Chapter 17 · Price of the Echo

"One breath. If you so much as sneeze, we're both dead," Viviane hissed.

Her hand clamped tight over Silas's mouth, slamming him back against the damp stone of the alcove. He gasped, chest heaving, his back freezing against the wall. Viviane was flush against him—leather armor creaking, her body a sudden, overwhelming heat in the chill of the corridor.

He could smell ozone and rain on her. And something else. Something warm that made his head swim.

*Clank. Clank. Clank.*

Armored boots. Rhythmic. Deadly.

"Silence-Bringers," Silas thought. Not just guards. Bloodhounds trained to sniff out forbidden magic. If they caught a whiff of the bond humming between them, it was over.

Silas tried to shift, but Viviane shoved him harder into the rock. Her eyes, usually cold as ice, were wide. Frantic. Her palm was hot against his lips, the pressure almost painful, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't.

Their bond—the cursed echo of the pact—wasn't just humming. It was screaming. He could feel her heart hammering against her ribs. A frantic, jagged drumbeat that matched his own.

"Stop moving," she breathed.