Chapter 25 – The Night the Warlord Lost Control
The night over Blackspire fell heavy and thick, as if the sky itself were holding its breath.
Elowen stood at the tall arched window of her chamber, fingers resting lightly against the cold stone sill. Below, the fortress glowed with scattered torchlight soldiers changing shifts, servants moving quietly, shadows stretching long across the inner courtyard. From above, it looked calm.
It was not.
She could feel it.
A pressure coiled low in her chest, unfamiliar and unsettling. Ever since the incident at court the thinly veiled insults, the noblewoman's lingering gaze on Kael, the way whispers had followed them like venomous insects something had shifted.
Kael had not come to her tonight.
He always came. Sometimes only to sit in silence, sometimes to ask if she had eaten, sometimes merely to stand in the doorway as if reassuring himself she still existed.
Tonight, there was nothing.
Elowen drew her shawl tighter around herself and turned from the window. The chamber felt too large without him. Too quiet.
A knock echoed against the door.
Her heart leapt.
"Come in," she said softly.
The door opened but it was not Kael.
Mistress Virelle entered instead, her sharp eyes immediately assessing Elowen's expression. "You felt it too," the older woman said, not bothering with pleasantries.
Elowen nodded. "He's angry."
"No," Virelle corrected gently. "He's losing restraint."
A chill slid down Elowen's spine.
"Where is he?"
"The lower battlements," Virelle replied. "He dismissed everyone."
Of course he had.
Elowen did not hesitate. She gathered her skirts and moved past the steward. "Then I'll go to him."
Virelle caught her wrist not forcefully, but firmly. "My lady," she said carefully, "Kael Draven is not dangerous because he is cruel. He is dangerous because he loves."
Elowen met her gaze, steady and resolute. "Then that is exactly why I must go."
The lower battlements were carved directly into the mountain, ancient and unadorned. As Elowen descended the narrow stair, the air grew colder, heavier charged with something that made her skin prickle.
She felt him before she saw him.
The void answered his emotions. The shadows along the walls twisted unnaturally, stretching toward the center of the chamber where Kael stood alone.
His back was to her.
The black armor he wore was stripped of insignia, his cloak discarded at his feet. His gauntlets lay on the stone floor, cracked.
The stone beneath him was fractured.
"Elowen," he said, voice low, dangerous not turning.
She stopped several paces away. "You didn't come."
"I was not fit to," he replied.
That alone told her how bad it was.
She took another step forward. The shadows hissed, recoiling.
"Kael," she said gently. "Look at me."
He laughed once sharp and bitter. "Do you know what they said today?"
She didn't answer. She didn't need to.
"They asked me how long I would tolerate a maid wearing my name. They asked how soon I would replace you with someone… suitable."
His hands clenched.
"I did not answer," he continued. "Because if I had spoken, I would have killed them all."
Elowen's chest tightened. "You didn't," she said softly.
"No," he agreed. "Because I thought of you. And that frightened me more than their insults ever could."
He turned then.
His eyes were wrong void dark, the faint glow beneath barely restrained. This was the Kael the world feared. The warlord who erased armies. The man bound by power older than kingdoms.
And yet when he looked at her, his expression fractured.
"You make me weak," he said hoarsely. "You make me hesitate. I have never hesitated."
Elowen took another step closer.
"You make me want things I have no right to want," he continued. "Peace. A future. A life where I am not a weapon."
The shadows surged outward as if reacting to his turmoil.
Elowen reached him.
She placed her hand against his chest.
The void stilled instantly.
Kael inhaled sharply, as if struck.
"You are not weak," she said quietly. "You are choosing."
His hand closed around her wrist not tight, but desperate. "If I lose control," he warned, "if I hurt you "
"You won't," she interrupted.
He searched her face, as if looking for fear.
He found none.
"You think I am fragile because I was treated as such," Elowen said. "But I am still here. I chose to come to you."
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic.
"I am not afraid of your power," she whispered. "I am afraid of being shut out from you."
Something broke.
Kael pulled her against him with a growl that vibrated through his chest. His forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged, restraint hanging by a thread.
"Tell me to stop," he said.
Elowen tilted her head up. "I won't."
His mouth found hers.
It was not gentle at first. It was raw months of tension, restraint, fear, and longing colliding in a single moment. Kael kissed her like a man drowning, as if she were the only solid thing in a collapsing world.
Elowen melted into him, hands sliding up his shoulders, feeling the heat beneath the armor, the power trembling just under his skin.
He slowed forced himself to.
His kisses softened, deepened, reverent now. As if he were learning her instead of claiming her.
"Are you sure?" he murmured against her lips.
"Yes."
That was all he needed.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her away from the center of the battlements, into the shadowed alcove where the stone was warmer, smoother where the world felt distant.
He laid her down carefully, as if she were made of glass.
The intimacy that followed was unhurried, deliberate. Every touch asked permission. Every breath was shared.
Kael worshipped her with his hands, his mouth, his presence anchoring himself in her warmth, her quiet gasps, the way she clutched at him as if he were something precious.
For the first time, the void did not roar.
It purred.
Later much later Kael lay beside her, her head resting against his chest, his arm around her waist.
The shadows were still.
"I have killed kings," he said quietly. "I have broken armies. But nothing has ever undone me the way you do."
Elowen traced the scar over his heart. "Then let me be what puts you back together."
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time since becoming the Warlord of Blackspire, Kael Draven slept without dreaming of blood.