Aurelia discovered the truth by accident.
It happened three days after the garden conversation, during one of the dullest lessons imaginable—royal etiquette under Lady Merrow's relentless gaze.
"Posture," the lady snapped. "A queen does not slouch. Even in stillness, she commands."
Aurelia corrected herself, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes forward. The lesson dragged on until her thoughts drifted, as they often did lately, back to Kael and the invisible force that surrounded him like a second skin.
The curse reacts to intent, he had said.
Emotion. Proximity.
That night in his chamber, she had felt it awaken. In the garden, it had stirred again.
But not always.
The realization came when Lady Merrow finally dismissed her and Aurelia stepped into the western corridor—one of the narrowest in the palace.
She rounded a corner and collided with someone solid.
"Forgive—"
Kael's hands closed around her shoulders to steady her.
Time seemed to freeze.
Aurelia felt the warmth of his grip. The solid reality of him. The sudden closeness that should have been fatal.
She waited for it.
The cold.
The pressure.
The whisper of death.
Nothing happened.
The air remained still.
The shadows did not move.
Kael felt it too.
His hands loosened instantly as he stepped back, eyes scanning the corridor as though expecting the walls to bleed.
"Did you feel that?" he asked quietly.
Aurelia swallowed. "I felt… nothing."
His expression darkened—not with anger, but with disbelief.
"That's impossible," he said.
"You touched me," she whispered. "And the curse didn't react."
They stood frozen, acutely aware of the danger of being seen together in such a narrow, intimate space.
Kael exhaled slowly, his control slipping just enough for her to notice.
"It should have," he said. "Even brief contact has triggered it before."
"Before me," Aurelia corrected.
His gaze snapped to hers.
"Do not make yourself exceptional," he warned. "That kind of thinking gets people killed."
"Or it explains why I'm still alive," she replied.
Footsteps echoed at the far end of the corridor.
Kael stepped away sharply, his usual distance restored in an instant. By the time a pair of servants passed, the king and queen stood on opposite sides of the hall, strangers once more.
But something irreversible had already occurred.
That night, Aurelia couldn't sleep.
Her mind replayed the moment again and again—his hands on her shoulders, the absence of pain, the silence where the curse should have screamed.
Why didn't it react?
She rose quietly and crossed to the window. The moon hung low over the palace, pale and watchful.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Her breath caught.
When she opened the door, Kael stood there, cloak loose around his shoulders, expression tight with restraint.
"We need to talk," he said.
She stepped aside without hesitation.
The door closed softly behind him.
"This changes nothing," he said immediately.
Aurelia folded her arms. "It changes everything."
Kael paced the room like a caged animal. "You don't understand. The curse isn't a simple thing. It adapts."
"Then let it adapt," Aurelia said. "We adapt too."
He stopped, turning to her sharply. "You are not a weapon."
"Neither are you," she replied.
His eyes darkened. "You don't know what I've done to keep people safe from me."
"And you don't know what I'm capable of surviving," Aurelia said quietly.
Silence stretched between them, heavy with things neither was ready to say.
"The court cannot know," Kael said finally. "If they suspect you are immune—"
"I won't be immune," Aurelia interrupted. "I'll be useful."
That word made him flinch.
"No," he said. "I won't let them use you."
"Then don't," she said. "But don't pretend I'm helpless."
He studied her, and for the first time, she saw something unguarded in his eyes.
Fear.
Not of the curse.
Of her.
"Stay away from me," he said, voice low. "At least until we understand this."
Aurelia nodded slowly. "I will."
He turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"It didn't react," he said quietly, almost to himself.
"No," Aurelia agreed.
And for the first time, the silence between them felt dangerous in a different way.
Because hope had found a crack.