Chapter 23

The aftermath of the hound attack left the southern courtyard slick with rain and blood. Guards hauled the carcasses away while the rest reinforced the gates, their armor clinking in the mist-heavy air.

Kael stood at the edge of the courtyard, scanning the treeline with a predator’s stillness. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, a smear of blood along his collarbone that I was fairly sure wasn’t his.

“You’re bleeding,” I said, stepping closer.

He glanced at me briefly. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re dripping on the flagstones,” I replied, grabbing his arm before he could turn away.

His amber eyes slid down to where my fingers curled around his forearm. “You’re bossy tonight.”

“I learned it from you,” I shot back, already pulling a cloth from my belt. “Hold still.”

He didn’t move, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips as I pressed the cloth to his shoulder. His skin was warm under my touch, his breath steady despite the fight we’d just endured.

“You could have been killed,” he murmured.

“So could you.”

“I’m used to it.”

I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t make it better.”

His gaze softened, but before he could reply, Lucien appeared behind me, his presence as quiet and unsettling as a shadow.

“The hounds were only the opening move,” he said, glancing between us. “A distraction. Something bigger is coming.”

Kael’s smirk vanished. “From Veyris?”

Lucien shrugged one elegant shoulder. “Or someone who wants us to think it’s him.”

I frowned. “Why send hounds just to retreat?”

Lucien’s crimson eyes flicked to me. “To make us nervous. To stretch our forces thin. The real attack will come when we’re tired of waiting.”

Kael exhaled sharply. “Then we don’t give them that chance.”

He issued orders quickly—doubling the watch, sealing off lesser-used corridors, placing runners between the wolf scouts and vampire guards. It was strangely seamless, watching him and Lucien work together, their old rivalry buried under necessity.

Once the orders were given, Kael turned back to me. “You’re staying in my quarters tonight.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ll be safest there. My guards won’t let anyone through without my word.”

“I have my own room,” I argued.

“And it’s at the far end of the west wing with two blind corners leading to it. That’s a problem.”

Lucien’s voice was dry. “He’s right, you know. Not that I object to you staying here, Astrid. It will be… entertaining.”

Kael gave him a flat look. “You’re not invited.”

Lucien just smirked and melted into the mist.

Kael’s quarters were exactly what I’d expect from him—functional, sparse, and built for practicality rather than beauty. A map-strewn table dominated one side of the room, while the other held a massive bed draped in deep grey furs.

“You live like a soldier,” I said, glancing around.

“I am a soldier.”

“I was expecting at least one unnecessary decorative sword.”

“That’s Lucien’s style.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him peel off his bloodied shirt to reveal a lean, scar-lined torso. My brain promptly decided to betray me.

He caught me staring. Of course he did. “See something you like?”

I opened my mouth to retort, but nothing coherent came out. He smiled faintly and reached for a fresh shirt.

“I’ll take the chair,” I said quickly, pointing at the large armchair near the hearth.

“No, you won’t.”

“It’s fine, I—”

“Astrid.” His tone left no room for argument. “The bed. Now.”

Heat prickled the back of my neck. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

I muttered something under my breath and crawled onto the bed. He didn’t join me immediately—just settled into the chair with his sword across his lap, watching the door. The firelight painted his features in sharp gold and shadow.

I should have slept. Instead, I watched him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes flicked to the door every time the wind howled outside.

At some point, my exhaustion won.

I woke to the sound of hushed voices. The fire had burned low, Kael still in the chair, speaking quietly with someone just outside the door.

“…east wing,” a guard was saying. “Tracks lead toward the abandoned wing.”

“Keep it sealed,” Kael replied. “If you see anything, don’t engage—send word to me.”

The door shut.

Kael noticed I was awake. “Trouble?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

But his jaw was tight, and I knew that meant it was worse than he was saying.

By midday, rumors were already spreading—about shadows moving through the halls, of whispers in languages no one recognized. The tension coiled tighter around Ebonveil.

