(Kael Draven — POV)
The north was quiet.
Too quiet.
Kael stood on the watchtower as dawn bled pale across the horizon, armor cold against his skin, eyes scanning a border that had not moved in a decade.
He had been sent here to be forgotten.
The queen had miscalculated.
Distance did not dull his instincts.
It honed them.
The token warmed faintly against his chest.
Not urgent.
Not a recall.
Just presence.
Alive. Watched. Thinking.
Kael exhaled slowly.
She was adapting.
Of course she was.
The image of her alone in that gilded cage—walking predictable paths, speaking measured words, hiding sharpness behind stillness—tightened something in his chest he refused to name.
They thought separation would make her smaller.
They were wrong.
A lieutenant approached quietly. "Commander. A courier arrived at dawn."
Kael took the sealed message, breaking it without ceremony.
Queen Seraphine has accelerated internal containment protocols.
Multiple wards redirected to the inner palace.
Princess Aelira under constant observation.
His jaw tightened.
Containment meant fear.
Fear meant mistakes.
Kael folded the parchment and burned it in the brazier.
"Double the patrols," he ordered. "Quietly."
The lieutenant hesitated. "Sir… this isn't our jurisdiction."
Kael's gaze cut to him.
"It is now."
That night, the wind carried whispers.
Not magic.
Rumors.
A visiting councilor. A revised ceremony schedule. A private audience being prepared "for reconciliation."
Kael knew better.
The queen did not reconcile.
She consumed.
The token warmed again—brief, controlled.
Tomorrow.
Kael closed his eyes for one heartbeat.
Tomorrow meant a move.
A public one.
"Prepare my horse," he said calmly.
The lieutenant blinked. "Sir? The watch—"
"I'll return before dawn," Kael replied. "If I don't—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Hours later, alone beneath a sky stitched with stars, Kael rode south without banners, without escort. Just a shadow moving where it shouldn't.
Distance had rules.
So did loyalty.
And Kael had already chosen which ones he would break.
As the palace lights appeared faintly on the horizon, the token burned hot against his skin.
Not pain.
Permission.
"I'm coming," he murmured into the night. "Not because you called."
Because I won't let them corner you alone.
The road swallowed the sound of hooves.
And far away, beneath watchful eyes and smiling lies, Aelira prepared for a morning that would change everything—
Unaware that the distance meant to weaken her
had already become a blade aimed at the throne.