The first time I saw her, she was stealing from me.

The rain had started at dusk, fine mist threading through the night like an omen. I stood at the edge of the Moonvale Forest, watching the mortal city beyond its borders, its flickering lanterns a stark contrast to the silver glow of my world.

I was only here because of her.

She’d made a mistake tonight. A fatal one. Stealing from a fae was one thing—stealing from me was another. The artifact in her possession was bound to my bloodline, and the moment she touched it, I felt it. Like a thread pulled taut in my chest, yanking me to her no matter how I resisted.

Now, she was running.

Bare feet slamming against the wet cobblestones, breath sharp and ragged in the cold air. I watched her from the shadows, unseen, tracking her with the ease of a predator. She was fast. Impressive. But she was human. And humans, no matter how clever, did not outrun the fae.

She turned sharply into an alley, pressing herself against the damp stone, hands curled around the artifact—a small, gilded sphere, pulsing with ancient power. My power.

I stepped forward. Slowly. Letting her feel the weight of the silence between us.

She sensed me before she saw me, her spine going rigid. And when she turned, eyes wide and brimming with defiance, I almost—almost—smiled.

“That,” I said, voice smooth as the shadows curling at my feet, “does not belong to you.”

Her grip on the artifact tightened. “Finders keepers.”

I exhaled a quiet laugh. Brazen little thing.

The air between us shifted, the magic in her hands flickering like a dying ember. She felt it now—the bond forged the moment she stole from me. A chain neither of us could break.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” I murmured, tilting my head, studying her. That artefact. Stupid little Circe statue bound people in my bloodlines together. Marriage. Soulmates. Those sort of things. And she fucking touched it.

Unfortunately for her, It binds us together.