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The mage was ancient, his face a map of wrinkles, his hands gnarled as old tree roots. He circled us slowly, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he examined the golden threads of light that flickered between Christian and me whenever we stood too close.

We had been summoned at dawn. Hauled before this court magician like criminals awaiting sentencing. Which, I supposed, we were.

"Soulbond." The mage's voice cracked like dry leaves. "Ancient magic. Unbreakable."

Christian's fury was cold and controlled beside me. Through the bond, I felt it. A glacier of rage trapped beneath perfect composure. This was a political catastrophe for him. The Shadow Commander, bound to his enemy. His father's hostage. His trophy prisoner.

"There must be a way to sever it." Christian's words were clipped. Precise.

"No." The mage shook his head. "This magic predates the kingdoms. Once formed, it cannot be undone. Not by spell. Not by ritual. Not by death."

My stomach twisted. Not by death. I was trapped with him forever.

The mage forced us to stand closer for the examination. Christian's hand gripped my shoulder. The touch was necessary. Clinical. But it felt like ownership.

Through the bond, I felt his fury at being shackled to me. It should have repelled me. Should have reinforced my hatred. Instead, the raw intensity of his emotion sent heat coiling low in my belly. His rage tasted like dark wine on my tongue, intoxicating and dangerous.

I jerked away from the sensation. He felt it. Felt my reaction to his anger. His fingers tightened on my shoulder in warning.

"Control yourself," he said through the bond. Not spoken aloud. A thought projected directly into my mind.

Get out of my head.

"I cannot. And neither can you."

The violation was complete.

The mage stepped back, his expression grim. "You must learn to shield your thoughts from each other. The bond will broadcast everything you feel unless you build walls."

"Teach her," Christian ordered.

"Both of you must learn." The mage's gaze was sharp. "Commander, your shields are already formidable. However, they will not hold against a soul bond. She will feel what you feel. Know what you know. Unless you both learn control, your every thought will be laid bare."

The implications settled over me like a shroud. Every hateful thought. Every moment of weakness. Every traitorous spike of awareness when he stood too close. He would know it all.

"This changes nothing," Christian said, his voice flat. "She is still my prisoner. The bond merely ensures she cannot run."

The mage said nothing. But his eyes held pity.

We were dismissed. Christian did not speak to me as we left the tower. Did not acknowledge my presence as guards fell into formation around us, escorting us to the great hall for the midday meal.

Drakon was waiting.

The king sat at the head of the high table, his throne-like chair elevated above all others. His smile was indulgent as we approached. Cruel.

"My son. And our dear guest." Drakon gestured to the seats beside him. "Come. Sit. We have much to discuss."

I had no choice but to obey. Christian sat to his father's right. I was placed to Christian's right, close enough that our arms nearly touched. The proximity made the bond hum with uncomfortable awareness.

Servants brought wine. A rich red that resembled blood in crystal goblets. I did not drink.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Drakon said, his voice rich with false warmth. "A soulbond. How... unexpected."

Christian's jaw tightened. "It is a complication. Nothing more."

"A complication." Drakon swirled his wine, watching the light play through the liquid. "You are bound to the daughter of the man you killed. The princess of the kingdom you conquered. I would call that more than a complication, my son."

My hands clenched in my lap. Through the bond, I felt Christian's controlled violence. His desire to silence his father. His perfect, rigid control preventing it.

"Tell me, Princess," Drakon continued, turning his attention to me. "Did you watch your father die? Or did my son grant you the mercy of unconsciousness first?"

My vision tunneled. The room narrowed to Drakon's face. His smile.

"I..." The words stuck in my throat.

"He did watch, actually." Drakon leaned back in his chair, satisfaction dripping from every word. "Christian told me himself. Your father begged for your life at the end. Quite touching, really. Though it made no difference."

Christian's hand moved under the table. His fingers brushed mine. A warning. Control yourself. Do not react.

But I could not stop the hatred from flooding through me. Could not stop the images. My father's blood. The throne room in flames. Christian standing over the carnage, his blade dripping red.

Through the bond, Christian felt every thought. Every memory. Every spike of anguish and rage.

"My son was quite thorough that night," Drakon continued, savoring each word like fine wine. "Not a single survivor. He has always been efficient. It is why I chose him to lead the assault."

"Father." Christian's voice held a warning.

"What? I am simply sharing the truth with our guest." Drakon smiled at me. "You should know exactly what kind of man you are bound to, Princess. Christian personally led the breach of your inner sanctum. He gave the order to kill everyone inside. Your father. Your mother. Your younger brother. Every guard. Every servant. Every courtier who stood between my crown and yours."

The bond pulsed with Christian's awareness of my rising fury. And beneath it, something worse. His satisfaction that I now knew the full extent of what he had done.

I stood abruptly. My chair scraped against stone.

"Sit down." Christian's command cut through my haze of rage.

"No."

His hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Golden light flickered between us. Pain lanced up my arm, followed by that terrible, traitorous heat.

"You will sit," he said softly. Dangerously. "Or I will make you."

Through the bond, I felt his certainty. His absolute control. He would force me to obey if necessary. And part of him wanted me to resist. Wanted the excuse.

I sat.

Drakon laughed. A sound like breaking glass.

"Delightful," he said. "Simply delightful."

The meal continued. Every bite was ash in my mouth. Every moment stretched into eternity. Drakon dissected my family's deaths with surgical precision, describing details only the commanding officer would know.

Christian's name. Christian's orders. Christian's blade.

When dinner finally ended, I fled to my chambers.

But I was not alone.

Through the bond, I felt him. Always there. Always watching.

Drakon's voice echoed in my mind, his final words whispered as I passed: "Tell me, does he dream of you? Or does he still dream of killing you?"

I would never be free of either of them.