The breakfast table was chaotic.
Seven pulses of mana buzzed around me, all familiar, all layered in conversation, clinking dishes, chewing, and the low hum of heat from the hearth in the royal wing's private dining hall. My plate was piled with too much bread and something I thought might be egg. Fay helped me serve it earlier after I accidentally reached for the salt container thinking it was a fruit jam jar.
Classic morning senses.
Rōko was already eating like she was prepping for war. Julius's mana was calm, as always, but I could tell from the angle of his limbs he was perched like a cat over the table, concentrating on chess pieces he had carved out of hardened stone.
"Julius," I said, voice cutting through a lull in the noise, "what exactly are the Ætherbound doing, anyway?"
The table quieted a little. Enough to hear Salem's chewing pause beside me.
I tilted my head toward Julius's mana. "No offense. I know you're one now, but… based on what I've felt—devils are still a level above. With maybe one exception. Lumos."
Julius didn't take it personally. He rarely did.
"You're not wrong," he said, setting a piece down. "The Ætherbound don't exist to outmatch devils. They exist to endure them."
He leaned back slightly.
"The power is ancient, like your metal magic. Like Rōko's. But it doesn't give you new spells or techniques. It makes everything stronger. Your growth. Your ability to break limits. It's slow, but it never stops."
Rōko made a grunt of vague approval.
"So… over time," he added, "what used to hold me back won't anymore. And the same goes for the rest of the Ætherbound."
I nodded slowly, processing.
Then—
"So, Annabel," Kate said casually. "Is Salem a good kisser?"
I nearly spat out my food.
Next to me, Salem actually did, she choked on a piece of apple and dropped her fork.
"WH—" I coughed, swallowing what I could. "What?!"
William's mana stayed still. Fay's spiked with guilt, then faded like she was hiding behind her teacup.
Even Julius's paused everything he was doing.
Kate continued, blithe as a breeze. "I mean it's obvious you two got together recently. Salem can't take her eyes off of you. She sits closer than she used to. She bristles when Julius gets too near, obvious jealousy. And you were on a full-blown date yesterday and came home with gifts like parents from a day trip."
I blinked at her blur. "You are terrifying."
Rōko slid in between us, her mana wide and amused.
"I knew it," she said smugly. "I knew it. I so see these two kissing. Honestly, it was only a matter of time. Salem has always acted so sweet around you, even though, you know…" She waved a hand vaguely. "Demon."
Salem groaned into her hands. I could feel the shadow of her one side flare a bit.
I folded my arms, cheeks warm. "Yes. We did. Now so what?" I pouted. "Let us be, will ya?"
The whole table broke into laughter. Even Julius smiled, faint, amused. Alven snored from the corner, still half-asleep and missing all of it.
The rest of the day passed fast.
Julius went off to meet Malenia, practicing for tomorrow's Ætherbound demonstration.
The rest of us scattered. The castle gardens, training halls, even the balcony where the wind cut sharp and the sun sat high.
And Salem and I?
We ended up in the training hall too.
The arena hummed with protective wards.
We stood across from each other — two mana shapes I knew like breath and heartbeat.
I hadn't fought her since before we bonded.
Back when she was trying to kill me.
Her mana flared.
Mine answered.
And the air between us stilled.
Just for a moment.
The warded floor beneath us hummed faintly with residual spellwork, tuned to keep limbs from breaking and ribs from snapping. The moment the protective dome sealed above, the world went quiet.
Just me.
And Salem.
Two blurs of mana against a field of charged stillness.
"No weapons. No magic," I said, stepping forward slowly. "I know you'll probably kick my ass like this, but we need to practice close combat anyway."
Her mana shifted — feline, amused.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"That's cute," I said. "You will."
She didn't answer.
Because she moved.
Fast, so fast the air cracked — and I braced for a direct hit, raising my arms to block what looked like a wild swing.
But it was a feint.
At the last second, her mana dipped low and swept beneath me — a blur of motion too slippery to counter in time. Her legs wrapped around my neck from behind, flipping me and dragging me down to the mat with a muffled thud.
She locked her thighs tight, around my head, of all places — bracing herself with one hand planted behind her and the other free to catch my wrist.
Her mana laughed.
"You okay down there?"
"Fighting dirty are we?."
"Not even a little."
But I didn't stay still.
I twisted, elbows tucked, and rammed the point of one straight into her side. Just enough to make her shift. Her hold loosened for a second. Just one.
It was all I needed.
I wriggled free, breathless, and stumbled backward into a crouch.
Now I threw the first hit — a punch aimed toward her collar. She blocked. I followed with a kick to her ribs. Another block. She caught my leg. I spun out of it and went for her hip.
She ducked.
I was sweating now, and she hadn't even blinked.
But then she went for the tackle.
And this time, I was ready.
I stepped into her momentum, hooked her at the waist, and threw.
