Morning came like a wound reopening.
The city did not wake gently it groaned. Bells rang from distant towers, sharp and insistent, cutting through the mist that still clung to the streets after the storm. Smoke curled from chimneys and from places where fires had burned too hot in the night, leaving behind the bitter scent of ash and iron.
Aelin stood at the narrow window of the safehouse, watching the city breathe.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass eyes too sharp, posture too alert, a thin line of blood still caught beneath one fingernail no matter how hard she scrubbed. She had changed out of her soaked clothes hours ago, but the night clung to her anyway, heavy and unwilling to let go.
Behind her, Kael sat at the rough wooden table, methodically cleaning his sword.
The scrape of cloth against steel was steady. Controlled. Too controlled.
"You're doing that too carefully," Aelin said without turning.
Kael paused, then resumed. "It deserves respect."
"It killed three men last night."
"And it kept you alive."
She turned then, leaning back against the wall, arms folding over her chest. "You always make it sound so simple."
He finally looked up at her.
"You think it is?"
Their eyes held.
Something fragile and unresolved lingered between them the kiss, the promise behind it, the way they had stood back-to-back in blood and rain as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Aelin looked away first.
"We can't stay here long," she said. "The Shadow Guard will be tearing the lower quarters apart by now."
"They already are." Kael sheathed the sword. "Word travels fast when blood spills."
"And when it spills from the wrong people."
He stood, crossing the room in long strides. "Which means the council will move next."
Aelin stiffened. "The council doesn't know about me."
Kael stopped an arm's length away. "They will."
Silence settled, heavy as a held breath.
Aelin's jaw tightened. "Then we leave."
Kael shook his head once. "Not yet."
Her eyes snapped to his. "Kael"
"If we run now," he cut in calmly, "we confirm everything they suspect."
"And if we stay?"
"We fight smarter."
She studied him, searching for doubt, but found only resolve.
"You're already planning something," she said.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Always."
Before she could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room three quick raps, followed by one slow.
Kael moved instantly, hand on his dagger. "Stay back."
The door opened just enough for a figure to slip inside.
Lira.
Her hood was soaked through, dark curls escaping in damp strands around her face. Her eyes were bright with urgency and fear.
"They're calling an emergency assembly," she said without preamble. "At the Spire."
Aelin's stomach dropped. "Already?"
"This morning." Lira's gaze flicked between them. "Your names are being whispered."
Kael cursed under his breath.
Lira continued, voice lowering. "And Mark's name was spoken."
The room went cold.
Aelin felt it first a sharp, burning sensation flaring at her wrist. She hissed, clutching it as the mark beneath her skin pulsed violently, dark veins spidering outward before retreating again.
Kael was at her side instantly, gripping her shoulders. "Easy."
"It's him," she breathed. "He's close."
Lira paled. "The council believes he's returned."
Kael's expression hardened into something lethal. "He never left."
The Spire rose from the heart of the city like a blade driven into stone tall, narrow, and unforgiving. Its white walls gleamed under the pale sun, spotless and cruel in their perfection.
Aelin hated it on sight.
The council chamber was already crowded when they arrived. Cloaked figures murmured in low voices, tension coiled tight in the air. Every step Aelin took echoed too loudly, every gaze felt like a blade testing her skin.
Kael walked beside her, unflinching.
They stopped at the center of the chamber.
High above them, the councilors sat in a semicircle faces masked by shadow and authority. At the center sat High Regent Valcor, fingers steepled, eyes sharp with interest.
"Aelin of the Eastern Quarter," Valcor said smoothly. "You stand accused of consorting with forbidden forces."
Aelin lifted her chin. "I stand accused by rumor."
"Rumor has teeth," Valcor replied. "And last night, it drew blood."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
Kael stepped forward. "If there are accusations, speak them plainly."
Valcor's gaze shifted to him. "Ah. The Blade of the South. How convenient that you were present."
"Or how fortunate," Kael said evenly.
Valcor smiled thinly. "You were seen killing three men."
"Four," Kael corrected. "They attacked first."
"And the bodies bore marks of shadow magic," another councilor interjected.
Aelin's heart pounded.
"That magic is not mine," she said clearly.
Valcor's eyes gleamed. "Yet the mark burns on your skin."
Aelin froze.
Kael's hand brushed hers brief, grounding.
"You don't understand what you're invoking," Kael warned.
"Oh, we understand enough," Valcor said. "The mark is a beacon. And beacons draw monsters."
Aelin felt the room closing in.
"And what will you do?" she asked quietly. "Chain me? Burn me?"
Valcor leaned forward. "We will use you."
The word struck like a slap.
"You will lead us to Mark."
Kael's control snapped.
"You will not," he snarled.
Steel rang as guards shifted, hands tightening on weapons.
Valcor raised a hand. "Peace. Blade. You above all should understand sacrifice."
Kael's eyes burned. "I understand cruelty disguised as necessity."
The regent's smile faded. "You forget your place."
"No," Kael said. "I remember it. And I choose differently."
Gasps erupted as Kael stepped fully in front of Aelin, body a shield.
"If you touch her," he said, voice carrying to every corner of the chamber, "you will have to go through me."
Silence fell thick, stunned.
Aelin stared at him, heart hammering painfully in her chest.
Valcor studied them for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
"So be it," he said softly. "Let the city watch you bleed together."
The assembly was dismissed with cold efficiency.
Outside, the air felt heavier, as if the city itself had heard the verdict.
Aelin stopped suddenly, fingers digging into Kael's sleeve. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes," he said simply. "I did."
"You just made yourself their enemy."
He turned to her, eyes fierce. "I already was."
Her breath trembled. "Why?"
He didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was low, raw.
"Because I'm tired of surviving alone."
The mark burned again hotter this time.
Aelin gasped, stumbling. Kael caught her, arms strong around her as the world tilted.
"I see him," she whispered. "In my head. He's smiling."
Kael swore. "We leave now."
Lira appeared at their side. "You won't make it past the inner gate."
Kael met her gaze. "Then we don't go through the gate."
Night fell fast.
They moved through forgotten tunnels beneath the city, torchlight flickering against ancient stone. The deeper they went, the stronger the pull became like an invisible thread tightening around Aelin's heart.
Finally, they emerged into a ruined courtyard swallowed by vines and shadow.
A figure stood at its center.
Tall. Still. Waiting.
Mark.
Aelin's blood ran cold.
"So," he said pleasantly. "You finally came to me."
Kael drew his blade.
Mark's gaze slid to him. "Ah. The orphaned blade. Still clinging to ghosts?"
Rage surged but Aelin stepped forward, shaking yet unbroken.
"You took everything," she said. "You don't get me too."
Mark smiled wider. "Oh, child. You were always mine."
The mark flared blindingly bright.
Kael grabbed her hand.
"Whatever happens," he said urgently, "don't let go."
She tightened her grip.
"I won't."
As Mark raised his hand and the shadows obeyed
The ground split beneath them.
And the city above screamed.