The doors of the Sovereign Assembly shattered.
Kael didn't wait for permission.
He strode into the chamber like a storm given flesh—cloak billowing, sword sheathed but ready, eyes burning with fury. Councilors rose in alarm. Renar stood slowly, calculating.
Elara followed, silent.
She had never seen Kael like this.
Not in war.
Not in love.
Not even in the pages she once wrote.
Kael was still mad at the attack on Elara life yesterday,and he needed to do something about it,he wasn't just going to sit down and hope his wife's life is safe .
He was going to fight for her.
---
Kael's voice rang out.
"There was an attempt on the queen's life. Yesterday, you all saw it ."
Murmurs.
Gasps.
Renar stepped forward. "We all grieve the danger—"
Kael cut him off. "Save your grief. I want names."
Lucien stood. "We've begun an inquiry—"
Kael's voice was steel. "Not fast enough."
He turned to the guards. "Seal the doors. No one leaves."
Elara's breath caught.
This was not diplomacy.
This was war.
---
The interrogation began.
Kael moved like a blade—sharp, deliberate, merciless. He questioned Councilor Vess first, then the scribes, then the guards. No one was spared. No one was safe. He knew that someone here had valid informations.
Elara watched.
And remembered.
She had written Kael as a warrior.
But she had forgotten the king.
---
Hours passed.
The chamber grew colder.
Renar remained composed, but his fingers twitched.
Councilor Dren's name surfaced.
A minor noble.
Quiet.
Forgettable.
Until now.
Kael ordered his arrest.
Dren fled.
Kael followed.
---
They found him in the archives.
Cornered.
Desperate.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He disarmed him in seconds.
Held him against the wall.
"Who do you serve?" Kael demanded.
Dren trembled. "I don't know his name."
Kael's voice was low. "Describe him."
"A mask," Dren whispered. "White. Porcelain."
Elara froze.
Kael's grip tightened. "What did he promise?"
"Power," Dren said. "And protection."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "From whom?"
Dren looked at Elara.
And said nothing.
---
Kael didn't release him.
He dragged Dren through the halls, past stunned courtiers and silent guards, straight to the throne room.
He threw him to the floor.
"Let the court see what treason looks like," Kael said.
Elara stood beside him.
She didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
---
That night, in their chamber, Elara sat in silence.
Kael knelt before her.
"I will burn this kingdom to keep you safe," he said.
Elara touched his face. "You already are."
He kissed her.
And this time, it felt like fire.
But beneath the heat, something else stirred.
A question.
A fear.
A name.
Seraphina.
---
In the morning, a new note arrived.
No seal.
No signature.
> "You found the pawn. Now find the queen Or king."
Elara folded it.
Kael read it.
And smiled.
"Then let's play."
---
But the game had already begun.
That afternoon, a servant vanished.
That evening, a steward was found poisoned.
That night, the palace bells rang again.
Kael stood at the window, watching the moon rise.
"Lyria," he said.
She joined him.
"They're testing us."
She nodded. "Then let's show them what we are."
Kael turned.
And for the first time, Elara saw the man she had written.
Not just a king.
Not just a husband.
But a weapon.
-
---
The letter came at dusk.
No seal. No signature.
Just a single line, scrawled in ink that bled like a wound:
> "The next arrow will not miss."
Kael didn't wait.
He didn't summon guards.
He didn't consult the Assembly.
He simply vanished into the night.
---
He moved like a shadow through the palace, every step silent, every breath measured. He knew the corridors better than any map. He had trained in them as a boy, under the watchful eye of his father—the former King Aldric, the Iron Wolf of Thorne.
A warrior without mercy.
A king without fear.
Kael had inherited more than a crown.
He had inherited the hunt.
---
The trail led him to the old conservatory.
Abandoned since the siege.
Overgrown.
Forgotten.
Perfect for ghosts.
Kael stepped inside.
The air was thick with jasmine and rot.
And then—
A whisper of movement.
A glint of steel.
Kael turned just in time.
The dagger missed his throat by inches.
---
The assassin was fast.
Lean.
Clad in black.
A porcelain mask hid his face.
He struck again—low, then high, then spinning.
Kael blocked each blow.
Barely.
The assassin was trained.
Precise.
