The notice was revised before sunset.
Not publicly.
Not loudly.
It arrived the way all dangerous things did—quiet, reasonable, sealed with authority.
Veyla received it while standing by the window, the citadel's inner courtyards spread below her like a living diagram of order. She read the document once, then again, fingers still.
Reassigned proximity sessions.
Optimized rotation.
Subjective response stabilization.
Two columns followed.
One marked with the sigil of the Northern Clans.
The other with the Crimson Court seal.
Her chest warmed faintly as her eyes traced the dates.
Split.
Balanced.
Managed.
Zora, seated nearby, leaned over just enough to read it upside down. "Ah," the witch murmured. "They've decided to share the medicine."
Veyla folded the parchment carefully. "They've decided to ration me."
Zora smiled thinly. "Same thing. Nicer font."
⸻
Khorg Ironmaw did not receive the notice with calm.
The parchment crumpled slightly in his grip as he read, jaw tightening with each line. Reassigned hours. Reduced flexibility. Formalized intervals.
No consultation.
No consent.
"This is unacceptable," he said flatly.
His second-in-command hesitated. "The orders come from the Crimson Court, Alpha. They've framed it as—"
"—stability," Khorg finished bitterly. "I know."
His wolf surged, hackles rising.
Territory.
Threat.
The idea of someone else determining *when* he was allowed to be near her—near enough to endure the ache, near enough to keep the bond from hollowing him out—ignited something dark in his chest.
This wasn't protection.
It was ownership.
Khorg straightened abruptly. "Prepare my escort."
The command echoed sharp and final.
⸻
Vinculus Noctaryn was already expecting him.
He stood at the far end of the council antechamber, posture immaculate, expression composed. The air around him was cool, controlled—sigils faintly humming beneath polished stone.
When Khorg entered, the temperature in the room seemed to drop another degree.
"Alpha," Vinculus greeted smoothly. "You received the revision."
"You didn't ask," Khorg replied, stopping well short of the inner marks. His voice was steady, but the wolf snarled beneath it.
"I didn't need to," Vinculus said. "The structure benefits her."
"And you," Khorg snapped.
Vinculus inclined his head slightly. "And me."
Silence stretched, tight and dangerous.
"You're using access to condition us," Khorg said. "You're turning proximity into currency."
Vinculus's eyes flickered—just once. "I'm preventing collapse."
"By deciding when relief is permitted?" Khorg shot back. "That's not prevention. That's control."
Vinculus's tone cooled further. "Control is what stands between her and awakening."
The word landed heavy.
Khorg stiffened. "You don't know that."
"I know patterns," Vinculus replied calmly. "Comfort is accelerating adaptation. Adaptation leads to permission."
Khorg felt a cold jolt of recognition.
"You felt it too," Vinculus continued quietly. "The easing. The warmth."
Khorg did not deny it.
"That warmth," Vinculus said, "is not mercy. It's erosion."
Khorg's fists clenched.
"Then why are you monopolizing it?" he demanded.
"I'm not," Vinculus said. "I'm regulating it."
"For yourself."
"For her."
"For *me*," Vinculus admitted without shame. "Because chaos helps no one."
Khorg took a step forward—and stopped himself.
The bond flared warningly, a low thrum beneath his skin.
Vinculus watched with clinical interest.
"See?" he murmured. "You already rely on the structure you resent."
The truth of it burned.
⸻
Veyla felt the confrontation before she heard about it.
The warmth beneath her ribs sharpened abruptly, pulsing with unfamiliar tension—two vectors pulling at once. Her breath caught as the bond recalibrated, not painfully, but insistently.
Zora looked up from her tea. "Oh. They've met."
Veyla closed her eyes briefly. "They're fighting over the schedule."
"Of course they are," Zora said. "Time is the last polite form of possession."
Veyla opened her eyes.
Then she moved.
⸻
The antechamber doors opened quietly.
Both men turned.
Veyla stepped inside alone.
The bond surged—warmth flaring sharp and sudden as the geometry of the room changed. She stopped immediately, grounding herself, breath slow and deliberate.
Khorg's stomach clenched reflexively.
Vinculus's blood tightened, cold and sharp.
"Princess," Vinculus said, composed. "You shouldn't—"
"I should," Veyla replied calmly.
She held their gazes in turn.
"You're arguing over hours," she continued, voice steady. "As if time itself belongs to you."
Khorg's jaw flexed. "You shouldn't have been excluded."
"And yet I was," Veyla said. "By both of you."
The bond pulsed, heavy and attentive.
Vinculus tilted his head. "This structure is meant to protect you."
"It protects your *theories*," Veyla replied. "Not my agency."
Silence fell.
She took one careful step forward—enough to be felt, not enough to break protocol.
The warmth surged, intense but controlled.
Both men reacted.
Khorg's wolf surged, restless and alert.
Vinculus's composure tightened, pupils narrowing slightly.
"I will not be scheduled like a resource," Veyla said quietly. "And I will not allow my proximity to become leverage."
Khorg exhaled sharply. "Then what do you want?"
Veyla did not hesitate.
"I choose," she said. "Not permanently. Not exclusively. But *situationally*."
Vinculus's eyes narrowed. "That introduces volatility."
"It introduces responsibility," Veyla countered.
She turned to Khorg. "When instinct is the risk, I will step back."
She turned to Vinculus. "When control becomes a cage, I will push."
The bond pulsed—strong, resonant.
Something shifted.
Zora's voice drifted from the doorway, amused and dangerous. "Well. That's new."
Vinculus studied Veyla for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he nodded. "A trial period."
Khorg frowned. "You're agreeing?"
Vinculus's gaze remained fixed on Veyla. "I'm curious."
Curiosity, from a vampire king, was never benign.
Veyla felt the warmth settle—not easing, not tightening.
Balanced.
For now.
As the meeting broke, Khorg caught her gaze briefly—gratitude and worry tangled together.
Vinculus watched her leave, mind already calculating.
She had claimed the hours.
Which meant the next move would determine who truly controlled the bond.
And whether choice would be enough to stop what was quietly learning to wake.