The palace doors had barely shut behind Valkhara when the bond slammed into her chest so hard she staggered.
It wasn’t just the usual hum—familiar and steady, the tether between her and Azric that had always burned sharp. No. This was jagged, clawing, wrong.
Her breath caught. “Azric.”
She didn’t have to call him.
He came to her like a shadow ripped loose from the dark, fast enough to make her heart lurch. His boots struck stone like war drums, his presence thick and suffocating as he closed the distance. When she saw his face, she nearly didn’t recognize him.
His violet eyes were feral, bloodshot from sleeplessness. His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack bone, and his hair was a disheveled mess, like he’d been pacing for days without stopping.
And then—his mind slammed into hers
