“She’s unstable.”
“She’s learning and surviving. Her type of magic was lost. She’s trying to learn it and control it.”
The fire crackled between them, sending shadows flickering overtheir features. For the first time, the lines in the King’s face looked worn, not with power, but with fatigue. “She will change everything,” he said quietly.
“Then let her do it in the right way,” Thorne said.
Varian looked away. Not far. Just enough to break eye contact. “I didn’t know you resented me.”
“I don’t resent you,” Thorne said. “I’ve accepted my past. Now I have something,someone, worth fighting for.”
A silence fell again, thicker now. Not with tension, but recognition. After a moment, the King walked to the hearth and placed a hand on the mantle.
“Your mother warned me this would come. She said one day the fire you buried would find a mirror. And when it did, you would choose.”
Thorne’s voice was quiet. “I have chosen. We can be on the same side.”
Varian turned back toward him. The firelight caught the edge of his crown, barely more than a circlet tonight, but still a symbol of burden and reign. “I do not make decisions based on feelings. I won’t rule right now on the matter, I’ll do it in council,” he said finally. “But I won’t protect you either. You make this path, you walk it. With her, alone, if needed.”
Thorne nodded once, solemn. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
The King stepped closer. His hand came to rest on Thorne’s shoulder, not lightly, not tenderly, but firm. Solid. “You’re not hard of stone like Kaen or me. You are more like Kieran or your mother,” Varian murmured. “But I see now. That might be what saves us.”
Thorne didn’t answer. He simply stood there, still and silent, as the flames crackled low behind them, and the weight of the future settled between father and son.
The palace council chamber was a cathedral of power, consisting of vaulted stone, torches that burned blue-white, and a single table of black glass reflected the faces of King and members alike. Prince Kaen stood at the head of it. He looked immaculate, every strand of dark hair in place, every line of his uniform pressed and precise. To the untrained eye, he was the image of composure. To those who knew better, he was something else entirely: a blade hidden in silk.
The chamber doors opened, and Thorne strode in, fresh from the fighting fields. His armor still smelled of blood and rain. He looked exhausted, furious, alive. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing curtly to the King.
King Varian sat beneath the great sigil banners of House Veyrath and House Dareth. His crown caught the torchlight, but his face was hard as hammered iron. “You were summoned, Prince Thorne. You took your time answering.”
Thorne straightened. “I came directly from the border, Father.”
Kaen smiled faintly, his voice smooth as polished glass. “Indeed, Father. I insisted we summon him immediately. There were concerning reports.”
Thorne’s gaze snapped toward him. “Reports?”
Kaen folded his hands neatly behind his back. “The royal scouts claim your squad was ambushed because of a magical surge. Something uncontrolled, something Aether-born.” He let the word linger, slow and deliberate. “They say it came from your companion.”
Thorne’s shoulders went rigid. “Thaelyn saved our soldiers. Without her, half the battalion would’ve died.”
Kaen sighed softly, like a disappointed tutor. “Ah, yes. The savior girl. The one who nearly burned herself alive and unleashed a power no one fully understands.”
“She healed Darian!” Thorne snapped. “She pulled him back from death and me as well!”
Kaen didn’t flinch. “And nearly tore a hole in the warding lines of the palace in the process. Tell me, brother, what if that samemagic misfires next time? What if it decides to burn instead of heal?”
King Varian’s voice was quiet but cutting. “Enough. Kaen, you will not bait your brother in my hall.”
Kaen bowed his head slightly, every gesture obedient, though his eyes glittered. “Of course, Father. I speak only out of concern. Aether power is dangerous. We cannot afford another Aeromir.”
The word landed like a curse. Thorne’s eyes flashed with rage. “You don’t get to use that name for your purposes.”
Kaen smiled, faint and cruel. “I use whatever history demands.”
The King’s gaze cut to Thorne. “Is it true that you’ve grown even more attached to this girl?”
Thorne froze. “Attached?”
