Kaen stepped forward, feigning reluctance. “Forgive me, Father, but the servants talk. The guards talk. Even the dragons seem restless when she’s near him. The bond between them is not normal. If her magic flares again, she could take him with her, or worse.”
“That’s enough,” Thorne growled, but Kaen continued, voice silken and cold.
“She’s an unknown, Father. A mystery that bleeds power we can’t control. We need to bring her into royal custody. For the realm’s safety.”
Thorne slammed his fist onto the table, the impact ringing like thunder. “You mean a cage.”
Kaen didn’t even blink. “If the cage keeps her from destroying us all, then yes.”
“Say that again,” Thorne hissed. The shadows at his feet stirred, smoke curling across the floor like tendrils of black flame. A torch guttered, the air thickening with the pulse of shadowfire.
Kaen held his ground, even smiled. “See?” he said softly. “She’s already changing you. You’ve lost control.”
The King rose, voice heavy with authority. “Enough, both of you!” Silence slammed into the room.
King Varian’s eyes, pale as winter steel, turned to Kaen. “You want her placed under the crown’s protection?”
“Protection,” Kaen echoed smoothly. “Yes. Until her magic stabilizes.”
“And you will not interfere.” the King said to Thorne.
Thorne’s chest rose and fell like a battle drum. “You can’t keep Thaelyn here. She’ll never agree.”
Kaen turned to him then, his smile sharpening. “Oh, she already has.”
Thorne went still. “What?”
Kaen clasped his hands behind his back. “She’s resting in the east wing under royal guard. The Queen has already approved her extended stay for ‘observation.’ She believes it’s best.”
The room spun slightly around Thorne. His pulse roared in his ears. “You went behind my back.”
“I went through proper channels,” Kaen interrupted, his tone silken with mock patience. “Someone has to think of the realm.”
The King’s voice boomed across the hall. “Enough! Thaelyn Marren remains under royal watch until further notice. That is my decree.”
Thorne stared at his father, something dark and wounded flickering across his face. “Under his watch?” he said quietly, gesturing to Kaen. “You’d let him handle her?”
“She is dangerous,” the King said simply.
Thorne’s voice cracked with restrained fury. “So is Kaen.”
Kaen only smiled. “And yet here I stand.”
The King motioned to the guards. “Escort my sons to their quarters. I’ll hear no more.”
Thorne took a step forward, shadows flaring around his boots, his voice low and trembling. “Kaen, if you hurt her?—”
Kaen’s smile didn’t falter. “What will you do, brother? Burn down the throne room?”
Thorne stopped dead, chest heaving, eyes lit with restrained fire. For a heartbeat, Kaen thought he might do it, might let the darkness inside him loose. But then Commander Kieran Dareth appeared in the doorway, his voice like thunder.
“Enough!” Kieran didn’t bow. He never did. The faint scent of iron and wind followed him, his dark cloak bearing the marks ofthe field. When his boots struck the marble, even Kaen’s smile thinned.
“Brother,” Kieran said to King Varian. His voice carried the clipped precision of a soldier, but his eyes swept the table, measuring, already cutting through the lies. “I was told of the disturbance.”
“You arrived late,” Kaen murmured. “Convenient.”
Kieran’s gaze snapped to him. “I was busy making sure the southern flank of your father’s border, still stands. You’re welcome.”
