Morning crept in slowly, thin silver light slipping through the cracks in the ruined stone where they had taken shelter. The air was cold, carrying the faint smell of dust and old smoke. Somewhere beyond the broken walls, something shifted, then went quiet again.
Ayra woke with a sharp inhale.
Her body felt stiff, every muscle sore as if she had been running for days without rest. Her mind, however, felt heavier. Fragments of memory floated just beneath the surface, refusing to settle, refusing to stay buried. Sensations returned before thoughts did, pulling her fully awake.
Warmth.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Not the chill of dawn or the ache in her bones, but warmth. Steady. Grounding. Close. The bond pulsed softly in her chest, no longer frantic or overwhelming like the night before. It felt aware now. Present. Almost settled. Intimate in a way that made her chest tighten without warning.
She swallowed and turned her head slightly.
Alric lay beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body without touching him. One arm was bent beneath his head, the other resting nearby, relaxed in a way she had not expected. His face looked different in sleep. Less sharp. Less controlled. Less like the enemy prince carved into every story she had been told since childhood.
That realization unsettled her more than the danger ever had.
She had been raised to fear him. To hate what he represented. Yet here he was, breathing slowly, unguarded, close enough that the bond connected every rise and fall of his chest to her own.
Ayra shifted slightly, testing her body, and immediately the bond responded. A gentle pull spread through her chest. Not painful. Not urgent. Just a reminder.
She froze.
Still bound. Still tethered. Still unable to pretend any of this had been a dream.
Alric stirred beside her, his breath hitching as awareness returned. His eyes opened slowly, dark and alert despite the early hour. The moment their gazes met, the bond tightened. Subtle. Possessive. A quiet acknowledgement that they were both awake now.
Neither of them spoke.
Words felt dangerous. Fragile. As if speaking too soon might shatter something neither of them understood yet.
"You're awake," he said finally, his voice low and rough from sleep.
Ayra nodded once. Her throat felt tight. "So are you."
Silence fell again, heavier this time. The bond hummed between them, carrying echoes of shared sensations and shared vulnerability. She hated that she could still feel it, the ghost of how close they had been, how easily the bond had erased boundaries she had spent her whole life building.
Alric sat up slowly, deliberate in every movement, as though aware that one wrong shift could send the bond spiraling again. "We shouldn't have stayed," he said. "This place isn't safe."
Ayra pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. "Neither are you."
The words came out sharper than she intended, edged with fear she did not want him to hear.
He didn't flinch.
"I know," he said quietly.
That was worse than denial.
She stood abruptly, pacing the narrow shelter, her steps restless and uneven. "You don't get to look at me like that," she said. "Like this changes everything."
"It does," he replied.
She stopped and turned. "No. It doesn't."
The bond pulsed once, slow and heavy, betraying her.
Alric rose to his feet, careful and measured, as if approaching something fragile rather than standing across from her. "The bond doesn't distinguish between moments and meaning," he said. "What happened wasn't temporary. It deepened it."
Her stomach twisted. "So now what? I'm supposed to pretend I didn't feel everything you felt? That I don't know how easily you can…"
"Claim?" he finished softly.
Ayra's jaw tightened. The word hit too close to something she had not wanted to name.
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. The bond drew taut between them, not painful, but firm. Insistent. "I didn't force you."
"No," she snapped. "The bond did."
"And yet you didn't resist."
The truth of that struck harder than she wanted to admit. She turned away immediately.
"Don't do that," she said.
"Do what?"
"Make it sound like I chose you."
Alric was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, stripped of command. "You chose not to run."
Ayra swallowed, her chest tight.
Before she could respond, sound drifted through the ruins outside. Footsteps. Voices. Too many to ignore.
Alric's posture shifted instantly, all softness gone. His attention sharpened. "We're not alone."
The bond reacted at once. Adrenaline surged through her body, but it was not just hers. She felt his readiness, his focus, his instincts aligning with hers. The pull between them adjusted, steadying her movements.
She hated how natural it felt.
They moved together without speaking, slipping through broken stone and shadowed corridors. Ayra's breathing matched his without effort. Every step, every pause, every flicker of tension in his body translated through the bond like a second heartbeat.
They hid behind a collapsed wall as soldiers passed through the street. Enemy colors. Armed. Searching.
Ayra pressed herself into the stone, heart pounding. Alric stood close behind her, angled protectively without touching her. The bond tightened, grounding her fear, anchoring her to him in a way that made her chest ache.
"This is what it does," she whispered bitterly. "It makes me depend on you."
"It makes us survive," he murmured.
She glanced back at him. "At what cost?"
Their eyes met. The bond stilled, waiting.
Alric did not answer.
When the soldiers finally moved on, the tension did not fade. It followed them as they left the ruins, heavier than before.
They walked for a long time in silence. The land opened into broken fields and abandoned paths, remnants of villages scattered like scars. Ayra's thoughts churned, questions pressing harder the farther they went.
She broke the silence at last. "When this war ends," she said, "what happens to us?"
Alric slowed. "If the bond remains?"
"Yes."
He looked ahead. "Then neither kingdom will accept you."
She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "They already don't."
"And mine will call you a weakness," he continued. "A liability. Something to remove."
Ayra stopped walking. "You say that like it doesn't bother you."
He turned fully to face her. "It terrifies me."
The honesty caught her off guard. The bond pulsed in response.
"The bond doesn't just tie our bodies," he went on. "It ties consequence. If they hurt you, I feel it. If they use you, they control me."
Her chest tightened. "So I'm a weapon now."
"Yes," he said. "And so are you."
They stood there, the weight of it settling between them.
Ayra exhaled slowly. "I never wanted power."
"I never wanted a crown," he replied.
The bond pulsed softly, almost approving.
For the first time since waking, something unexpected settled beneath her fear and resentment.
Resolve.
"Then maybe," she said quietly, "we stop letting other people decide what the bond means."
Alric studied her, something dark and intense passing through his gaze. "That path will burn everything."
"Good," she replied. "I'm tired of surviving quietly."
A slow smile touched his lips. Not cruel. Not gentle. Dangerous in its certainty. "Then stay close," he said. "The bond listens when we agree."
Ayra turned and walked forward.
This time, she did not pull away when the bond followed.