Chapter 5

We weren't in the street anymore. We were on the floor of some chapel side room, stone cold against my back. Her knees were pinned on either side of my hips. Locking me down.

Her sword lay on the floor next to my head. Her palm was flat on my chest—right over the arrow wound.

Except there was no arrow. Just blood soaking through my shirt and her hand burning like a brand against my skin.

"You're bleeding," she snapped. "Why are you still bleeding? We reset!"

"Ask your goddamn curse," I spat. "It brought the hole with us."

She pressed harder. I hissed. Pain shot straight up her arm, and she flinched, her fingers twitching against my skin.

"Stop that!"

"You're the one pressing it!"

"You took an arrow for me," she demanded, her voice tight. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because you owed me and I wanted to collect," I said. "You said you'd pay me back. Remember? You owe me one."

Her eyes went flat. Cold. That High Inquisitor look. Even with her hair falling out of its tie and her breath coming fast, hot against my face.

"Don't be stupid," she said. "I don't owe criminals favors."

"You do now. You grabbed me. Right before the white light. You wouldn't let go."

"I was trying to keep you alive! If you die, I die!"

"Yeah? Felt a lot like you didn't want me to go." I reached up and grabbed her wrist. Her skin was scorching. Mine was slick with sweat and blood. "Admit it, Inquisitor. You were scared."

She twisted her wrist out of my grip and slammed it back down on my chest. The pain spiked. We both gasped, our faces inches apart.

"Shut up," she hissed. "Shut up and let me think."

We were chest to chest. I could feel every shallow breath she took. Her cloak had fallen open. Her forehead was almost touching mine. Cold eyes, hot breath.

The mark on my chest was glowing. I could see it through the blood. A thin red line—like a thread—running from my sternum straight to hers.

"Get off me," I whispered.

"No."

"Viviane. Get off. I can't breathe."

"You can breathe fine. You're talking too much to be suffocating."

She didn't move. If anything, she leaned in closer, staring at the thread of light between us. Her eyes were wide, searching.

"Try to move," she said.

"What?"

"Move. Away from me."

I shoved her shoulders and rolled. I got maybe two feet before something yanked me back. Hard. Like a leash snapping taut around my ribs.

I hit the floor again and she was dragged with me. Her body slammed into mine, her hands catching herself on my chest.

"Okay! Okay!" I groaned. "What the hell was that?"

"Distance limit," she panted. Her face was so close I could see the gold flecks in her iris. Her hair brushed my cheek. "We tried to separate. The pact pulled us back."

"How far did we get? Five feet?"

"Seven," she said. "Maybe eight."

"Great. So we're tied together like dogs."

"Don't be crude."

"I'm bleeding out on a chapel floor tied to the woman who sent me to the block. Crude is all I've got."

She pushed herself up just enough to look down at me. Her cheeks were flushed. From anger or the heat between us, I couldn't tell.

"You think I wanted this?" she asked. "You think I asked to be tethered to a forbidden mage?"

"You hunted me for a year, Viviane. You put that brand on my file. You tell me."

"I was doing my job!"

"Your job was wrong!"

We were shouting now, nose to nose. Her hand was still on my chest and my hand had somehow ended up on her waist, holding her there. Neither of us let go.

"Let go of me," she whispered.

"You let go first."

"I can't. If I let go you'll do something stupid."

"Like what? Die again?"

She stared at me. Her mouth was a hard line, but her eyes kept flicking down to my lips, then to the blood on my neck, then back to my eyes.

"You smiled," she said suddenly. "When the arrow hit you. You smiled and said I owed you."

"Yeah. And you looked like you were gonna throw up."

"I did not."

"You did. You went white. For the big scary Inquisitor, you really hate watching people bleed."

"I hate watching you bleed because I feel it!" she snapped. Her voice cracked. "Every time you get hurt, I feel it. In my chest. Like it's mine. Do you know what that feels like?"

I went still. My hand tightened on her waist without thinking.

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

The thread between us pulsed. Once. Twice. In time with both our hearts. Both of us beating way too fast.

She swallowed. Her throat moved. I watched it.

"We need to break this," she said, low. "Now. Before the next arrest. Before they find us like this."

"How? You got a prayer for un-tying soul chains?"

"Don't mock the See."

"The See mocked me first. Put me on a chopping block for magic I didn't do."

She flinched. Not from pain this time.

"Silas, listen to me," she said. She finally sat up, but she stayed straddling me, her hands braced on my ribs. "This pact. The words that bound us. Did you cast it?"

"No."

"Did I?"

"You tell me, High Inquisitor. You're the expert on forbidden arts."

"I didn't!" She grabbed my collar and shook me. "I would never. It's death to even write it. It's heresy."

"So who did?"

"I don't know! That's what I'm trying to—"

She stopped. Her eyes dropped to my chest. To the glowing thread. She reached down with shaking fingers and yanked my shirt open wider.

"Hey!" I said. "Buy me dinner first."

"Shut up and look."

The mark wasn't just a thread. Up close, it had letters. Tiny, burning script wrapping around the tether like barbed wire. Holy Script. The old language. The one only Cardinals were allowed to write.

Her breath stopped.

"No," she whispered. "No, that's not possible."

"What? What is it?"

"This isn't wild magic," she said, her voice barely there. Her hand was ice cold on my skin. "This is crafted. This is sanctioned. The structure, the binding clause—this is See doctrine. Silas, someone made this pact on purpose. Someone with access to the vault."

"Your people? Your bosses?"

She looked up at me, eyes wide and terrified.

"Only three people can write this script," she said. "The High Inquisitor. The Archbishop. And—"

The chapel bells exploded.

Not one. All of them. Every tower in the Holy City at once. The sound shook the stone under my back.

Viviane jerked, her whole body locking up over mine.

"That's the same," she breathed. "That's what happened right before we reset last time—"

The side door banged open. Boots on stone. A shadow fell across us.

"Viviane? In here? The Cardinal sent me to—"

She didn't finish. She froze, staring at the man in the doorway.

There we were on the floor—me bleeding, Viviane on top of me, the red tether blazing between our chests like a confession.

Viviane's hand flew to her sword.

"Silas, don't move," she whispered, her lips brushing my ear, her breath scorching. "And whatever you do, don't let him see the mark. If he sees it, we're—"