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Daven’s mouth curved. “No. But I told you what tonight was.” He caught Ryneth’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “And you still walked through the door. Come.”

“Equipment is ready,” Helianth called out.

“Equipment?” Ryneth’s voice went hoarse. He stumbled as Daven guided him toward the center of the room. “No. No. You didn’t mention that…”

“And it’s not meant to hurt,” Milanov reassured. “But it will engrave Daven in you, and you in Daven. Bring the drinks.”

Somewhere in the background, servants rushed in with trays.

“Good luck with this one. You lucky fucker, getting bonded before I do,” Helianth grumbled. “If I ever get the chance.” He held up the ribbon. “Ready?”

“No,” Ryneth mumbled.

“Yes,” Daven said at the same time. He winked at his aethera, then caught both of Ryneth’s hands and laced his ringed fingers through his.

“Will it hurt?” Ryneth’s voice sounded small, and Daven inhaled his hesitation. It made his teeth ache.

“Maybe a little.” He drew the ribbon tight around their wrists. “Keep your palm like that, beautiful. Don’t move.”

The pale band curled on its own, winding higher, tightening with every breath until their wrists were bound bone to bone. When Ryneth tried to pull back, it followed, flexing like it was alive and refusing to let them part.

“What’s happening?” Ryneth’s voice rose. “What is this⁠—”

“Stay still.” Daven tightened his hold. “It only bites if you fight it.”

The moment their palms pressed fully together, heat sparked between them. Daven felt Ryneth jolt.

His breath caught hard enough to sound like pain, and Daven watched the reaction race through him, first the rigid line of his shoulders, then the sharp pull in his throat, then the way his fingers tried to curl and couldn’t.

It wasn’t pain. Not at first. It was pressure. Recognition. Something waking beneath Ryneth’s skin and meeting its match.

Daven saw the ribbon draw tighter around their joined hands. Light flickered beneath Ryneth’s skin, threading through his wrist like something alive.

“Oh.” Ryneth’s eyes widened. He licked his lips without looking away. “I can feel something.”

“Yeah?” Daven’s own breath roughened. “I feel it too.”

The heat built fast, pulsing between their joined hands. Daven felt Ryneth’s static answer it. Felt his own wind rise in instinct, not outward this time, but inward, threading through the space between their palms until the current became one hard, humming line.

“Are you sure you want this?” Ryneth whispered. “With me?”

Daven stared at him. “Yes.”

The heat flared brighter.

Ryneth’s breath broke as tears gathered in his silver eyes.

“Almost done,” Daven murmured. “Stay with me.”

“It’s the d-drugs, I think.”

“Oh, you think?” someone snickered.

“Helion customs, baby,” Helianth said. “We love our opium.”

The mechanism buzzed softly, but Daven barely heard it. He only watched Ryneth. Watched the glow bloom beneath their skin. Watched the heat climb until Ryneth’s knees almost buckled.

Around them, glasses lifted and voices rose, but none of it mattered.