Todos los capítulos de BOUND TO THE SHADOW : Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 6

Chapter 2: The Gilded CageGawin's Pov ​The cold, oppressive dampness of the dungeons faded into the rich scent of cedar, polished mahogany, and burning jasmine.​I didn’t open my eyes immediately. I let my senses map out my surroundings first, an old habits-of-a-spymaster trick that had saved my throat more times than I could count. The surface beneath me was suffocatingly plush, draped in heavy silk and down blankets that felt entirely unnatural against my skin. There was no sound of dripping water, no clanking of iron gates, no guards muttering outside a barred door. Just the soft crackle of a hearth somewhere to my left, radiating an intense, golden heat.​"I know you're awake, Gawin."​The voice was low, resonant, and entirely too close.​I opened my eyes, wincing at the soft amber light filtering through thick velvet drapes. My vision took a moment to focus before landing on Joss. He had shed his heavy velvet traveling cloak and high-collared armor, clad now in a dark, open-col

​Chapter 4: The Iron CollarJoss's POV​Control was not merely a habit to me, it was the bedrock upon which I had built the Northern Citadel.​A spymaster measures life in secrets, but a sovereign measures it in leverage. For ten years, I had held every piece on the board with absolute precision. Generals bowed to my silence, rival realms trembled at the mere prospect of my shadow-bound legions, and assassins the best the Southern Guilds could buy had died silently in the dark corridors beneath my feet.​Except one.​Gawin Caskey sat at the far end of the marble bathing chamber, wrapped in a dark velvet robe that swallowed his lean frame. He looked frail, a sight that infuriated me because I knew it was a lie. Beneath that pale skin and those dark circles under his eyes lay a lethal, wounded predator. Even now, with his core bound and his body fighting the early strains of a royal pregnancy, his hands were steady. He was watching the movement of my jaw, the rhythm of my breath, calcul

Chapter 6: The Council of Wolves​The High Chamber of the Northern Citadel smelled of beeswax, wet slate, and ancient, unyielding stone.​I stood three paces behind Joss Wayer’s obsidian throne, shrouded in a high-collared mantle of midnight velvet. Underneath the heavy fabric, a silver-embroidered tunic hugged my chest and waist cut specifically to conceal the subtle, soft shift in my lower abdomen that only I and Master Edwin could truly detect.​My body felt heavy, anchored by the dense, blood-fortifying tonic Joss had forced down my throat two hours prior. The sickness had receded into a low, dull thrum at the base of my spine, replaced by an uncomfortable surge of heightened senses. I could hear the faint scuffle of leather boots against marble; I could smell the sharp, metallic tang of iron grease on the guards' broadswords; and most of all, I could feel the suffocating, protective pressure of Joss’s aura wrapping around me like an invisible suit of armor.​Before the long, hors