He stares out into the woods as he speaks. “Oath bonds are extraordinarily powerful magic. Meant to elicit responses in the bonded parties almost before they can think. Under the bonded Oaths, decisions become instincts. Thoughts become impulses. Useful in battle, when life and death are decided in split seconds. The Kingsmage Oath links Nicholas and me very deeply. More deeply than I think he and I have ever spoken aloud….” He shakes his head, redirecting himself from a lifetime of memories. “We’ve been Oathed to each other long enough to understand and anticipate the nuances of the bond. When I sense that he’s in danger, I don’t just detect his alarm or fear, I feel it myself as though my life is in danger. That immediacy of a threat, the desperation to live. It’s mine as well as his, so that I am forced to act. And… when he senses my intent to destroy life, he has told me that that intent feels like his own. He hardly has to tell me, honestly; I can see it inside him, in his eyes. The bloodlust. For a few moments, what I want to destroy, he wants to destroy.”

I stiffen, a sick feeling swirling in my stomach. “So, the night of the second trial…”

“By then, everyone could see how Nicholas felt about you. Me more than anyone else, I imagine. I was angry that he wasn’t listening to my warnings, angry that I sensed something was wrong but didn’t have proof.” His eyes blaze when they meet mine. “You remember that I planned our partnership during the trial. Planned to trick you, corner you, and kill you. I knew Nicholas would feel a desire to kill someone that night, because it would come over from me to him through the bond. I planned for him to eventually discover that the person he’d wanted to… was someone he—” He shakes his head, eyes hard. “That it was you.”

For a moment, breath feels impossible. All I can do is remember that night. The rage on Nick’s face, threaded through with fear for me and… pain.

“Nicholas and I know precisely how to hurt each other. As children, we’d manipulate Lord Davis’s regard. Pull rank and title to suit our whims. And that’s outside of the sparring arena. Within it, as his Kingsmage, I could never strike with the intent to harm him, but I’ve given my share of bruises and black eyes and even broken bones. I always fought him in the name of making him a better warrior, better king, better opponent. All worthy intentions, as far as the Oath is concerned.”

A small, dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips; their long rivalry flashes in his eyes. Fights won and lost.