(Kael Draven — POV)
Kael watched from the shadow of the colonnade as the servants dispersed.
They were smiling.
That, more than anything else, unsettled him.
He had seen fear ripple through the palace halls more times than he could count. Fear was familiar. Predictable. Easy to control.
This was different.
Princess Aelira stood at the center of it all, calm and composed, speaking softly as if she belonged there—among flour-dusted hands and bowed heads. No magic. No authority invoked.
Just presence.
Just choice.
She's rewriting the rules, he thought.
And the queen hated that.
Kael folded his arms, eyes tracking every movement around her. He noted the servants who lingered too long, the steward who pretended not to listen, the guard who watched with narrowed eyes.
Threats. All of them.
When Aelira finally turned away, he straightened instinctively, ready to intercept anything that came too close.
Nothing did.
Because people stepped aside for her.
Respectfully.
His jaw tightened.
She didn't need him there.
That realization hit harder than it should have.
Later, alone in the armory, Kael removed his gloves slowly, methodically. The quiet helped him think.
The queen would retaliate.
Not immediately. Not obviously.
Seraphine was patient when it suited her.
And Aelira had just painted a target on herself made of goodwill and fragile loyalties.
Kael clenched his fist.
He had sworn to protect the crown.
He had never sworn to protect a girl who smiled at servants and made an empire nervous.
And yet—
He would.
He leaned back against the cold stone wall, staring at the ceiling.
You're proud of her, a traitorous voice in his head said.
Kael exhaled sharply.
Pride was dangerous. Pride led to hesitation. To mercy. To mistakes.
And he had never made mistakes.
That night, he found her on the garden path, moonlight silvering the leaves overhead.
"You didn't tell me," he said quietly.
Aelira glanced up, unsurprised. "I didn't need permission."
"No," he agreed. "You didn't."
They walked in silence for a few steps.
"You scared them today," Kael continued.
She smiled faintly. "Good."
"You scared me," he added.
She stopped.
Turned to face him.
"That wasn't my intention."
"I know," he said. "That's why it worked."
For a moment, he let himself look at her—not as a threat, not as a responsibility, but as a woman standing alone in a palace that wanted her smaller.
"You chose people," Kael said. "Not power."
Aelira met his gaze steadily. "Power is easier."
"Yes," he replied. "And that's why the queen understands it."
Silence settled between them, deep and heavy.
"If this ends badly," Aelira said softly, "you'll be punished for standing with me."
Kael didn't hesitate.
"I already chose," he said.
Her breath caught—just slightly.
He noticed.
And hated himself for noticing.
"I'll watch the court tonight," he added, turning away before the moment stretched too far. "If anyone moves—"
"I trust you," she said.
The words landed quietly.
Decisively.
Kael stopped.
Trust was not something he had ever been given lightly.
He nodded once, unable to speak.
As he walked away, the truth settled in his chest like a blade he would never pull free:
She had chosen kindness.
And he had chosen her.
Whether the kingdom survived that choice or not.