The knock came at dawn.
Not polite.
Not expected.
Aelira was already awake.
She stood by the window, fingers resting lightly on the sill, when the sound echoed through her chambers—once, firm, followed by the subtle shift of wards being tested.
Her pulse steadied.
So this is today.
"Enter," she said calmly.
The door opened.
Two guards stepped aside—and Kael Draven walked in.
For half a heartbeat, the world stilled.
He looked the same—black armor, controlled posture, eyes sharp—but the road clung to him in dust and silence. He should not have been here. Could not have been here.
Aelira did not move.
Neither did he.
Then the wards flared.
A low hum filled the room, threads of silver light crawling along the walls as the palace reacted to an unauthorized presence.
The guards stiffened.
"Commander," one said uncertainly. "You are not—"
Kael raised a hand.
"Leave," he said.
Authority cut clean through doubt.
They hesitated—then withdrew, sealing the door behind them.
The wards did not relax.
They tightened.
Aelira exhaled slowly. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know," Kael replied.
His gaze searched her face, taking inventory—breathing, posture, the ring still on her finger.
"You came anyway," she said.
"Yes."
The honesty landed harder than anything else.
The hum rose a fraction higher.
Aelira crossed the room, steps measured. "They'll feel this. The queen will feel this."
"I counted on it," Kael said quietly.
She stopped an arm's length away. Too close. Too far.
"You broke your reassignment," she said.
"I broke distance," he corrected. "There's a difference."
The wards surged again, reacting to proximity now—two dangerous variables too close together.
Aelira felt the warmth stir, agitated but controlled.
"Kael," she warned softly, "the room—"
"I know," he said. "Don't anchor to me."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good," he replied, voice low. "Because if you do, they'll know."
Silence stretched—tight, vibrating.
Then footsteps echoed outside.
More guards. Faster. Heavier.
Aelira's eyes sharpened. "They're coming."
Kael's hand brushed her wrist—not to ground, not to command—just a brief, deliberate touch.
"Then listen," he said. "I didn't come to take you."
Her breath caught. "Then why—"
"I came to make sure you're ready."
The wards flared violently—too violent now.
Aelira stepped back, lifting her hand. "Enough."
She focused—not on him, not on the power—but on space. On letting the room breathe.
The hum dropped.
Just enough.
Kael watched her with something like awe. "You did that without me."
She met his gaze. "You taught me."
The door shook.
A voice rang out. "Princess Aelira—open immediately by order of Her Majesty!"
Aelira turned toward the door, calm settling over her like armor.
"Go," she said quietly. "Now."
Kael hesitated.
"I won't be far," he said. "This place—this schedule—it's about to change."
"I know," she replied. "That's why I'm staying."
For one suspended moment, neither moved.
The space between them pulsed—full of everything unsaid.
Then Kael stepped back into the shadows near the window.
"Be careful," he said.
Aelira smiled faintly. "Always."
The window opened without a sound.
Kael vanished.
The door burst open.
Queen Seraphine entered with a composed smile and too many guards.
"My dear," the queen said lightly, eyes sweeping the room. "You seem… flushed."
Aelira inclined her head. "I was just preparing for the day."
Seraphine studied her for a long, searching moment.
Then smiled wider.
"Excellent," the queen said. "Because today, we reconcile."
Aelira returned the smile—slow, precise.
"Of course," she said.
Outside, far from sight, Kael Draven watched the palace from the rooftops.
Distance had broken.
The next time—
It would be the throne.