Rhiannon's POV
He was dying, and he didn't even know I could feel it.
The poison burned through our bond like acid, a slow sickness eating away at him from the inside. I pressed my hand against the wagon wall, fighting the urge to heal him before I even understood what was happening.
Why do I care? The thought made me sick. He killed Kieran. Let the poison take him.
But the bond wouldn't let me be so cold. Every pulse of pain from him echoed in my own body, making my head throb and my stomach twist.
"We're here," the guard announced.
I looked up and my breath caught.
Blackthorn Fortress rose before us like a mountain of stone and shadows. It looked exactly like what it was—a place built for war. No warmth. No mercy. Just cold, hard survival carved into rock.
Enemy territory. The place I'd been taught to fear my entire life.
My new home.
The thought made bile rise in my throat.
Guards pulled me from the wagon. My legs barely held me—whether from the journey or the constant pulse of Caspian's sickness through the bond, I didn't know.
"Move." A female guard with scars across her face shoved me forward.
We entered through massive doors that looked like they could withstand anything. Inside, the fortress was just as cold as outside. Warriors lined the halls, all of them stopping to stare as I passed. I felt their hatred like physical blows.
Silverfang scum, I heard someone whisper.
Can't believe the Alpha's binding himself to one of them.
She's probably a spy.
I kept my head high even as fear clawed at my throat. One wrong move and these people would tear me apart, treaty or not.
Through the bond, I felt Caspian somewhere above us. His pain had lessened slightly, but the poison was still there, constant and deadly.
Who's killing you? I wondered. And do you have any idea?
"Alpha's wing," the scarred guard said, stopping at a door. "You don't leave without permission. You don't wander. You don't speak to anyone without approval. Clear?"
"Crystal." My voice came out steadier than I felt.
She opened the door and shoved me inside.
The room was beautiful. A real bed with soft blankets. Windows overlooking mountains. Furniture that wasn't broken or bloodstained. After years of sleeping in field tents and tiny barracks, it looked like luxury.
But when I tried the door handle, it wouldn't budge.
A prison. Just a prettier one than I'd expected.
I sank onto the bed, every muscle in my body aching. Through the bond, I felt Caspian moving through the fortress, his emotions carefully locked down now. But I could still sense the edges—anger, exhaustion, and that ever-present guilt.
Why do you feel guilty? I wanted to scream at him. You gave the order. You watched Kieran die. You don't get to feel bad about it now.
Hours passed. Servants brought food I couldn't eat. The sun set, painting the mountains blood-red through my window.
Then, finally, I felt him coming.
The bond flared with proximity. My heart started racing even before I heard his footsteps in the hall.
The door opened without a knock.
Caspian filled the doorway, somehow larger and more intimidating in his own territory. He looked tired—the kind of tired that went bone-deep. Through the bond, I felt his headache, his nausea, the way every step cost him more than it should.
The poison was getting worse.
"We need to establish rules," he said without preamble, closing the door behind him.
"Of course. Can't have your prisoner getting too comfortable."
His jaw tightened. "You're not a prisoner. You're my mate. There's a difference."
"Is there? Because I can't leave this room. I can't speak to anyone. I'm surrounded by people who want me dead." I stood, facing him. "Sounds like a prisoner to me."
"You're surrounded by people whose families you've killed." His voice was cold. "This pack has bled for three years because of your kind. You expect them to welcome you with open arms?"
"My kind?" Heat flared in my chest. "Your kind burned settlements. Your kind slaughtered innocents. Don't pretend you're better than us."
"I did what was necessary to protect my pack."
"You ordered children to burn alive!"
The words hung between us like a blade. Through the bond, I felt his guilt spike so sharply it made me gasp.
"Those children were in a strategic target," he said, his voice tight. "We were at war. Mercy gets people killed."
"Mercy is what makes us different from animals!"
"And your mercy got your brother killed." The words were quiet but cut like knives. "So don't lecture me about what war requires."
I moved before thinking, my hand cracking across his face.
The sound echoed in the room.
Caspian's head had barely turned from the impact. He looked back at me slowly, silver eyes blazing. Through the bond, I felt his anger—but also his pain. Not from the slap. From the truth in my words.
"Don't ever," I said, my voice shaking, "use Kieran against me. You don't get to say his name. You don't get to—"
"I think about him every day." The confession burst from Caspian like it had been locked inside too long. "Every single day I see his face when I close my eyes. I see him taking your place on that platform. I see—"
He cut himself off, but too late. Through the bond, the truth flooded through—three years of nightmares, three years of guilt eating him alive, three years of wondering if he'd made the wrong choice.
"You feel guilty," I whispered, the realization hitting me again but stronger now. "All this time, you've been—"
"Stay out of my head." He took a step back, trying to rebuild his walls. But I could feel them now, feel how fragile they really were.
"I can't. That's what this bond does, remember?" I moved closer. "And right now, it's telling me something else. You're sick. Really sick."
His expression went blank. "I don't know what you're—"
"Don't lie. It hurts us both when you lie." I grabbed his arm, and healing magic flared in my palm before I could stop it. The poison lit up under my touch like fire. "Someone's been poisoning you. For months."
Caspian jerked away from me, but I'd already felt enough. Shadowroot mixed with something darker. Slowly killing him while making it look like stress and exhaustion.
"You're wrong," he said.
The bond screamed with his lie. We both flinched.
"Who has access to your food?" I demanded. "Your drink? Who's close enough to—"
"Stop." His voice was hard. "This is exactly what someone trying to divide us would do. Make me suspicious of my own people."
"I'm not trying to divide anything! I'm trying to save your life!"
"Why?" The question stopped me cold. "Why would you care if I live or die? You hate me."
I opened my mouth to deny it, but the bond wouldn't let me lie. "I do hate you. But this bond means your death is my death now. And I'm not ready to die."
Only a partial truth. The bond let it pass, but barely.
"Then we understand each other." Caspian moved to the door. "Here are the rules: You'll appear at my side for all public events. You'll play the role of a proper mate. You'll—"
"Will you at least investigate the poison?"
He paused, his hand on the door handle. Through the bond, I felt his warring emotions—pride that didn't want to admit weakness, fear that I might be right, and anger at needing my help.
"I'll consider it," he finally said. "But you need to understand something, Rhiannon. I don't trust you. I don't trust this bond. And I definitely don't trust whatever game you're playing."
"I'm not playing—"
"Everyone plays games in war. You're just better at hiding it than most." He opened the door. "Dinner is at seven tomorrow. A servant will bring appropriate clothes. Wear them."
He left without another word, the door locking behind him.
I stood alone in my beautiful prison, hand still tingling from where I'd touched him. The poison. Someone close to Caspian was killing him.
Someone who would see me as a threat to their plan.
Which meant I was in more danger than I'd thought.
I reached for the vial in my boot—the shadowroot poison the mysterious woman had given me. Looked at it in the lamplight. If Caspian was already being poisoned, maybe I didn't need to—
Wait.
My blood went cold.
The poison she'd given me was shadowroot. The same base as what was killing Caspian.
Which meant whoever had given it to me knew what was already in his system. Knew I'd be perfectly positioned to finish the job.
They weren't offering me revenge.
They were making me their weapon.
The vial suddenly felt like it was burning through my palm.
A knock sounded at my door—not Caspian this time. Someone else.
"Who is it?" I called, hiding the vial.
"A friend," came a female voice. "Someone who can help you survive this place. May I come in?"
Every instinct screamed danger. But I was trapped here, surrounded by enemies, bound to a man who was dying and didn't know it.
I needed allies.
I opened the door.
The woman from the graveyard stood there, smiling.