Chapter 24 — The Warlord's Jealousy
The fortress of Blackspire had never known unease.
Its walls were carved from obsidian rock older than any kingdom, its towers rising like blades against the sky. For centuries, soldiers had marched through its gates knowing only certainty: the Warlord ruled, and the world obeyed.
Tonight, however, the air itself felt unsettled.
Elowen sensed it the moment she stepped into the eastern gallery.
The corridor stretched long and high, torchlight glinting off black stone. Heavy banners bearing the sigil of Blackspire an open void crowned in silver hung in solemn stillness. Normally, the fortress felt like a shield around her, unyielding and safe.
Tonight, it felt like something was watching.
She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders, fingers brushing the fabric absently. It had been a long day lessons with Mistress Virelle, a brief appearance at council to observe quietly, and then hours spent organizing relief ledgers for the lower districts. Work kept her grounded. It reminded her she was more than a name, more than a bride sold for coin.
Still… unease clung to her.
"Elowen."
The voice echoed softly down the hall.
She turned.
Lord Cedric Valenwood stood near one of the arched windows, golden torchlight catching in his fair hair. He wore court attire rather than armor cream and gold embroidered with his house crest. His posture was easy, practiced, as though he belonged anywhere he stood.
"Elowen," he repeated, smiling gently. "I was hoping I'd find you."
Her heart stuttered not with excitement, but with caution.
"Lord Cedric," she said politely, inclining her head. "You shouldn't wander Blackspire alone."
He laughed quietly. "I've noticed the guards give me a wide berth. I assume that's intentional."
She hesitated. "This fortress… belongs to my husband."
"And yet you are the one who makes it feel alive," Cedric replied smoothly.
Elowen stiffened.
"I don't appreciate flattery," she said, voice calm but firm. "Especially when it crosses boundaries."
Cedric raised his hands in surrender. "Forgive me. Habit. Court teaches men to speak in half truths and polished compliments. I forget sometimes that not everyone values them."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Why are you here?"
Cedric's gaze softened. "To check on you."
Her brows drew together. "I don't need checking."
"I know," he said quickly. "But the capital whispers. They speak of a maid raised to power, married to a monster. I wanted to see for myself."
"And?" she asked quietly.
"And I see a woman far stronger than they deserve."
The words were sincere. That was the problem.
Before she could respond, the torches flickered.
The air grew heavy dense, pressing, alive.
Cedric felt it instantly. His smile faded as a chill ran down his spine.
Footsteps echoed from the far end of the gallery.
Slow. Measured. Unavoidable.
Elowen did not need to turn to know who it was.
Kael Draven walked toward them, cloak trailing behind him like a living shadow. His presence alone bent the atmosphere; the void answered his emotions even when he did not summon it. Silver runes faintly glimmered along his gauntlets, reacting to the sharp spike of something dangerous beneath his calm.
Jealousy.
Not wild. Not uncontrolled.
Contained and far more terrifying for it.
"Lord Valenwood," Kael said coolly. "You seem lost."
Cedric bowed stiffly. "Warlord."
Kael's gaze never left Elowen.
"Is my wife being disturbed?"
Elowen felt the weight of that word wife settle into her chest, warm and heavy all at once.
"No," she answered honestly. "We were speaking."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"About?"
Cedric straightened. "With respect, my lord, I was merely "
Kael raised a hand.
The void stirred.
Cedric froze mid-sentence, breath catching as pressure wrapped around his chest not enough to harm, but enough to remind him that power stood before him in human form.
"Elowen," Kael said quietly, "may I speak with my guest alone?"
She hesitated only a second.
"Yes."
She stepped back, though her gaze lingered on Kael's face. There was something restrained there something dangerous barely held at bay. She had seen him destroy battlefields without emotion.
This was different.
As she retreated toward the side passage, Kael's attention shifted fully to Cedric.
"You will leave Blackspire at dawn," Kael said. "You will not seek private conversation with my wife again."
Cedric swallowed. "I meant no disrespect."
"Intent does not erase consequence," Kael replied. "You tread close to a boundary that ends poorly."
"And if Elowen herself wishes to speak to me?" Cedric challenged softly.
The void roared.
For a breathless moment, the torches dimmed, shadows clawing up the walls.
Kael stepped closer until Cedric could feel the cold pull of nothingness against his skin.
"Then I will trust her judgment," Kael said. "But you will not test mine again."
Cedric bowed deeply this time. "Understood."
He left without another word.
The moment he disappeared down the corridor, the pressure vanished.
Kael exhaled slowly.
Only then did he turn.
Elowen stood a few paces away, arms folded tightly around herself not in fear, but in uncertainty.
"You didn't need to threaten him," she said softly.
Kael's expression shifted not defensive, but troubled.
"I know."
"Then why "
"Because the thought of someone looking at you as though you are something to be taken," Kael interrupted, voice low, "unsettles me more than war ever has."
Silence stretched between them.
Elowen's breath caught.
"You don't own me," she said not accusing, just honest.
"I know," Kael replied immediately. "That is why I am afraid."
She stepped closer.
"You scare everyone," she said quietly. "But you've never frightened me."
His gaze dropped to her face, searching.
"I do not want to cage you," he said. "But I do not know how to exist in a world where you could be taken from me."
Her heart ached at the rawness beneath his control.
"You don't need to fight every threat," she whispered. "Some things… you just trust."
Kael hesitated, then slowly removed one gauntlet. His bare hand trembled faintly an admission he had never allowed another soul to witness.
"Teach me," he said.
She reached out, placing her smaller hand over his.
The void stilled.
The fortress breathed again.
Kael closed his eyes, forehead lowering until it rested gently against hers.
Not a kiss.
Something deeper.
A promise not yet spoken.
And in the shadows of Blackspire, power bowed not to fear, but to love still learning its shape.