The immortal's bride

The night stretched on with a stillness that pressed against the walls of Aelia's chamber. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver veins across the marble floor. She sat on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, her thoughts tangled and tight like threads of a web she couldn't escape.

Everything felt too loud inside her mind—Kael's words from earlier, Elira's fate, the threat of the council, and most of all, the rising unease pulsing from somewhere deep inside her. Something was waking in her. Something she didn't understand.

She didn't hear the knock. Only the door creaking open startled her.

Kael stepped in.

He was still wearing his black cloak, dusted faintly with frost from the night air, and his tunic was unfastened at the collar. His hair was unbound, falling in dark waves past his shoulders—untamed, unlike the man she had first met. There was something raw in him tonight, something stripped bare.

Her body tensed as she sat up straighter, wary, exhausted.

"You're awake," he said quietly, pausing just inside the room.

She didn't answer. Instead, she stared at him, unsure of what he had come to do—say more hurtful things? Remind her again that her place here was as a savior, not a woman?

He moved to the center of the room and stood in front of the dying fire, his silhouette rimmed in orange glow.

"I wanted to speak to you," he said. "Not as king. Just… as myself."

The anger in her simmered. "Is that possible? Do you even remember how to be anything but king?"

His jaw twitched. "That's fair."

Silence settled again, heavy with everything unsaid.

Kael looked at her finally, his silver eyes reflecting the flames. "You asked me once why I brought you here. And I never gave you an answer. Not really."

"I stopped expecting one," Aelia said.

He stepped closer. "I brought you here because you're powerful. Because you're the only one with a bond to the Veilfire that hasn't lost their mind. Because the council feared you. And because…" he paused. "Because I knew if we didn't find you first, someone else would."

Her throat tightened.

"I never told you I loved you," he went on, more quietly now. "And I won't lie to you about that. My heart… it's never been soft. I've spent centuries building walls so nothing could touch it again. Not loss. Not grief. Not guilt."

She blinked back the sting of tears she didn't want to feel.

"But," Kael said, "that doesn't mean you're nothing to me."

He knelt in front of her bed. She hadn't expected that. The king of the realm, on his knees, his cloak pooling behind him like shadows unfurling.

"I don't see you as a tool, Aelia. You're not just the girl with the power to save us. You're the only one who might understand what I've buried for too long."

Her lips parted, but no words came.

He studied her, his gaze searching, tired. "But I won't tell you everything now."

Aelia's hands tightened in her lap. "Why not?"

"Because the truth is dangerous. And you're not ready."

She frowned. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child."

"I'm not," he said, a little more firmly. "I'm talking to you like someone who's seen what that power can do when it's untrained. When it wakes before the mind is ready."

He rose, slowly. "There's a fire in you, Aelia. One that could burn kingdoms. But only if you know how to wield it."

She swallowed hard. "So you're just going to keep me in the dark?"

"No." He exhaled. "I'm going to train you."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"From tomorrow," he continued, "you'll come to my chambers after dusk. Every night. And little by little, I will teach you how to control it. And as you learn, I will tell you everything you need to know—about the Veilfire, your past, and the war that's coming."

Aelia didn't speak right away. Her chest felt tight with everything—distrust, confusion, hope she didn't want to feel.

He tilted his head. "Do you agree?"

She met his eyes. "Why do you care if I do?"

Kael looked at her, and something cracked behind his expression—a small fracture in the stone. "Because if you fall," he said quietly, "this realm falls with you."

The truth of it hung in the air, cold and sharp.

Finally, Aelia gave the smallest nod. "Fine. I'll come."

His shoulders loosened—just a fraction.

Then he turned to leave, his cloak swaying behind him like smoke. His hand hovered over the doorknob.

"Kael," she called.

He paused.

"I still don't forgive you," she said, voice low.

He nodded without looking back. "I don't expect you to."

Then the door closed, and Aelia was left alone with her thoughts—uncertain, trembling, but no longer trapped.

For the first time in weeks, the path forward had a shape.

Tomorrow, it would begin.

---