Deadly.
But Kael was something else.
He was forged.
---
They fought through the ruins of the conservatory, blades flashing in the moonlight. Statues shattered. Vines tore. Blood splattered the marble.
Kael took a cut to the shoulder.
The assassin took a punch to the ribs that cracked bone.
Still, he fought.
Still, Kael endured.
Until—
A misstep.
A slip.
Kael seized the opening.
Disarmed him.
Pinned him.
Ripped the mask away.
---
The face beneath was young.
Too young.
Eyes wide with fear.
Kael pressed his blade to the man's throat.
"Who sent you?"
Silence.
Kael pressed harder.
"Who?"
The man gasped. "I don't know his name."
Kael's voice was ice. "Try again."
The assassin trembled. "He wears green. Always. Smells of myrrh. He… he's from Vale."
Kael's blood turned to fire.
"Renar."
The assassin nodded.
Kael stood.
And for the first time in years, he wanted to kill.
---
He didn't.
Not yet.
He bound the man.
Dragged him to the dungeons.
And then he went to Elara.
---
She was waiting.
She always was.
He told her everything.
She listened.
And when he said Renar's name, her hands clenched.
"I trusted Maelis," she whispered.
Kael's voice was low. "She's not involved. This is Renar's game alone."
She looked at him. "What will you do?"
Kael's eyes were steel. "What I was trained to do."
---
---
The dungeon was silent.
Kael stood before the assassin, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. The man was bound, bruised, and broken—but his voice still trembled with fear.
"I told you everything," he said. "Please."
Kael leaned in. "You shot arrows at my wife. You don't get mercy."
The assassin swallowed. "Renar… he didn't say why. Only that she had to fall."
Kael's voice was low. "Then he'll learn what falling feels like."
---
Elara met Kael in the war chamber.
She wore black.
Not mourning.
Preparation.
"He's careful," she said. "He'll deny everything."
Kael nodded. "Then we won't give him the chance."
They outlined the plan.
Not vengeance.
Justice.
Kael would summon Renar to a private council.
Elara would remain hidden.
Lucien would prepare the records.
And the assassin—he would speak.
---
The summons was delivered.
Renar arrived at dusk.
He wore green.
Smelled of myrrh.
Smiled like a man who thought he still held the board.
Kael greeted him alone.
"Your Grace," Renar said, bowing.
Kael didn't return it.
"Sit."
Renar obeyed.
Kael poured wine.
Didn't drink.
"Tell me," Kael said. "What do you think of loyalty?"
Renar's smile faltered. "It's the spine of any kingdom."
Kael nodded. "And betrayal?"
Renar's voice was smooth. "A poison. Best handled quietly."
Kael leaned forward. "Then let's be loud."
---
The doors opened.
Lucien entered.
Followed by the assassin.
Renar's face changed.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Just calculation.
Kael stood.
"You sent him," he said.
Renar laughed. "You have no proof."
The assassin spoke.
Word for word.
Every instruction.
Every meeting.
Every coin.
Renar paled.
Kael stepped closer.
"You tried to kill my queen."
Renar rose. "This is madness."
Kael's voice was thunder. "This is Thorne."
---
Elara stepped from the shadows.
Renar froze.
She walked slowly, deliberately, her gaze locked on his.
"You underestimated me," she said.
Renar stammered. "Maelis—she—"
Elara's voice was ice. "Maelis is loyal. You are not."
Kael drew his sword.
Renar backed away.
"I'm a diplomat," he said.
Kael's voice was steel. "You're a traitor."
Renar trembled.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
---
Kael didn't strike.
Not yet.
He turned to Elara.
"Your call."
She looked at Renar.
Then at Kael.
"Let him live," she said. "Let him watch."
Kael nodded.
Renar was stripped of title.
Stripped of rank.
Stripped of power.
He was sent back to Vale in chains.
---
That night, Kael stood on the balcony.
Elara joined him.
"You were magnificent," she said.
Kael turned. "You were terrifying."
She smiled. "We're a good match."
He kissed her.
And this time, it felt like victory.
---
In the morning, a final note arrived.
No seal.
No signature.
> "The queen stands. The king roars. The game is not over."
Elara folded it.
Kael read it.
And smiled.
"Let them come."
---