The bond changes after the council adjourns, not dramatically, not in a way that announces itself with pain or heat or some sudden rush of emotion, but subtly, like a current shifting direction beneath still water. I feel it the moment Adam and I step out of the chamber and into the quieter corridor beyond, the pressure under my ribs easing into something steadier, more constant, as if the bond has settled into a new understanding of its own shape.
We don’t speak at first, and that feels intentional rather than awkward, because words right now would scrape against something fragile. The packhouse hums around us, evening routines resuming with cautious normalcy, boots echoing faintly against stone, voices low and controlled, and I walk beside him with my shoulders squared, aware of every i
