Chapter 21 · A Crown Where the Bond Died

The crown mark burns through my wrist like someone's holding a lighter to bone.

I'm still standing in Grayson's office. The blade's gone but the air smells like burnt ozone and blood. Silas has his hand on my shoulder and I can feel him trying to pull the power back through the bond. It's not working. The mark keeps eating deeper.

"Stop fighting it." His voice is low. Careful. Like I'm a bomb he's trying to talk down.

"I'm not fighting anything." My teeth are clenched so hard my jaw aches. "It won't stop."

Grayson's on his knees across the room, one hand pressed to his ribs where the blade came close. Rourke's behind him with a gun out but he's not aiming it at me. He's looking at the mark on my wrist. At the way the thorns twist into stars and the stars burn silver-white.

"That's a sovereign mark," Rourke says. His voice is flat. "She's not just bloodline. She's direct line."

Silas doesn't answer. His hand tightens on my shoulder and I feel the bond snap taut between us. Not the contract bond. Something older.