Chapter Text
The week before the War Games, the air at Basgiath felt heavy, charged with tension. Rumors of past cadets who hadn’t made it back alive drifted through the halls like smoke.
But in Bodhi’s room, it was quieter. He sat half-reclined on his bed, a book resting across his lap, glancing at the door from time to time as though waiting for someone—or something. When he finally rose, reluctantly, to turn off the light, shadows slipped through the gap beneath the door. They stretched across the floor and curled up to the edge of his bed, nudging him like eager pets. He stroked them lazily with a gentle smile, watching them shiver and coil, like cats purring under their favorite human’s hand.
“Where is your master?” he murmured, letting the shadows curl around his arms and weave between his fingers. They felt like cool silk against his skin, like walking through the morning mist in the Vale.
He had just heard the door handle click and felt the ward ripple when Xaden stepped inside. The shadows rustled at his entrance, tugging impatiently at Bodhi as though announcing their master. Bodhi laughed quietly and brushed them down.
Xaden crossed the room without a word and sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, onyx eyes lowered, fixed on the floor. Brooding.
“Why are you sulking again?” Bodhi asked. Xaden didn’t react.
“Is it because of your training with Sorrengail?” Still nothing.
“Xaden Riorson, I don’t have a mind-reading signet,” he said, sitting up straighter. The shadows trembled and curled tighter, as if asking for gentleness.
Bodhi sighed, set the book aside, and finally leaned closer until he wrapped his arms around him. “Say something,” he warned lightly. “Or I’ll kiss your shadows.”
The shadows rippled in anticipation. Xaden glared at them, clearly resenting his traitorous subconscious.
After a few seconds, he exhaled but still looked restless. “It’s the War Games,” he muttered, mouth pressed thin, the cat-like sulk sharper tonight. “It’s wings against wings, not just a duel on the sparring mat. A saddle won’t guarantee she won’t fall.”
“Liam is with her, isn’t he?”
“He’s still a first-year, and his signet is farsight. He can’t counter ice, fire, wind—anything the seconds and thirds might throw at her.” Xaden’s jaw worked, though he leaned closer.
“All right,” Bodhi said softly. “I have an idea. You won’t like it.”
Xaden’s eyes flicked up, tense, already reading his intention. The shadows curled tightly at Bodhi’s sides, pressing in until he stroked them, coaxing them quiet again.
“Come on,” Bodhi reasoned. “You need her alive to fulfill your deal with the general, and I need her alive so you keep breathing.”
Xaden’s jaw only tightened. Even the shadows bristled, restless, echoing the anger he wouldn’t speak aloud.
“I guard her with my signet,” Bodhi continued evenly. “It’s the most effective and convenient way.”
Xaden’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare. “No.” The word landed sharp and final. “You’re not wasting yourself on her.”
“It’s not wasting,” Bodhi countered calmly. He leaned back against the headboard, stroking the shadow stiffening across his arm. “You need her alive, and you’re sulking because you can’t guarantee it. Your attention should stay on leading the wing. If I go with her, she’ll survive without pulling you apart.”
Xaden’s jaw flexed, silent fury in the way he breathed. “You think I’d put you in that position? Risk you—” He cut himself off, shadows snapping like whips before settling again. His voice dropped, rough. “No. Not her. Not with you.”
Bodhi held his gaze evenly, unfazed by the sulking, dangerous cat coiled in front of him. “It’s strategy, Xaden. Nothing more. You don’t have to like it. But it would work.”
The shadows coiled tight around Bodhi’s wrist, possessive, as if trying to chain him to Xaden’s side.
“You’re thinking with your temper, not the board,” Bodhi said evenly. “If I stay close, it’s effective. Any cadet who tries to strike her loses their edge before they can touch her. Illusions break. Flames gutter. Icicles disappear. She’d barely need to lift her daggers. All she needs to do is stay on her saddle until the horn calls it over.”
Xaden’s glare sharpened, but Bodhi pressed on, voice steady, patient. “It’s clean. It doesn’t pull you off command. And it keeps her alive without you draining yourself on every flank.” He tilted his head slightly, fingers stroking a strand of shadow curled at his wrist. “You know I’m right. My signet was made for this.”
The shadows writhed, restless, almost sulking at the picture Bodhi painted—him at Violet’s side, risking himself for her.
“I won’t have you guarding her,” Xaden bit out, low and rough.
“It isn’t about her,” Bodhi said softly, eyes steady. “It’s about you. Keeping you free to fight, to command, to stay alive without any sudden accidents.”
Xaden didn’t answer right away. His shadows pressed hard against Bodhi’s arms as if trying to pin him in place, his eyes burning with a fury deeper than logic.
“I know it’s reasonable,” he said finally, voice low and ragged. “You’re right—your signet would cut them off before they even touched her. On the board, it’s the perfect move.”
Bodhi arched a brow, waiting for the inevitable but.
“But it puts you in the line first,” Xaden growled. “Every strike meant for her would come for you instead. Every cadet who wants her dead would have to go through you. And I won’t have that.” His throat worked, sharp with unspoken anger. “I won’t let you be their target.”
Bodhi exhaled, brushing a shadow away from his wrist until it settled. “So it’s not that you doubt me. It’s that you’d rather take every strike yourself.”
“Damn right.” Xaden’s jaw clenched. The shadows trembled where they curled around Bodhi’s legs, sulky and unsettled. “If she has to be carried, I’ll carry her. Not you.”
Bodhi’s voice softened, threading through the tension like balm. He let the shadows curl up his wrist again and stroked one as though it were a restless cat.
“You know I can protect myself,” he said quietly, steady—not challenging, not mocking, just truth.
Xaden’s eyes flicked to him, sharp and sulking, but Bodhi didn’t look away.
“I’m Tail XO for a reason,” he added, coaxing the shadow down until it stilled under his hand. “I’ve fought challenges. I’ve won them. If someone comes for her and I’m there, they’ll hit a wall they can’t push through.”
The shadows hummed under his palm, soothed by his touch though they pressed closer, greedy for it.
Xaden’s hands flexed against his knees, fury banked into something tighter, more dangerous. “That doesn’t mean I’ll let them line you up as their mark.” His voice dropped, bitter. “You’re mine to guard, not theirs to test.”
Bodhi smiled faintly, tired but warm. “Then guard me here. Let me guard her there. That’s balance, Xaden.”
The shadows pulsed, torn between sulking and purring.
Before Xaden could answer, a shadow strand flicked up and slapped lightly against Bodhi’s cheek—not hard, just a sharp, petulant tap, like a sulking cat batting a hand away. Another curled across his ribs in a squeeze, almost scolding.
Bodhi blinked, then huffed out the smallest laugh. “See?” he murmured, stroking the strand that had struck him. “Even they don’t like the idea.”
The shadows pressed closer, insistent, wrapping him tighter as if to prove their point—protective, possessive.
Xaden’s expression didn’t soften—if anything, it darkened, though not at Bodhi. “They’re right,” he said, voice low. “They know you shouldn’t be at her side.”
Bodhi kept petting the restless strand until it purred again, his smile wry. “Or maybe they just want some love and assurance.”
Xaden glared at him but still leaned closer and kissed him fiercely.