Kaen’s smile was slow, serpentine. “The crown. The dragons. And her.” For a moment, silence stretched, a dark acknowledgment passing between them.
Vaelgor’s voice dripped with amusement. “Then you’d best hope your flame-born brother lives long enough for you to use him.”
Kaen turned away, cloak swirling. “He’ll do as I need. They both will. When the time comes, when the Aether rises again, I’ll be the one who wields it.” He strode back toward the tunnel, his boots striking sparks from the stone.
Behind him, Maelor’s laughter slithered through the shadows. “So speaks every tyrant before he falls.”
Chapter
Forty-Seven
The chamber door closed with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by velvet drapes and the high hush of ancient stone. Thick with candlelight and the faint scent of cedar oil, the royal solarium was a place not meant for war, but for whispers. Queen Elyria stood near the wide-arched window, her gaze on the distant night sky. The moon carved silver across her face, ethereal and tense.
King Varian lingered behind her, silent. He’d dismissed the advisors and sent the guards away. Even the ever-loyal Kranon had been asked to give them space. Only the storm and silence remained.
“She lied,” Varian said finally, not unkindly. “She said she only sensed Kaen. That she wasn’t sure when she knew.”
Queen Elyria turned her head, her profile sharp as a blade in the starlight. “She did not lie.”
“She withheld, then.”
“No,” the Queen said, quietly but firmly. “She protected herself.”
Varian exhaled, moving to pour a small glass of spiced wine, though his fingers trembled slightly as he lifted the decanter. “If she knows Kaen was involved, if he betrayed the throne, why would she hesitate to speak it outright?”
“Because she’s not ready to believe it. And perhaps, deep down, neither are you, and she knew that. She knew you would not backher, nor would the council, without absolute proof, and you didn’t let me use scrying on him.”
His jaw tightened. “I couldn’t have the Queen, his mother, be the one to declare it.”
The Queen stepped closer, her voice lower now, threaded with something older than doubt. “But I have seen it, Varian.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “Seen it?”
“A vision,” she said. “Three nights before the abduction. I woke up screaming. Nyxariel’s eyes, my own voice, then Kaen, standing in a pool of shadow that rippled like oil. There was no blood, no weapon. Only silence. And a black mark pulsing beneath his hand. It was old magic. The kind that stains those who listen too long.”
He stared at her as if she’d spoken a different language. “That’s impossible. He would never touch the dark arts. He’s disciplined. Loyal. I raised him. ”
“We both did,” she interrupted, eyes fierce now. “That is why I say this with sorrow, not accusation. There is a rot taking root in our bloodline, Varian. You’ve felt it too. You’ve seen it in the councils, the advisors. Their eyes are turning to Kaen more than you.”
He said nothing for a long time. Then, finally, “He would never betray the realm.”
“Not for power?” she asked softly. “What if he believes he’s saving it with the power?”
Varian turned back to the window, his wine untouched. “You saw a shadow beneath his hand. That could mean many things. Ambition. Doubt. Rage. You can’t condemn our son over one vision.”
She crossed to him, laying a hand on his arm. Her touch was warm, grounding. “I’m not condemning him. I’m asking you to watch him. To be a father, yes, but also a King. You cannot close your eyes to this, Varian. Not if you hope to protect what’s left of the realm and Veil.”
Varian closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked older than she’d ever seen him, worn from battles not yet fought.
“You think he helped them take her?”
“I think he knew,” Elyria whispered. “Or worse, he orchestrated it, and if he did, he didn’t act alone.”
Silence fell again. Then, quietly, Varian said, “Do you still see anything ahead?”
Her lips parted. “A fork. A breaking point.”
“Of the bond?”
