They did not speak for a long time.
The tunnels widened into a chamber where the ceiling rose high enough to disappear into shadow. Pale fungi clung to the walls, glowing faintly, casting sickly light across scorched stone and the remnants of violence Kael had left behind.
Elowen sank down onto a slab of rock, her legs finally giving out. Her hands were still trembling. She pressed them together hard, as if she could force the shaking to stop.
She could still smell burned flesh.
Kael stood several paces away, rigid and silent, his back to her. Fire no longer flickered beneath his skin, but the absence of it felt worse. Like a predator holding itself unnaturally still.
"You did not have to slaughter them," she said at last.
"I did," he replied without turning. His voice was flat. Controlled. "They would not have stopped. Maerith never works alone."
"That does not make it right."
He turned then, slowly, eyes dark and unreadable. "You think right and wrong still exist down here."
The bond pulsed sharply, tension bleeding through it. Elowen flinched.
"You felt it," he continued. "When I burned them. You felt the power settle. You felt how easily it came."
She hated that he was right.
"I felt horror," she said.
"And something else," he countered quietly.
Her throat tightened. She looked away. "That does not mean I wanted it."
"No," Kael said. "It means your blood remembers."
The words made her look back at him.
"Remembers what."
He exhaled slowly, as though choosing how much truth to give her. "The Ashbearers."
Her stomach dropped. "That is a myth."
"It is a grave," he corrected. "One the crown ordered filled."
The bond surged violently at his words, pain flaring through her chest. Images flashed behind her eyes. Firestorms swallowing armies. Kings kneeling in ash. A woman with Elowen's eyes screaming as a blade came down.
She cried out, clutching her head.
Kael was at her side instantly, dropping to his knees in front of her. His hands hovered near her face, afraid to touch.
"Elowen," he said urgently. "Breathe. Stay with me."
She gasped, forcing air into her lungs as the visions faded, leaving her dizzy and sick.
"What did you do," she whispered.
"I did not do that," he said. "Your blood did."
She stared at him in horror. "You knew."
"I suspected," he admitted. "The way the fire reacted to you. The way the bond formed. There are only two bloodlines that can serve as catalysts."
"And the other."
"Is dead," he said. "Erased."
Her laugh came out broken. "So that is it. I am not cursed. I am hunted."
"Yes."
She pressed her hands to her face. "My parents."
"Were killed," Kael said gently. "For what you carried, not for who they were."
The bond twisted painfully, grief flooding through it so sharply Kael hissed as if burned.
"I am sorry," he said.
She looked up at him, eyes blazing. "Do not."
"Do not what."
"Do not pretend regret absolves you. You wear the crown that ordered it."
His jaw clenched. "I was a child."
"And now you are not," she shot back.
Silence fell between them, thick and loaded.
The bond shifted.
Not violently this time. Slowly. Seductively.
Elowen became aware of how close he was. How his hands trembled just slightly where they hovered near her knees. How his gaze lingered on her mouth before he dragged it back to her eyes.
Her breath quickened.
She hated it.
She wanted it.
The realization terrified her.
"This is wrong," she said hoarsely.
"Yes," Kael agreed. "Which is why it will not stop."
The bond surged again, heavier now, dragging sensation through her body like heat through oil. Her pulse raced. Her skin felt too sensitive, every nerve awake.
She swayed forward involuntarily.
Kael caught her.
This time, he did not pull away.
His hands settled on her waist, firm and grounding. The contact sent a violent rush of awareness through both of them. He sucked in a sharp breath.
"Elowen," he warned.
"I know," she whispered.
The air between them crackled, thick with restrained power and something far more dangerous. Her fingers curled into his tunic. His grip tightened in response.
"If we cross this line," he said, voice rough, "the bond will deepen."
Her heart pounded. "And if we do not."
"It will punish us," he admitted. "Slowly."
She laughed weakly. "It really does not care about choice, does it."
"No."
Their foreheads nearly touched.
For one suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed to breath and heat and the terrible pull between them. Kael's lips brushed her temple, barely there, an accidental graze that sent fire roaring through her veins.
She gasped.
Kael froze.
The bond exploded in response, power surging violently through the chamber. Stone cracked. Light flared blindingly bright as fire and shadow twisted together.
Kael swore and pulled away, slamming his palm into the stone wall as he forced the power back down.
"No," he said through clenched teeth. "Not like this."
Elowen sagged, shaking, every nerve screaming.
"I do not want to become this," she whispered.
Kael turned back to her, something raw and terrible in his eyes.
"Neither did I," he said. "And yet here we are."
He straightened slowly, forcing distance between them.
"We cannot stay underground," he continued. "The Inquisition will collapse the tunnels if they have to."
"Where do we go."
"There is a place beyond the border," he said. "A ruin older than the crown. If anything can teach us how to survive this bond, it will."
"And if it cannot."
His gaze softened, just a fraction. "Then we decide what we are willing to become."
Elowen rose unsteadily to her feet.
She looked at the prince who had burned men alive for her.
At the bond that pulled her toward him like gravity.
At the truth written in her blood.
And she understood something with terrifying clarity.
She was no longer running from the kingdom.
She was running toward her own becoming.