She hit the mat flat on her back, for once I moved fast, straddling her to pin her down with my weight, my hands fumbling for her wrists to lock her in.
But Salem just laughed.
"Too slow."
Her legs tangled with mine like a trap snapping shut, twisting, locking, flipping our positions with ease. Her body, heavier and stronger, rolled us over with perfect control until she had me pinned.
One hand braced beside my head. The other caught both of my wrists. Her legs tangled through mine.
No escape.
"Tap out," she whispered.
"I won't."
"There's no getting away this time," she said smugly. "You're mine."
And then, because she was cruel, she leaned in and started kissing my face.
First one cheek. Then the other.
A kiss on my nose. Then one on my temple.
"Salem—"
"Tap out," she murmured again. Kiss. "Say it." Kiss. "Say you're done."
"Stop!" I choked, giggling. "You're cheating again!"
"I'm improvising."
"Improvising is not valid martial technique!"
"It is when you're in love."
I wanted to push her off.
I really did.
But I didn't move.
Not even a little.
I was pinned under her, laughing breathlessly, blushing hard, and more in love than I thought a soul could be, across lifetimes or timelines or battlefields.
So I whispered, very softly.
"…Okay. You win."
And her mana beamed.
Of course it did.
(Julius Pov)
I arrived at the sparring grounds a little early.
Malenia was already there.
Of course she was.
Standing with her arms crossed, polished breastplate gleaming in the late morning sun, a single training sword in her hand like it was begging for blood instead of bruises.
As I walked up, I didn't bother with a greeting.
"First time you met Annabel," I said flatly, "you tried to cut her in half."
Malenia blinked once. Then smirked. "And?"
"You realize you're only pissing off Salem when you pull stunts like that."
She scoffed, brushing a hand through her white-gold hair, and didn't bother hiding the anger in her mana. "Those two? Overrated. The entire kingdom won't shut up about them. 'The prodigy this, the demon that.' Spare me. They've had two fights worth noticing."
I grinned despite myself. "You're wrong. And not just by a little."
She tilted her head.
"They're the most dangerous duo you'll meet. Ever. You just haven't seen them unleashed."
Malenia didn't respond.
Which meant I'd landed the point.
Instead, she turned toward the center of the field and said, "Simple rules?"
"Simple weapons." I raised the training sword I'd picked, standard metal, dulled edge. "Lirael's waiting in the healing chamber if either of us makes a mistake."
"And magic?"
I gave a shrug. "Allowed. Just don't burn the field down."
"Fair enough."
We walked into the ring — a clean stone circle reinforced with boundary wards. The air buzzed faintly, reacting to the surge of mana from both of us.
Both of us Ætherbound.
The spar began.
I held my sword low, blade resting lightly behind my calf. Calm. Centered. She was smaller than me, and fast — but in a duel like this, especially with no spear to extend her reach, she was at a disadvantage.
So I stayed open.
Let her think she had the first move.
And she took it.
A blur of red and steel, she sprinted toward me, her blade lashing in wide arcs meant to keep me defensive. I parried the first three blows easily, her strikes hard but reckless. Strong enough to test my grip, but not enough to break it.
Then she twisted low, aiming for my legs.
I grinned.
"Got you."
A snap of mana, and the ground beneath her shimmered. Flamebind — a thin cord of flames surged up and around her ankles, locking them mid-step.
She tripped.
But only for a second.
Malenia caught herself on her hands, flipped up with terrifying control, and sliced the bindings mid-air with a flame-coated arc.
"I hope that wasn't your strategy," she hissed.
"I've got more."
"I hope so. That was pathetic."
She landed in a crouch, already mid-spell. Her sword lit up, flame running down the flat like oil on water. Then she came at me again, her swings less wild this time. Sharper. Measured. She was using her size now — ducking, pivoting, forcing me to move.
I blocked one.
Two.
Three.
Cracks formed along my blade. I adjusted my stance, using every inch of height and weight to hold her off, but she was relentless.
Then with a clean, two-handed overhead strike, she broke my sword.
It snapped halfway down the blade and flew off into the grass.
I didn't move.
"Fair play," I said, taking one step back. "But you've been focused on breaking me…"
She narrowed her eyes.
"…not on your surroundings."
Her mana flared, confused.
Then something hissed.
She looked up.
The fire net I'd been building for the last twenty seconds fell like a web of molten chains — silent, heavy, and wide. She dove to dodge, but I'd already leapt free of the center, leaving her no room to roll.
The warding stones flared and caught the worst of the heat, but the point was made.
Spar complete.
I landed light on my feet.
Across the circle, Malenia was half under the net. ash in her hair, flame marks kissing her armor. She didn't say anything for a long moment.
Then, finally, with the flattest tone she could muster — she muttered:
"…Cheap."
I just smiled and picked up the broken half of my sword.
