[ đ¶ Suggested Track: Life on Mars? â David Bowie ]
The Setting: The Throne Room of Velmora.
"I found her, Father."
The words cut through the silence of the throne room. King Ignatius, draped in furs that seemed to weigh more than his conscience, paused with a crystal glass halfway to his lips. He didn't smile; he merely looked at his son with the eyes of a man who measured love in territory and bloodlines.
"A woman?" The King's voice was a low rumble. "You found a woman, Kaelor? Or have you finally found a pulse?"
Beside the King, the high-ranking ministers gasped, whispering behind gloved hands. Behind Kaelor, Phineas stood frozen. His eyes went wide, his mind racing through every woman they had passed in the village. He didn't know yet. He couldn't possibly imagine who Kaelor was thinking of.
"Yes," Kaelor said, his jaw tight. "I've chosen."
"Gods be praised," the King muttered, though he sounded more annoyed than relieved. "I was beginning to think I'd have to drag you to the altar myself. Time is a luxury we no longer have, son. You are to take this throne soon, and a King without an heir is just a man waiting for a coup. The people are talking. They laugh. They wonder if the Valcrest line ends with a cold stone like you."
The King stood up, "So, tell me. Who is she? Which house? Is she a Duke's daughter? A foreign princess?"
"I don't know where she is," Kaelor replied flatly.
The King stopped mid-stride. "You... you don't know where she is? You pick a bride and then lose her in the wind? Is this a joke?"
"It's no joke, Father."
"Then we will find her," the King barked, his eyes narrowing. "We will throw a Grand Ball. Tomorrow night. We will send the royal invitation to every corner of the kingdom. Every maiden of noble birth, every girl with a drop of ambition will come in their finest silks. You will sit on that dais, and you will find your mystery girl among the sea of dresses."
Kaelor's stomach twisted. He looked at the floor, his mind screaming. How do I tell him? How could he explain that the woman he wanted was currently a fugitive? That she was the "witch" the village tried to turn to ash yesterday?
Phineas, standing behind him, suddenly turned pale. The realization hit him like a physical blow. He leaned in, his voice a frantic hiss.
"Your Highness... tell me you aren't talking about her. Tell me you aren't looking for that witch."
The word 'Witch' was a death sentence.
The King's head snapped toward them. The guards in the room shifted their spears. "What did he say?" the King demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "A witch?"
Kaelor didn't hesitate. Before the word could hang in the air a second longer, he lunged forward, slamming his hand over Phineas's mouth. He let out a forced, booming laugh that sounded more like a bark.
"Phineas is drunk, Father!" Kaelor shouted, his fingers digging into his friend's jaw as a warning to stay silent. "He's been hitting the gin since we left the barracks. He's talking nonsenseâseeing ghosts and 'witches' in every shadow. Phineas, you're an embarrassment."
He shoved Phineas away, looking back at his father with a mask of perfect royal composure. "He needs sleep. And I need to prepare for this ball."
The King watched them for a long moment, his eyes filled with suspicion. "See that he stays sober for tomorrow. And Kaelor?"
Kaelor stopped at the door.
"Your brother, Cassian... he arrives tonight. Try not to kill each other before the first dance. I want the kingdom to see a united front."
Kaelor rolled his eyes, the mention of his brother's name adding a fresh layer of irritation to his chest. He didn't care about Cassian. He didn't even care about the ball. He knew the witch girl wouldn't come. She couldn't. Not after what happened in the village.
But Kaelor had made one mistakeâ
he was thinking like a prince.
Not like a girl who had already walked through fire⊠and lived.
As he stepped into the hallway, his palm began to throb with a sudden, localized heatâthe exact spot where he'd felt her energy at the pyre.