“Well,” he said lightly. “You look like hell.”
“I severed the bond,” I replied.
His eyes sharpened.
“And Kael let you live?”
“For now,” I said. “But he controls my father’s spirit anchor. I need your altar. The Moon-root beneath Blackfang lands—it can bind his soul.”
Silence stretched between us.
“You’re asking to merge bloodlines,” Nicero said at last. “That’s not a favor. That’s a war declaration.”
“I don’t care.”
“Do you even understand what a contract bond costs?” he murmured. “You’ll lose your claim to Silvermoon. You’ll become mine in the eyes of the Moon. There will be no returning to what you were.”
I laughed softly, without humor. “What I was is already dead.”
His gaze held mine through the sigil fire. Slowly, a smile curved his mouth—dangerous, unreadable.
“Seven nights,” he said. “Cross the Frostline Pass before the Moon reaches its zenith. If you’re late, I won’t open the wards.”
“And my father?”
“He will be transferred under Blackfang protection,” Nicero replied. “But the binding won’t hold unless you complete the bond.”
My throat tightened. “You’re certain?”
“I never offer certainty,” he said. “Only leverage.”
The sigil faded.
I exhaled shakily and turned from the shrine.