"You keep thinking raw power wins fights. That's why you'll lose."
The flames fizzled out into scorched threads of smoke as I stepped back, sword in pieces but pride intact. Malenia rolled out from under the singed net, her eyes flaring hotter than any fire magic she'd thrown at me.
She was already on her feet, sweat-slicked, hair tousled from the fight, still dangerous, still fuming.
"You think that was clever?" she spat, stalking toward me. "You win one spar with a cheap trick and suddenly you're cocky?"
"I've always been cocky," I said, resting my broken sword over my shoulder. "And that wasn't cheap. You were too busy playing berserker to notice me weaving a trap above your head. That's not cheap. That's awareness."
She got close — too close.
Her other hand moved to the strap of her armor — subtle at first — but then she gave it a deliberate tug. The front plating loosened, slipping down just enough for her body to spill partly into view, bare skin only a bra beneath the dim sheen of metal. No illusion, no accident Shameless. Calculated.
Then, with all the confidence in the world, she grabbed my hand and placed it directly on her chest, pressing it there as if daring me to deny her. Her eyes gleamed with something between lust and challenge.
"Someone like me," she murmured, smirking like the whole kingdom already belonged to her.
I stared at her for a beat — not because I was stunned, but because I was debating whether to laugh or just shove her outright.
I went with the latter.
Not hard — just firm enough to shove her back two steps and make her flinch.
"You're immature," I said flatly, wiping my hand on my tunic. "And I won while fighting like a dog, yeah. So what does that make you, Malenia?"
Her smirk faltered. Just slightly. The crack in her armor.
"You should keep your guard up tomorrow," I added. "One wrong word, one wrong look, and Salem will do a lot worse than what I just did."
She swallowed, tight, dry.
"Fuck you, Julius."
I didn't say anything else. Just turned, the scorched grass crackling beneath my boots.
Let her stew in her pride. We'd see who kept their head when the stakes got real.
( Annabel Pov )
The spar was over. And I'd lost.
Obviously.
I was still catching my breath, lying there like a ragdoll in the grass while Salem crouched beside me, smug mana glowing like she'd just stolen the moon.
"My poor pride," I groaned, covering my face with one arm. "I got way too flustered when your legs wrapped around my neck. What is wrong with me?"
Salem leaned in. Her mana curled at the edges like a smirk.
"You mean the part where I choked you with my thighs?"
I nodded into my sleeve, mortified.
"It's just… they were soft, and also strong? I didn't want it to stop. That's so bad. That's…gods, that's so bad."
I could feel her grin before I heard it.
"Ooh," she purred. "Maybe I should keep that in mind. Next time you're being difficult, I'll just wrap you up and wait for you to surrender."
"Don't say that!" I hissed, still not uncovering my face. "You're the worst."
"No, no," she said sweetly, voice dipping lower as she leaned over me. "You're the worst. You made me kiss your foot yesterday, remember?"
A deep, dark blush exploded across my face, I knew it did. I could feel the heat pulsing off my own cheeks.
Salem burst into laughter. Actual, full laughter. Her aura rippled with joy, smug and teasing and so unreasonably satisfied with herself.
"It's worse than ever," she snorted. "Your face! You're melting!"
I shoved her shoulder half-heartedly, still breathless.
"It's not funny," I mumbled.
"It's adorable," she replied. "You're adorable."
We stayed like that for a moment longer, her still hovering, me still trying to disappear into the ground. Before she finally stood up and offered me her hand.
"Okay," she said, tugging me up. "Enough flirting. Magic output drills. We've got Ætherbound to outshine tomorrow."
I took her hand.
"Yeah," I said softly. "Let's get to it."
——
The air shimmered faintly with mana as I shaped another blade, slender, curved, and glinting silver in my senses like moonlight forged into steel.
I launched it toward the distant target.
It struck center. A satisfying clink echoed back.
"Again," I muttered to myself.
The next one formed faster, smoother. A long spear this time, and then a halberd, then something between the two, with hooked edges and a razor tip. Each one launched with sharp, clean precision.
I grabbed the training bow off the rack, breathing slow. Then gathered mana into the string, shaping it into a set of custom arrows made from pure metal essence.
Focus.
Breath in.
Mana in.
Release.
"Impressive, Annie."
I squeaked. Nearly dropped the arrow.
"Why are you so close to me when I'm training?!" I huffed, trying not to sound too flustered.
Salem didn't answer right away. Just laughed softly — right against my neck, her breath curling like a warm breeze through my collar.
"Well," she murmured, "any distraction in battle is a weakness, isn't it? You simply shouldn't get distracted by me. That's all."
"It's not that simple," I hissed under my breath, trying to steady the bow again. "When you're this close, I want to do things that shouldn't be spoken aloud."
"Oh?"
Her hands slipped around my waist.
My whole body locked up.
