The guards filled the corridor.
Steel. Torches. Orders whispered too loudly to sound confident.
"Princess Aelira," the captain said, voice tight, "by decree of Her Majesty—"
"No."
Kael's voice cut through the air like drawn steel.
Every guard froze.
Kael stepped forward, placing himself fully between Aelira and the line of weapons. Not angled. Not cautious.
Protective.
The captain swallowed. "Commander Draven, stand aside. This does not concern—"
"It concerns me," Kael replied calmly. "Because this order is unlawful."
A ripple moved through the guards.
Aelira felt it—the shift. The moment when obedience wavered.
"You accuse the crown?" the captain demanded.
"I accuse fear," Kael said. "And cowardice dressed as law."
He turned his head slightly. "Aelira. Behind me."
She didn't argue.
That alone said everything.
Queen Seraphine arrived moments later, her presence silencing the corridor without a word. She took in the scene—the guards hesitating, Kael unmoving, Aelira untouched.
Her eyes narrowed.
"So," the queen said softly, "you've chosen."
Kael met her gaze without bowing.
"Yes."
A murmur rippled outward.
"You would defy your oath," Seraphine continued, "for a girl who threatens stability?"
Kael didn't hesitate.
"I would defy a throne that murders dissent," he said evenly. "And I would do it again."
The queen smiled.
Cold. Satisfied.
"Then you are relieved of command," she said. "Seize them."
No one moved.
The queen's smile faltered.
Kael's gaze swept the guards. "This arrest violates charter law. You all know it."
Silence stretched.
Then one guard lowered his weapon.
Another followed.
The captain's hand shook.
Seraphine's eyes burned.
"So be it," she whispered. "You've declared treason."
Kael turned slightly toward Aelira. "When I move, don't stop."
She nodded once.
The next second—
Kael moved.
Not wildly. Not violently.
Precisely.
Steel rang as he disarmed the nearest guard, kicking the blade down the corridor. He struck pressure points, redirected momentum, used space like a weapon.
It was over in seconds.
No blood.
Just broken authority.
Kael stood between fallen weapons, breathing steady.
"This ends now," he said.
They ran.
Not blindly—strategically.
Hidden passages. Servant routes. Old stone that remembered rebellion.
Aelira kept pace beside him, skirts gathered, mind razor-sharp.
"You chose me," she said as they turned a corner.
"I chose the truth," Kael replied. "You happen to be it."
They burst into the night air.
Horses waited.
Prepared.
Kael swung up first, then reached down and hauled Aelira up behind him in one fluid motion. Her arms wrapped around his waist—necessary, unavoidable.
The gates loomed ahead.
Closed.
Guards rushed to block them.
Kael did not slow.
"Aelira," he said over his shoulder, "now."
She didn't question.
She lifted her hand—not to unleash power, but to bend it.
The shadows surged—not wild, not hungry—but disciplined. They wrapped around the gate mechanisms, freezing them in place.
The gates shuddered—
Then slammed open.
They rode through.
The palace bells began to ring.
Alarm. Treason. War.
They didn't stop until the forest swallowed them.
Only then did Kael pull the horse to a halt.
Silence pressed in—real, breathing silence.
Aelira slid down from the saddle.
Kael turned to face her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then—
"You didn't hesitate," Aelira said quietly.
"No."
"You chose exile. Death."
"Yes."
She stepped closer.
"Then don't stop now," she whispered.
Kael's restraint snapped.
He pulled her in and kissed her—hard, desperate, real.
No interruption.
No restraint.
No doubt.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and shaking, Kael rested his forehead against hers.
"There is no going back," he said.
Aelira smiled—fierce, alive, unafraid.
"Good," she replied. "I already burned that road once."
Behind them, the palace burned with alarms.
Ahead—
Rebellion.