselves, claiming they had someone back in Rathe. But no one ever explained more than that, and you don’t ask fucked-up people any real questions. They just lie.” I suck the sauce off my pointer finger and thumb. “I figured it was…I don’t know. Someone you like to fuck. You know, ‘mate,’ so you basically imprison them.”
