"I shouldn't have let you come," Kaelen muttered, one hand braced against the carriage wall as it jolted over the rough terrain.
"It wasn't your choice to begin with," I said coolly, keeping my gaze fixed out the narrow window. "I was not going to stay behind."
His jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're walking into."
"No," I admitted quietly. "But I should see it."
He didn't reply, but I saw the flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew the weight of what I meant. If I was to bear the title they'd thrust upon me—Queen—then I would not look away from the cost.
The ride was mercifully short. As the iron gates of Caerthrone creaked open, smoke curled through the streets like the fingers of some vengeful god. The silence between us shattered under the weight of what lay ahead.
Kaelen leapt from the carriage before it stopped moving, already barking orders to his men. I followed, my feet hitting the ground with a jolt that rattled up my spine. The air reeked of scorched wood and something darker—blood, sweat, ash, grief. It clung to everything.
The devastation unfolded like a fever dream.
Shops stood as blackened husks. A once-cheerful market square was littered with broken glass and smoldering debris. A man sat in the middle of the street, cradling his wife's body, rocking her gently as if she were only asleep. Children huddled in broken doorways, their faces hollow with shock. Their silence cut deeper than screams.
I moved through the wreckage as if underwater, the sounds around me dulled and distant. Soldiers shadowed me, trying to shield me from the worst, but I shook them off. I didn't want protection. I wanted truth.
I stopped beside a mother kneeling in the rubble, her sobs raw and unrelenting. I meant only to offer comfort, a hand, a word. But she seized my wrist and pressed it to the small chest of the boy cradled in her lap.
Still warm.
"He just wanted to see you," she whispered through broken breaths. "Said he wanted to see the new Queen."
The weight of that nearly shattered me.
I stood, but the world tilted slightly. My lungs fought for air.
---
In the makeshift infirmary, the scent of infection and singed flesh made the air heavy. A soldier, half-covered in bloodied bandages, beckoned weakly to Kaelen.
His face was drained of color, lips cracked and trembling. I stayed close behind Kaelen, my presence unnoticed—or ignored.
"They wore the silver star," the soldier rasped, his voice thick with pain. "Prince Saelow's men."
I stopped breathing.
"They said it was a warning," he added. "For the Queen of Traitors."
Silence slammed down on us.
Kaelen's body went rigid. My knees buckled slightly, and I reached out, fingers gripping his arm for balance. Without a word, he placed his hand over mine—steadying, anchoring.
But the warmth of his touch couldn't stop the cold that sank into me.
Saelow? Could he truly have done this?
Or had someone made it look like he had?
---
By the time we returned to the fortress, dusk had swallowed the sky. The manor loomed ahead, torchlight flickering against its stone face like watching eyes. We walked in silence, side by side but worlds apart.
When we reached Kaelen's chambers, he didn't speak. The heavy door clicked shut behind us with the finality of a sealed tomb.
He peeled off his gloves slowly, methodically, as though grounding himself in the motion. I stood across from him, arms crossed, waiting—aching.
The silence stretched until it felt unbearable.
"You plan to fight him," I said.
Kaelen didn't look at me. "I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"He gave none." His voice was low, tight. "He sent a message with fire and death."
I stepped forward. "The men wore his crest—but they could have been imposters. You know how easy it is to forge a banner."
Kaelen turned sharply, his eyes flashing. "Don't lie to yourself. You saw the bodies. Heard what the soldier said."
His voice rose, thick with fury and something more dangerous—pain.
"You saw mothers mourning. Children left with nothing. Don't they deserve retribution?"
I drew closer. "And you think more death will bring them peace?"
He looked away. I pressed on.
"Let me speak to Saelow. Just once. Give me a chance to—"
"Enough." The word cut across mine like a blade.
I fell silent. His hands trembled slightly before he shoved them into his hair, dragging it back from his face.
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I just... I can't let this stand. If I do, they'll think I'm weak. That we are."
He said we.
That single word fractured me.
I reached out and laid my hand over his heart. "Please, Kaelen. Don't do this. Don't go to war with my brother. Let me try first. Let me be something other than a symbol. Let me be a bridge."
He stared down at my hand, his breath uneven.
For a moment, I thought—hoped—he might say yes.
Then he reached up and gently took my wrist, his fingers warm but firm as he peeled my hand away.
"I can't," he whispered.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then he turned.
And left me standing in the dark—alone