Chapter 3: The First Wife Watches
High above the Hall of Flames, tucked behind silken drapes and enchanted mirrors, Queen Maevia watched.
She had been Kaelen's first wife—chosen ten years ago when the kingdom was still finding its breath after the Great Accord. Maevia had been his match in every way: noble-born, politically astute, as poised in council as she was lethal in the sparring yard. She had loved him once, perhaps still did—but love in Ilyrá's court was never pure. It came tied to thrones, to alliances, to power.
And now, there was her.
Liora.
The girl who had stolen the spirits' attention with a single touch. The girl whose name the Crown Tree had burned into the air like a celestial prophecy.
Maevia narrowed her eyes. "She's dangerous," she whispered.
A voice stirred beside her. "So were you, once."
It was Serel, her shadow-consort and most trusted advisor. He leaned against the window's edge, arms folded, gaze sharp.
"She isn't just some country sorceress," Maevia said. "Did you see the way Kaelen looked at her? Like he recognized something."
"He did," Serel said. "He recognized his future."
Maevia clenched her fist.
Down in the court, the other candidates still waited, though the ceremony had lost its momentum. The spirits had made their choice, but tradition demanded a full procession. Maevia knew better than to fear the other women. They came with gold, charm, alliances. But none of them came wrapped in destiny.
And destiny was the one thing even Maevia couldn't outmaneuver.
Later that night, in her private chambers, Liora stood before a gilded mirror. Her gown shimmered, the silver threads catching moonlight, and her hair fell in loose waves down her back. But her eyes were elsewhere.
She touched the mark that had appeared on her palm—faint, glowing blue, the same hue as the Crown Tree's light. It hadn't hurt. It hadn't even surprised her. In her bones, she had always known that she was meant for more than exile, more than the ashes of her mother's disgrace.
There was a knock at her door.
She turned, heart still.
The door opened.
King Kaelen stepped inside, unguarded, unarmed, his crown left behind.
"I had to see you," he said.
Liora didn't bow.
"You saw me already," she replied. "The whole court did."
He smiled slightly. "Not like this."
Silence stretched between them, rich with magic and uncertainty.
Finally, she asked, "Do you know why the spirits chose me?"
Kaelen's gaze darkened, thoughtful.
"No," he said. "But I intend to find out."