Chapter 6 · Cracks in the Inquisitor

"Don't you fucking move."

The door slammed open, bouncing off the wall with a crack. Captain Brandt filled the doorway, sword half-out of its sheath, eyes wide.

Viviane and I were still fused. Chest to chest. That red cord of light hummed between us, burning like a live wire. Her hand was fisted in my shirt; my hand was locked on her waist. If I let go, I’d hit the floor.

Brandt stared. His jaw actually dropped.

"High Inquisitor?" he stammered. "What—what is this?"

"It's not what it looks like," Viviane snapped. Her voice cracked. She shoved me, but the cord yanked us right back together. "Get off me!"

"Oh, I'm trying," I spat. Pain flared in my side where the last loop's knife wound was still throbbing. "Trust me, princess, this isn't my idea of a date."

"Silas," she hissed. "Shut up."

Brandt’s sword cleared the scabbard. Pointed straight at my throat. "Step away from her, mage. Now."

"Can't," I said. "Really. Wish I could."

"He's bound," Viviane said, too fast. Her cheeks were flushed. I could feel her heart hammering against my ribs—literally. The pact made sure of that. "It's a containment protocol. For the prisoner. I was...