(Kael Draven — POV)
Kael had never feared death.
He had stood on battlefields soaked in blood, executed traitors without hesitation, and obeyed orders that would haunt weaker men. Fear was a luxury he had long since discarded.
But standing outside Aelira's chambers, listening to her breathing steady on the other side of the door—
He felt something dangerously close to it.
Too quiet, he thought.
Power like hers was never quiet for long.
He leaned against the stone wall, senses stretched outward, feeling the faint tremor of magic that still lingered in the air. Contained. Controlled. For now.
She had nearly broken last night.
The image refused to leave his mind—her body slamming into the wall, blood staining her dress, shadows turning wild and hungry. If he'd been a second slower—
His jaw tightened.
The ring he'd given her would help. Temporarily. But it was not a solution. Only a delay.
And delays were dangerous.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Kael straightened instantly, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
A guard bowed. "Commander. Her Majesty requests your presence."
Of course she does.
The queen's solar was bright, open, carefully arranged to appear harmless. Queen Seraphine stood by the window, fingers resting lightly on the sill.
"You've been very attentive lately," she said without turning.
Kael said nothing.
"That girl," the queen continued softly. "She seems to draw… loyalty."
Kael's gaze sharpened. "My duty is to the crown."
Seraphine smiled. "Then you'll have no objection to watching her more closely."
A test.
"I already am," Kael replied.
The queen turned at last, eyes cold and knowing. "Good. Because if Princess Aelira loses control again—"
"She won't," Kael said flatly.
A pause.
Seraphine studied him, then laughed quietly. "Such confidence."
Kael met her gaze without flinching.
Because if Aelira fell—
If her power consumed her, or the palace destroyed her—
This kingdom would bleed for it.
He left the solar without another word and returned to the corridor outside her chambers.
Still quiet.
Still breathing.
Only then did the tension ease—just a fraction.
Kael looked at the door, expression unreadable.
"I'll teach you control," he murmured. "Even if I have to defy the crown to do it."
Because he had not spared her life out of mercy.
He had spared it because something inside him recognized the truth—
If she fell, the world would tilt.
And Kael Draven would be the one standing in the wreckage.