"Nuh uh," she whispered, lips brushing too close to my ear. "Learn to focus. Hit every target. No matter what."
My face burned. But my hands stayed steady.
One breath.
Draw.
Aim.
Thwip.
Bullseye.
Again.
Again.
Thwip.
Dead center.
"That," Salem said against my hair, "was amazing."
I held still for a moment, heart racing, her hands still soft at my waist. Her mana looped gently with mine, lazy and affectionate, proud.
And maybe a little hungry.
"Okay," I said, breathless. "Now you try."
"I don't use a bow, you wanna see me utterly fail at something don't you?!"
"Yup you got me all figured out."
She laughed.
But I didn't move away.
——
Morning didn't creep in soft — it crashed, loud and gold and unfair.
I could hear the nobles filing in from the open windows. Cloaks rustling. Shoes tapping stone. Mana signatures fluttering like feathered flags trying to one-up each other. And underneath it all, from farther out — the poor.
Their voices cut sharp through the morning air. Angry. Desperate. Let us see. Let us witness. This belongs to all of us too.
They weren't wrong.
I fastened the last clasp on the tunic King Hadrian gave me the night before, the fabric stiff and weighty with house sigils and embroidered pride. It felt like something I shouldn't be allowed to wear. Like armor for someone else's war.
"I agree with them," I murmured, fingers brushing over the golden crest.
Salem's voice came lazy and low behind me. "Yeah, well. Nobles like their toys private." A pause. Then, in a tone I couldn't quite place, "It's white and gold."
She stepped closer. I felt her mana first, brushing mine, warm and grounding.
"Really brings out your hair," she added, her hands smoothing the shoulders of the tunic like she was touching me and not the fabric at all. "Makes the black look… dangerous."
I snorted. "So now I look like trouble?"
"You always do."
⸻
The hallway pulsed with sound and footfalls and the scent of too many perfumes layered into polished marble. We passed guards. Stewards. Nobles in rings of clicking mana like polished cages.
Salem kept close. Not in the way that said I'm here to protect you. In the way that said you belong next to me.
The training hall doors opened, and everything in me tried to run.
Above us, the second floor curved in a high horseshoe, a platform packed with nobles, glowing outlines packed shoulder to shoulder, like watching wolves behind crystal.
Their presence prickled along my skin, mana everywhere, different weights, different colors, all heavy with expectation.
And then…
There. Up and left.
Three familiar shapes.
Mom.
Dad.
Ramon.
My heart skipped. I lifted a hand, not even sure if I was waving right, but I knew they saw. Or felt.
The stakes, somehow, got even higher.
Beside me, Salem didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her mana pulsed once, calm and steady, a quiet promise against the roar.
On the floor, to the left — friendly warmth: Kate's bounce, Fay's ripple, William's calm steadiness. Alven's drowsy thrum, and Rōko, all smoke and sharp teeth and loyalty.
Opposite wall, colder outlines.
Malenia. Her mana sharp like coiled wire. Impatient.
Julius. Quieter. Solid. Watching everything and saying nothing, as usual.
And in the middle, like a sun had swallowed a void. Lincoln.
His presence pressed in on all sides, thick velvet power wrapped tight. Not leaking. Not raw. But there. Contained only because he let it be.
Behind him, the devil that nearly killed us. Kali.
Her mana was an old burn I didn't want to remember. But it was different now. Like a flame put in a cage and told to behave.
Lincoln approached, smooth as ever. "Thank you for participating," he said.
I didn't try to be polite. "You didn't give me a choice."
"Semantics." His tone never changed. "But you're here. That's what matters."
I clenched my teeth. His mana didn't twitch. Nothing did.
"This will be a light spar," he said. "Two on two. No limits — I've put my own mana into the structure. Floor, walls, ceiling. You won't break anything."
Well. Except each other.
"We've got Lirael and the student healers nearby," he added, gesturing lazily toward the far end of the room. "Just in case."
Salem didn't move. Just let a shadow curl lazily around one of her fingers. Like a threat stretching its back.
"Pick your weapons," Lincoln said.
⸻
We moved toward the racks.
Salem didn't touch a thing — of course. Her shadows did the job. A blade formed from her arm, patient and deadly.
Julius picked a sword that was nothing special — but somehow that made it more dangerous. No flair. Just something meant to work.
Malenia's grip closed around a spear. Her mana flared sharp in response, eager. Like the weapon liked her back.
I went for the usual.
A long bō staff. Smooth. Weighted. Familiar in a way my own heartbeat was.
Everyone cleared the floor. The nobles all leaned in. My parents were still up there, their mana like steady warmth on my skin. Salem's brushed mine again — checking in. I brushed back.
Kali's outline didn't shift, but her attention did. Locked. Waiting.
Lincoln raised one hand. Standing amongst the nobles now.
I breathed in.
Everything stilled.
"Begin."