Okay, this is way more information than I needed, and it hasn’t really answered the heart of my question.

“What about bonds people form between one another?” I ask.

My professor hesitates, then sighs. “You want to know about forged bonds and forced bonds.”

I nod, chewing the inside of my cheek.

“Supernaturals can form magical bonds with one another outside those that are fated from birth. The two types are called forged bonds and forced bonds. They sound similar but they are fairly different. Forged bonds are the lesser of two evils. With these types of bonds, all the parties involved give their explicit consent to the bond formed. Not that this makes the terms of forged bonds necessarily equal. Selling your soul for some heart’s desire is technically a forged bond, though it’s commonly understood that this is no equal exchange. For this reason, forged bonds are heavily discouraged, even between family members or romantic partners.”

Professor Huang gives me a meaningful look, like they can see right through me.

I shift my weight. “Why?” I ask, my anxiety spiking.

Should’ve considered this before I took Memnon up on his own binding spell.

“People change. Hearts change. Creating immutable connections with mutable things can make for hard, unhappy lives.”

“And the other type of bond,” I say hoarsely, unwilling to peer too deeply into that sobering warning. “Can you tell me about that?”

My professor grimaces. “We don’t speak much about forced bonds because of their evil nature. Forced bonds are, as their name implies, forced. They only require the consent of one of the individuals involved, and they can be placed on any other supernatural. There is nothing redeeming about these bonds. They are made to subject their victims to another’s control entirely. Fortunately, they require more power to complete, so the only time these can really happen is with a spell circle.”

I think this is supposed to be reassuring, but it leaves me cold. There are spell circles already in place, and these forced bonds are routinely occurring.

“Needless to say,” Professor Huang adds, “they are the highest class of criminal offense, right up there with murder.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t reassure me either. “What happens if a forced bond is placed on you?” I ask. “How do you undo it?”

“It depends on the terms. But there’s a reason forced bonds are dangerous, forbidden spells. Because if such a spell is placed on you unto death, then only death shall break the bond.”

I cut across Henbane’s main lawn, passing by a coven sister feeding a murder of crows. Several other witches head across the grass with massive, spelled pumpkins bobbing in the air above them like witchy balloons; the pumpkins make dull thunking noises as they bump into one another.

It’s a cute display, but my mind is still in my classroom, mulling over what Professor Huang said. Did Cara, the shifter girl I rushed away from the spell circle, really come that close to being forever under the control of the woman leading it? Is that instructor, Lauren, currently under such a bond? Is Lia solely behind all of it? Was she the high priestess? The questions are going to pick at me.

My eyes still linger absently on those bobbing pumpkins when I feel an unnerving tingling at my back, like a finger stroking down my spine.

Immediately, I look toward the Everwoods, scanning the tree line for the source of the sensation. Amid all the costumed witches, I catch sight of a shadowed individual on the edge of campus. I swear I see a swath of pale gray skin, but no sooner have I blinked than the person is gone.

I hurry the rest of the way to the residence hall, trying to convince myself that I’m not being watched.

My mind drags back to Cara and to the werewolf pack she belongs to. It’s been several days since I last spoke to Kane. I meant to call him before now, but he’s still abiding by the rules of the Sacred Seven, the week surrounding the full moon. That’s when a werewolf’s powers are most potent—and most unpredictable. The pack sequesters themselves during this week for their safety and that of everyone else.

As I cross the foyer and head up the stairs to my room, I grab my phone and scroll to Kane’s number anyway.

It’s time we talked.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 15

“Selene?”

“Kane, hey,” I say as I close the door to my room, caught off guard by his low, gravelly voice. A large part of me wasn’t expecting him to answer the phone considering that today is the final day of the Sacred Seven. I imagined he’d be out in the woods in his animal form.

“How are you doing?” he asks. “I meant to reach out. I heard about…the arrest the other night.” The one he warned me about. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. “It’s fine. They released me and cleared my name.”

“Yeah, I heard about that too. I was relieved to hear it.”

Goddess, but there’s nothing like casually talking about being a murder suspect with your former—current?—crush to really make things awkward.

I clear my throat. “Anyway,” I say, “that night, you mentioned that your pack wanted to speak with me about the night I found Cara.”

“Yeah, we’d love to talk to you about that. I’d need to check with my pack’s alpha, but I could probably call a meeting tomorrow if that works for you? I know there’s sometimes festivities following Samhain, so we can always push it⁠—”

“Tomorrow works,” I say. I can prioritize celebrations another year, when supernaturals aren’t getting bonded and murdered around me.

“Great,” he says, his voice growing a little less gravelly. “Then assuming the pack approves the meeting, I’ll wait for you at the boundary line between our properties at five p.m. tomorrow.”

“All right. I’ll see you then.”

Kane hesitates, then admits, “And in case you forgot some of our call that night, I would still like to see you again.”

My breath catches. I had forgotten, but not in the way he assumes. The memory got buried under everything else I had to deal with in the last three days.

“I still think about that night I came over to your place,” Kane continues, his voice deepening with the admission.

He can’t possibly be referencing the night Memnon tossed him out my bedroom window.

“I’m still so sorry about that⁠—”

“I shouldn’t have left you after the officers came,” the shifter interrupts me. “I should’ve stayed.”

My heart thunders at the thought, but I shake my head. “I wouldn’t have let you.” Memnon was all too willing to hurt Kane.

He’s probably still all too willing.

“That asshole doesn’t scare me.”

I think of the legions of soldiers who lay slaughtered on long-ago fields of wheat, all of them killed by Memnon’s power. I think of the way my former husband took a palace—and the kingdom that came with it—on whim alone. And how dizzyingly easy it was for him to force me to capitulate to his demands. He was raised to be a warrior, and his magic has only made him more lethal.

“He should scare you, Kane. He really should.”

I spend the afternoon in the Everwoods with Sybil and my other coven sisters, setting up the decorations for the festivities tonight. We all either grow or move hundreds of pumpkins along the edges of a makeshift pathway. Though it’s not obvious to the naked eye, a ley line runs along this path. Fairies and spirits often travel these magical roads, and tonight, we’re inviting them onto coven land as honored guests.

Once we’re finished with the pumpkins, we spell lanterns to float in the air above the path, the candles inside each one still unlit.