I didn't sleep.
Not because I couldn't.
Because I didn't dare.
The Binding Glass still whispered to me from the vault corner—soft and persistent, like breath against the back of my neck. It hadn't shown anything yet. That was the trick. It waited. It watched. And eventually, it would win.
But not today.
Today I had another problem.
Another mate.
Diana's third.
The one with eyes like thunder and a voice that could make kings kneel. The one she always met during the gala follow-ups, when the shine of the first two started to dull and she needed someone "serious."
And even though my gut—my magic—kept pulling me toward Knight like a half-remembered promise, I wasn't ready.
He was too close. Too familiar. The edges of my soul still itched every time I thought of him. Every timeline, he came back different. A friend. A rival. Sometimes, in one brutal blue-moon lifetime, something closer.
And I couldn't face that.
Not until I had more power.
More information.
A few more pieces on the board.
So instead of walking toward the storm, I chose fire. Taking problems.
Mate Three.
Kael of the Embermarked.
He wasn't subtle.
Hell, he wasn't even safe.
But that's what made him perfect for Diana's current emotional state—post-bond disruption, post-Kade. A classic rebound disaster waiting to happen.
Kael burned bright and fast.
And if he imprinted on her?
The explosion would take out a city block.
He ran a private fighting ring below the bridge district, posing as a licensed elemental trainer. A sham. Everyone in the underground knew what he really did: ignite magic, twist it until it broke, then build something dangerous out of the ashes.
The kind of man Diana would look at and say, He's misunderstood, while I prepared the body bags.
I left the vault through the back, taking the long path along the salt-warded canals. Didn't want attention. Didn't want questions. Just needed to get there first.
Before she did.
Before the third bond could light.
Before I lost another one to fate.
The entrance was hidden, of course. A cracked concrete archway under the expressway, spelled with layered glamours so thick a vampire couldn't smell its own grave dirt. But I knew the mark etched on the wall—the rune of heat twisted into shape by Kael's own blood. An invitation, a warning, and a curse rolled into one.
I touched it, and the wall peeled open.
The heat hit me like a punch to the gut. Stale sweat, fire dust, and the metallic tang of scorched magic.
Inside, the arena was already lit—half-circle, open pit, runes glowing dim beneath a glass floor soaked with the memory of every spell ever cast here. And in the center, shirtless and smug as hell, stood Kael.
He didn't turn. Didn't need to.
"You're early, Reckoner."
His voice rolled over the flames like molten steel.
"I like to scout my disasters in advance."
He laughed. Low. Dangerous. "You always had a way with compliments."
"I save the sweet talk for people who don't collect women like trophies."
Now he did turn. Golden eyes glinting with amusement and just enough threat to keep it interesting.
"And yet, here you are."
"Your next mistake is on her way here."
He grinned. "I know."
I stepped into the pit making a mark.
He didn't stop me or even blink.
"Why?" I asked. "Why her?"
"She's willing," he said simply. "And I don't turn away the willing."
"You don't even know her."
"I don't have to." He stepped closer, firelight crawling up his skin like a lover. "She burns. I like the ones who burn."
I rolled my eyes. "You like chaos."
"I like potential."
"She's not a forge," I snapped. "She's a person."
He looked at me then—really looked.
And for just a moment, his expression changed. Less hunger. More memory.
"You're protecting her," he said.
"I'm protecting everything."
His eyes narrowed. "You're delaying the Knight."
My pulse ticked once.
He knew.
Of course he knew. It was hard to manipulate fairies without consent or using the laws.
"Why not just go to him?" Kael asked, voice suddenly quiet. "You've felt it. Haven't you? The old pull?"
I swallowed. "It's not time."
"Or you're afraid."
I didn't answer.
Didn't have to.
Kael reached into his coat and tossed me a token—a small piece of scorched obsidian wrapped in gold wire. A marker. A challenge. A promise.
"When she arrives," he said, "I'll give her a choice."
"You're not the noble type, Kael."
"I'm not. But she is."
"And if she chooses you?"
He smiled. "Then I guess you'll have to stop me."
I pocketed the token.
But I didn't leave.
Instead, I climbed the steps to the edge of the pit and stood there, silent, arms folded, watching the flames pulse across the arena floor like a heartbeat.
Kael didn't look at me again.
He knew I'd stay.
And I hated that he was right.
Because for all my plans—my perfectly timed sabotage, my stolen knowledge of a thousand fractured timelines—something had shifted.
Something in me.
This time, it wasn't about keeping Diana from bonding.
It was about letting her choose the right one.
And Kael?
He wasn't just the lesser disaster.
He was the containment line.
The fire that might keep the rest at bay.
He was power—not the polished kind with a pedigree, but the raw, feral strength that survived every battlefield. The kind that could burn through a curse, a court, or a Council decree.
If Diana bonded with him… it might be enough.
He might be enough.
To keep her from chasing the others.
To keep the war from swallowing her whole.
To give me time.
The door below opened—heavy, rune-bound, creaking like it hated being touched by anything less than blood oath.
Diana stepped inside.
Hair up. Heels high. Wearing that stupid red jacket she always picked when she wanted to feel dangerous.
She saw Kael. The way her breath caught, she felt it instantly—the pulse, the spark, the invisible thread starting to stretch between them.
Her gaze drifted up toward the stands.
And she saw me.
I didn't move.
Didn't call out.
Didn't stop her.
I just met her eyes. And I let it happen.
Because this time?
The plan was that I wasn't going to fight the bond.
I was going to use it.
Let Kael bind to her. Let him stand between her and the rest. Let him take the mantle of protector. Enforcer. Lover, if it came to that.
Because he was the only one among the six who didn't want to worship her. He wanted to challenge her. Shape her.
And gods help us all, Diana needed that.
So I stilled.
I watched her walk down the steps.
Watched Kael meet her halfway.
Watched the bond bloom like wildfire between them, reckless and sharp and real.
And I said nothing.
Just stood there in the shadows, unmoving, cloaked in the folds of my worn gray coat—the one laced with layered glamours, stitched with secrecy and stitched for moments like this.
For once, I was grateful for it.
Because I felt him the moment he stepped into the arena.
Not with my magic.
With my soul.
Knight.
The air shifted the way it always did around him—like the universe held its breath.
The ward runes sparked against the floor, reacting to something they couldn't name. Even Kael looked up, a flicker of curiosity flashing through his molten-gold eyes.
Diana turned slowly.
And there he was.