The first scream cut through the palace just after midnight.
Aelira was already awake.
She sat upright in bed the moment the sound echoed through stone corridors—sharp, terrified, real. Not court drama. Not rumor.
Blood.
Her door burst open a second later.
"Your Highness," a guard said urgently, composure cracked, "there's been an incident in the lower wing."
Aelira was already on her feet.
They met in the corridor.
Kael emerged from the shadows like a blade drawn too fast—armor half-fastened, expression lethal.
"You heard it," he said.
"Yes."
Another scream followed—closer this time.
Kael grabbed her wrist. "Stay behind me."
"Don't," Aelira snapped quietly. "We move together."
Their eyes locked.
Then he nodded once.
The lower wing was chaos.
Servants crowded the far end of the hall, faces pale, whispers shaking. Blood stained the marble floor in a dark, spreading pool.
At its center—
A body.
Aelira recognized him instantly.
Lord Halvar.
A minor noble.
One of the first to hesitate during the court fracture.
A knife protruded from his chest.
Clean. Precise.
A message.
Queen Seraphine arrived moments later, flanked by guards and mages, her face stricken with perfect horror.
"What is this?" she demanded.
Kael's gaze never left the body. "An execution."
The queen turned sharply. "Careful, Commander."
Kael finally looked at her.
"This was done with royal steel," he said calmly. "Ceremonial dagger. Restricted access."
A murmur swept the hall.
Aelira stepped forward.
"You wanted unity," she said softly. "This is how you chose to create it?"
Gasps followed.
The queen's eyes flashed. "How dare you—"
Aelira didn't raise her voice.
"You killed a man," she continued, "because he hesitated."
Silence fell—heavy, suffocating.
Queen Seraphine's smile vanished.
"So," she said quietly, "you've decided to accuse me."
"No," Aelira replied. "I've decided not to look away."
For a moment, it felt like the palace itself was holding its breath.
Then Seraphine laughed.
Low. Cold.
"Very well," the queen said. "Let the court see what happens when order is questioned."
She turned sharply. "Seal the wing. No one leaves."
Guards moved at once.
This was no longer politics.
This was war.
Later, much later, the corridors emptied—but the tension did not.
Aelira stood in the small chapel near the west wing, candles flickering softly. She hadn't realized she'd come here until she stopped walking.
Kael followed minutes later.
He closed the door behind them.
"She crossed a line," he said.
"Yes."
"She wanted fear."
"She got blood," Aelira replied.
Kael turned to her fully now, anger barely restrained. "You can't keep standing in front of her blade."
"You stood with me," she said.
"That's exactly why," he snapped.
Silence flared between them—hot, sharp, raw.
"You almost kissed me," Aelira said quietly.
Kael stilled.
"That's not—"
"You leaned in," she continued. "Don't deny it."
His jaw tightened. "This is not the moment."
"When will it be?" she asked softly. "After more bodies?"
He stepped closer.
"Every time I look at you," he said lowly, "I have to decide which oath I'm going to break."
Her breath hitched.
"That's not distance," she whispered. "That's fear."
His hand lifted—hesitated—then cupped her jaw.
Just for a second.
The world narrowed.
Then the chapel doors slammed open.
"Commander!" a guard shouted. "The queen has issued an arrest order—"
Kael's hand dropped instantly.
"For whom?" Aelira demanded.
The guard swallowed.
"For Princess Aelira."
Silence crashed down.
Kael's voice was calm.
Deadly.
"No," he said.
Outside, boots thundered closer.
Aelira met his gaze, heart steady despite the storm.
"This is it," she said softly.
"Yes," Kael agreed.
And for the first time since her rebirth—
Aelira smiled.
Because the Queen had chosen blood.
And blood—
Would answer back.