The Academy sent word that several students had gone missing during the night. That was when Kael’s patience snapped.

“We’re going there,” he told me, already strapping on his weapons.

I didn’t argue.

The Academy’s halls felt colder than I remembered, the usual hum of magic dampened, as though the building itself was holding its breath. We moved quickly toward the eastern library, where the last student had been seen.

The scent of iron hit me before we reached the door. My stomach turned.

Inside, the shelves were splattered with blood. No bodies—just signs of a struggle. Papers lay scattered across the floor, many of them ripped as though someone had been searching for something specific.

Kael crouched, picking up a torn scrap. “This is old,” he said, frowning at the faded ink.

“What does it say?”

“Nothing I can read. But it’s not vampire or wolf script.”

Before I could ask what he meant, a sound broke the silence—a faint, echoing scrape, like something being dragged.

Kael was on his feet instantly, his hand gripping my arm. “Stay close.”

We followed the sound through a narrow hall to a locked door. Kael forced it open, and the sight inside froze me in place.

The missing students—alive but unconscious—were chained along the wall, strange symbols painted across their skin in some dark, glittering ink.

“What is this?” I whispered.

“Blood-binding magic,” Kael said grimly. “Not ours. Not theirs.”

He began breaking chains while I checked pulses. All steady—thank the stars. But the markings on their skin seemed to pulse faintly, like they were alive.

When the last student was free, we led them to the main hall, where the healers took over.

Lucien arrived moments later, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene.

“This isn’t Veyris’s work,” he said finally.

Kael’s gaze was sharp. “Then whose is it?”

Lucien’s crimson eyes met mine for a fraction too long before he answered. “Someone who wants to tear the Accord apart before it’s even signed.”

That night, the council convened. Vampires, wolves, and human representatives sat in the candlelit chamber, the air thick with suspicion.

The news of the attack had already spread, and accusations were flying.

“This is exactly what we feared,” one vampire lord said. “The wolves are breaking the Accord before it even exists.”

“How convenient,” a wolf alpha growled back, “that the vampires ‘found’ the missing students in their own territory.”

Kael stood before them all, unshaken. “The magic used is neither vampire nor wolf. We have a third player in this war, and while you argue, they are moving against all of us.”

Lucien leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between the council members like a cat watching mice fight. “If you want to survive,” he said lazily, “perhaps start by not tearing each other apart for the benefit of whoever is behind this.”

The room quieted.

It was decided, begrudgingly, that both factions would share patrol duties for the next fortnight. It was a fragile step, but it was something.

Later, after the council dispersed, I found Kael leaning against the balcony railing outside the chamber. The city sprawled below us, lights glimmering faintly through the mist.

“Didn’t think I’d see the day vampires and wolves agreed on anything,” I said softly.

“They didn’t agree,” he replied. “They just hate losing more than they hate each other.”

His profile was sharp in the moonlight, his eyes reflecting silver instead of gold. I stepped closer, drawn without thinking.

“You’ve been quiet since the Academy,” I said.

“There’s more to those markings than I said in there,” he admitted after a pause. “I’ve seen them once before. Years ago, in the Borderlands.”

“From the same enemy?”

“Maybe. Maybe someone worse.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the night air cool against my skin. Then he looked at me, and there was something raw in his gaze.

“I don’t know how to protect you from this,” he said quietly.

“You’ve done a decent job so far.”

His lips quirked faintly. “That’s not enough.”

Before I could reply, he reached up, brushing his knuckles lightly along my cheek. The touch was fleeting, almost hesitant, but it left my pulse unsteady.

“You make me reckless,” he murmured.

I swallowed. “Good. Now we’re even.”

His smirk deepened just enough to make my stomach flip. “Careful, Astrid. I might start thinking you like me.”

“Maybe I do.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

For once, he didn’t have a comeback. He just looked at me for a long moment, then stepped back, the distance deliberate but reluctant.

“Get some rest,” he said. “Tomorrow will be worse.”

Somehow, I believed him.

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