I didn't know what time it was when the bells rang.
Not the usual pattern.
Not morning prayer. Not dusk assembly. Not midnight silence.
This was different.
Urgent.
Soft, but commanding.
The sound echoed through the palace like it didn't belong to the palace at all.
Even the walls felt tighter. Like they were holding their breath.
I sat on the edge of my cot, half-dressed in the slate-blue robe I hadn't dared take off since the seal. The bone-mark hummed faintly. Not in warning.
In awareness.
Something had shifted.
And the palace knew.
By the time the knock came at my door, I wasn't surprised.
The servant didn't look me in the eye.
She bowed. Kept her gaze low.
"You're summoned to the atrium," she said. "The Empire has arrived."
I didn't ask which empire.
There was only one that mattered.
Solhara.
The Empire protected by the Light Goddess.
The empire whose prince was said to walk with holy beasts and whose soldiers prayed in silver armor even as they slaughtered their enemies.
And now they were here.
In Aeloria.
And for some reason… I was being summoned.
The atrium was colder than I remembered.
Polished stone. Dozens of guards. Ministers arranged in stiff rows along the edges.
Queen Seryne sat on the upper dais, motionless.
Her red silk robes bled across the steps like firewater. No crown, but she didn't need one. Her presence alone was heavier than iron.
The king sat beside her.
Not speaking.
Not moving.
Eyes dead.
Nothing new.
And then there was Kael.
He stood on the queen's right, slightly behind her chair.
Unmasked.
Not smiling.
Just watching.
His hands were folded behind his back.
But I knew that pose. That stillness.
He wasn't calm.
He was waiting.
The bone-seal inside me confirmed it. A pulse. A curl of heat through my ribs.
Kael was alert. Awake. Cold.
And then the doors opened.
If the palace was silence, the empire was sunlight.
Three men entered first — soldiers draped in ivory with silver trim. Their spears gleamed with light-bending enchantments.
Behind them walked the prince.
I recognized the prince the moment the doors opened.
Not because of the way he moved — light, graceful, like the air bent for him.
Not because of the ivory silk robes or the silver crest embroidered over his chest.
Not even because of the way everyone else stepped back like they were afraid to breathe the same air.
I recognized him because my body reacted before my mind did.
The bone-seal behind my ribs twisted — not in pain.
In panic.
A memory.
A warmth.
A smile.
Elarion of Solhara.
The prince who held my wrist in the garden two days ago.
Who had leaned down — not out of duty, not curiosity — but something gentler.
A question I still didn't understand.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
Not like this.
Not in front of everyone.
Not where Kael could see.
The court bowed. I didn't move.
Not out of defiance. Out of instinct.
I wasn't supposed to be seen.
But Elarion saw me anyway.
His gaze slid over the queen, the ministers, the king.
And landed on me.
It didn't linger.
Didn't pierce.
But it saw.
And that was worse.
The queen addressed him like a blade.
"Crown Prince of Solhara. Welcome to Aeloria."
Elarion bowed, polite and deep. "The honor is ours, Your Majesty."
He spoke with clarity. Each word crisp. Each syllable wrapped in something soft and golden.
Solharan tongues were different.
Not heavy like ours.
Lighter.
Woven with breath and suggestion.
His voice made it sound like peace wasn't a treaty but a promise.
And lies didn't feel like lies.
They felt like mercy.
They talked for hours.
About trade.
About border patrols.
About minor deities and pilgrimage paths and how Solhara could provide rare salts to stabilize magical seals.
I heard none of it.
I just stood still.
Because Kael stood across the room.
Behind the queen's throne.
Not masked.
Not blinking.
Just watching.
He didn't speak the entire meeting.
Didn't move once.
But I could feel the pressure of his gaze every time Elarion smiled in my direction.
I didn't return it.
But I didn't look away, either.
Elarion never spoke to me during the meeting.
But when it ended — after the bowing, the paperwork, the slow and poisonous dismissal of every minister in the room — he turned to the queen and said:
"There's one more thing, Your Majesty."
The queen didn't answer.
He stepped forward, slow, graceful.
And turned fully to me.
"I request the presence of the first prince at tomorrow's feast."
Silence.
Not a pause.
A suffocation.
The air died.
I heard the court inhale. One massive breath.
I heard the king shift — the first sound he'd made all day.
I felt Kael's gaze narrow.
Not physically.
Not emotionally.
Magically.
The seal beneath my skin flared.
Queen Seryne's voice dropped.
"The first prince is not presented publicly."
Elarion didn't flinch.
He bowed again, lower.
"My apologies. In Solhara, we make no distinction between birth and purity of blood. If I have offended—"
"You have."
The words dropped like knives.
Kael still hadn't moved.
But the seal pulsed again.
Once. Twice.
A warning.
Elarion looked at me.
Then back to the queen.
"Still, I would be honored if the prince attended."
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
The silence she left behind was louder than any decree.
That night, my door didn't open.
But someone left a box on the floor.
Inside: a robe.
Not Aelorian.
Solharan cut. Loose sleeves. Midnight blue silk.
No instructions.
No threat.
No name.
But I knew.
It wasn't from Elarion.
It was from Kael.
I folded it back into the box and set it beside my bed.
I didn't sleep.
I sat with the candle burning low, robe clinging to my skin, wondering what it meant that someone from the Empire had asked for me…
...and that Kael had let him.
The next night, I was dressed in the Solharan robe.
No one stopped me.
No guards at the stairwell. No summons. No threats.
Just open doors.
The feast hall was alive with gold.
Light poured from every enchanted flame. The tables were dressed with silverleaf and fruits I hadn't seen in years.
And Elarion sat at the center, glowing like something holy.
He saw me immediately.
Didn't wave. Didn't gesture.
Just smiled.
And nodded to the seat beside him.
Not the lowest seat.
Not at the servant's table.
Beside him.
The queen's eyes burned.
Kael wasn't there.
Not yet.
I walked the length of the hall alone.
No one stopped me.
But I could feel their eyes.
The mutters.
The tension.
And Elarion?
He pulled out my chair himself.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
As if I had a choice.
As if he hadn't just declared war by inviting me.
I sat.
Didn't speak.
Didn't eat.
But I felt the heat of his presence beside me.
Not intrusive.
Not overwhelming.
Just present.
Like he was giving me space that had never been mine before.
Halfway through the feast, Kael entered.
Silence followed him like shadow.
He wore black.
Not formal robes.
Not his ceremonial garb.
Just simple, layered black silk, stitched at the shoulders.
His mask was back on.
But it didn't hide the weight of his arrival.
He didn't look at me.
Didn't look at Elarion.
He took the seat behind the queen and sat without a word.
The seal in my chest didn't pulse.
It sang.
Soft.
Distant.
Like a thread being pulled tight.
Elarion leaned slightly toward me.
His voice barely a breath.
"Do you want to leave?"
I didn't answer.
Not because I didn't know.
Because I didn't trust what it would mean if I said yes.
I left at the end of the feast, before dessert.
No one stopped me.
No one followed.
But when I returned to my room, the box was gone.
In its place?
A mirror.
Cracked down the center.
Covered in dust.
I didn't touch it.
But when I looked into it…
I thought I saw my own reflection smile.
Even though I wasn't.