They came at dawn.
Not guards.
Not soldiers.
Men and women in dark ceremonial cloaks, bearing the silver insignia of the High Council—authority without mercy.
Avelyncè Ryler knew something was wrong the moment the warmth in her chest turned sharp.
Alert.
She sat up in bed just as the doors to her chamber swung open.
"By order of the High Council," a voice announced, "Avelyncè Ryler is to be taken into custody."
---
Caelan was already there.
He stood between Avelyncè and the council members, posture rigid, eyes dangerous.
"You do not have that authority," he said calmly.
A councilman stepped forward. "On the contrary, Your Highness. Until the throne's will is clarified, the girl represents a destabilizing element."
Avelyncè blinked.
"…That's one way to describe being alive."
No one laughed.
---
"She will come with us," the councilwoman said. "For questioning."
Caelan's hand twitched toward his sword.
"No," he said.
The warmth in Avelyncè's chest surged—angry now.
The air thickened.
---
"Please don't," Avelyncè whispered.
The council mistook it for fear.
They stepped closer.
The throne answered.
---
A low, resonant pulse rolled through the palace.
Walls shuddered. Windows rattled. The floor beneath the council members cracked like thin ice.
One man fell to his knees.
Another dropped the arrest writ, hands shaking.
Avelyncè gasped, clutching her chest.
"I didn't— I didn't tell it to—"
Caelan grabbed her wrist. "Focus on me."
She met his eyes.
The warmth steadied.
The pressure eased.
---
"This," Caelan said quietly to the council, "is your warning."
A councilman swallowed. "You would defy the law?"
Caelan's gaze flicked briefly to the glowing throne behind them.
"No," he said. "You would."
---
The council retreated.
Not defeated.
Just… delayed.
When the doors finally closed, the silence felt heavier than the chaos before it.
Avelyncè sank onto the edge of the bed.
"…They're going to keep trying," she said.
"Yes," Caelan replied.
She looked up at him. "And next time, the throne might not stop itself."
His expression darkened.
"No," he agreed. "Which means you need to learn how to."
---
Far beneath the palace, the shard of gold burned hot.
Lord Sevrin Kael smiled as he felt the tremor ripple through the city.
"Good," he murmured.
"Now you're afraid of her."