The court did not explode.
It cracked.
That was worse.
By evening, whispers threaded through every corridor—nobles gathering in corners, servants speaking in half-sentences, mages arguing behind closed doors. No one accused the queen aloud.
But no one defended her either.
Aelira felt it as she walked the palace halls.
Eyes lingered.
Bows were slower.
Smiles were cautious.
Power was shifting.
Queen Seraphine did not summon her.
That silence spoke volumes.
Instead, orders rippled outward—council meetings postponed, inspections delayed, alliances "reconsidered." Cassian Vale did not appear at supper. Two lesser nobles departed the palace before nightfall.
Sides were forming.
And the throne was no longer the center.
Kael found Aelira in the west colonnade as dusk bled into night.
No guards close enough to hear.
Too many far enough to see.
"You broke the room," he said quietly.
"I nudged it," Aelira replied. "It wanted to break."
He studied her, something unreadable in his eyes. "You planned that longer than you let on."
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me."
"No."
Silence stretched.
Then Kael exhaled—slow, controlled. "Good."
She turned, surprised.
"I didn't need to protect you," he continued. "I needed to trust you."
Aelira's pulse shifted. "And do you?"
He stepped closer. "I do now."
The words landed heavier than any oath.
They moved into the narrow alcove between pillars, shadows pooling around their feet. The palace noise faded, leaving only breath and proximity.
"You should have waited," Kael said softly. "It was dangerous."
"I know."
"You could have lost everything."
"I know."
His voice lowered. "You could have lost me."
That stopped her.
Aelira met his gaze, steady but unguarded. "You chose to come back."
"Yes."
"You chose to disobey."
"Yes."
She took a step closer—deliberate, unhurried. "Then don't pretend this was about protection."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You make it difficult to lie."
"Then don't," she whispered.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Then Kael reached for her—not roughly, not hesitantly—but with certainty, one hand bracing at her waist, the other lifting her chin just enough to meet her eyes.
"This," he said quietly, "changes things."
"Yes," Aelira replied. "It does."
He leaned in—
And stopped.
Control snapped back like a blade sheathed too late.
"Not here," he said hoarsely. "Not like this."
Aelira's lips curved, soft and dangerous. "You're afraid."
"Yes," Kael admitted.
"Good," she said. "So am I."
They stood there, breaths close enough to tangle, restraint stretched thin but unbroken.
Behind them, unseen, the palace continued to shift—alliances bending, loyalties wavering.
Ahead of them—
Fire.
That night, Queen Seraphine watched the city from her balcony, expression carved from ice.
"They are choosing her," she said softly.
The king did not answer.
"Very well," the queen continued. "If the court wishes to fracture—"
Her smile returned.
"—we will give them a reason to unite."
Far below, Aelira extinguished the candle in her chambers and pressed her forehead briefly to the cool glass.
The court was breaking.
And so was the distance between her and the man she had tried not to want.
The next move would not be subtle.
And neither would the cost.