Eira's POV
She awoke to warmth.
That was wrong.
The North never felt warm.
Eira blinked against the soft flicker of firelight dancing across stone walls. Her body ached, her shoulder throbbed, and her throat felt like it had been scraped raw by a blade of ice. But the strangest thing was the sensation under her skin — not pain, not magic — something deeper.
Something alive.
She tried to sit up, but a weight at her side moved before she could.
Kael.
Seated in a chair near her cot, his armor gone, cloak draped over one shoulder. His sword leaned against the wall, within reach. But he wasn't asleep.
He was watching her.
And something about the way he looked at her made her heart do a strange, twisting lurch.
"You should be resting," he said, voice soft.
She sat up anyway, wincing. "How long was I unconscious?"
"Just over a day."
A day. Gods.
"The fever—" she began.
"Broke at dawn."
She rubbed her temples. "I shouldn't be here."
"No," he agreed. "But you are."
Her fingers drifted instinctively to her neck — to the Mark. It pulsed, faintly glowing beneath her skin. The energy there felt… different. Sharper. Connected.
She looked at him.
And something in his eyes told her he felt it, too.
"What did you do to me?" she whispered.
Kael stood, crossing the room in measured steps. "I should be asking you that."
She narrowed her gaze. "I didn't ask you to touch me. I didn't ask you to save me."
"No," he said, stopping just in front of her. "But your magic… it's doing something to mine."
"Mine's always been chaotic. Unpredictable."
"Mine never was."
That made her look up.
"You're telling me your magic—iceborn, disciplined, emotionless—has started acting like fire?"
He nodded once. "I burned a man's arm yesterday. Without using flame. That's never happened before."
Eira swallowed. "That shouldn't be possible."
"Neither should this."
He reached forward and placed his hand on her Mark again.
The reaction was instant.
Magic rushed between them, like lightning through wet veins. Not painful — but blinding. Her body arched slightly, her breath catching in her throat as her skin responded not just to his touch, but to his very presence.
And Kael…
He didn't pull away.
He stepped closer. Knees between hers now. Eyes locked to hers. Lips parted like he was trying not to say something that wanted out.
"Your Mark," he said roughly. "It's binding."
Her breath faltered. "To what?"
"To mine."
She froze.
Then she yanked down the collar of his tunic.
And there it was.
Low on his chest, etched like frost across his heart, a symbol. Barely glowing. Still faint. But undeniably similar to hers — the same star-flame sigil, only rimmed in icy blue.
"No," she breathed. "That's not— That's not how it works."
"It is now."
Kael's POV
He had seen magic in many forms. War magic. Blood magic. Forbidden southern alchemy. But this — this was something no one trained him for.
Soulbinding.
A myth.
A curse.
A prophecy.
Whatever it was, it had chosen her. And it had chosen him.
He studied her face now, every feature as familiar as breath. Her eyes glinted in the firelight, fierce and afraid all at once. Her lips parted, and his gaze dropped — not just with desire, but with hunger. A need to understand her. To know her.
"I should take you to the Citadel," he said.
"You should kill me."
"I can't."
"Won't," she corrected. "There's a difference."
He said nothing. He didn't know what this was. Only that since she touched him, his magic had changed. His self had changed.
And he didn't want it to stop.
"What does the bond mean?" he asked.
Eira turned her head. "Fireborn legends call it 'kinvalis.' Flame-threaded fate. Two souls burned from the same core."
"Romantic," he said bitterly.
"It isn't. It's lethal."
Kael stiffened.
"If one dies," she said, "so does the other."
Eira's POV
The words hung in the air like smoke.
She hadn't meant to tell him. But the bond was making it harder to lie. It pulled her toward truth, toward intimacy, toward him.
And that terrified her more than any bounty hunter ever could.
He stood there, staring at her like she had rewritten his life. Maybe she had. She hadn't asked for this. Gods knew she'd spent her whole life avoiding touch, avoiding closeness. It was safer that way.
And now?
Now she couldn't not feel him.
His magic. His presence. His emotions — faint impressions bleeding into her mind like echoes.
"You're feeling it too, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yes."
"What do you feel?"
He took a breath.
"Heat when you're near. A thread under my skin. And..." He hesitated. "Longing."
She looked up sharply. "For me?"
His answer was silent.
But his body was already answering.
He moved closer. Slowly. Giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't.
Instead, she tilted her head and met his mouth with hers.
This kiss was slower than the last. Deeper. A promise and a warning. Her hands slipped into his hair. His slid beneath her shirt, tracing fire along her spine.
Their magics wrapped together, knotting in the air like vines. The Mark on her throat burned bright. His did too.
And when they broke the kiss, breathless, trembling, and dazed, she rested her forehead against his.
"What happens now?" she whispered.
He exhaled against her lips.
"Now we find out what it means to be bound."
Kael's POV
She didn't run.
He half-expected her to. But instead, she stayed, curled into him like they had done this a hundred times before.
The fire didn't burn him.
It became him.
And for the first time since he'd taken up the sword, Kael wondered if this — she — was the thing his life had always been waiting for.
But outside this room, the world still turned.
And their time was running out.