The immortal's bride

The air in Kael's chambers was warmer than she expected, with the scent of old books, cedarwood, and something darker—like smoke after rain. Aelia stepped cautiously through the arching doorway, the heavy stone behind her closing with a deep thud. She hadn't knocked.

He was already waiting.

Kael stood near the center of the room, sleeves rolled up, a small silver dagger glinting in his hand. His hair was tied back, leaving his face exposed, sharp and solemn.

He glanced at her without speaking, then nodded toward the center rug. "Come."

Aelia obeyed, drawing in a breath as she moved closer. The room was dimly lit, the fire casting shadows that danced along the high stone walls. She spotted ancient runes etched into the floor—faintly glowing, like embers waiting to catch.

"What are those?" she asked.

"Wards," he said. "To keep the Veilfire contained… if it lashes out."

Her heartbeat fluttered. "You think it will?"

"I think," he said, slowly unsheathing another blade from his belt and offering it to her, "you need to know what you're capable of."

She stared at the weapon in her hand. It was cold. Heavy. Beautiful.

Kael stepped closer, his voice low and even. "Close your eyes."

She hesitated. "Why?"

"Because everything you need to reach is inside you," he said, circling her. "The power isn't out here. It's waiting beneath your skin."

Aelia obeyed, her lashes lowering. Her breath grew quieter.

"I want you to remember the moment it first surged," Kael whispered. "The day in the field. When you saw me bleeding. When you screamed. When the flames came alive."

Her grip tightened on the dagger.

Kael's voice was like a storm, calm but stirring. "What did it feel like?"

"Like something else took over me," she murmured. "Something ancient. Like… rage and grief. But clearer than thought. It wasn't mine, and yet it was."

"Good," Kael said. "Now call it again."

Her brows drew together. "I don't know how."

"Yes," he said, stepping so close behind her she could feel the warmth of his breath at her nape. "You do."

Aelia inhaled.

She reached.

And something moved.

Like a match striking flint, heat flared up her spine, curling through her veins. The dagger in her hand pulsed—then burned hot. Her eyes snapped open, and the blade glowed blue-white, flames licking its edge without consuming it.

She gasped.

Kael didn't flinch.

Instead, he stepped in front of her, slowly raising his own blade. "Now channel it."

She lifted her weapon, her hands trembling as the magic surged. Kael brought his dagger to meet hers, metal ringing on metal. Sparks danced through the air as the Veilfire clashed against his steel.

She pushed.

He pushed harder.

Their eyes locked—hers wide with wonder and fear, his unreadable but intense.

Then suddenly—it cracked. The energy burst from her like a whip of flame, slamming Kael back a step. She dropped the dagger, heart pounding, sweat dotting her brow.

The blade hissed against the rug, then went dark.

Kael's chest rose and fell sharply, but he said nothing. He just stared at her.

"I didn't mean to," Aelia whispered.

"I know."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," he said. "But you're stronger than you think."

She looked down at her hands. They still glowed faintly. "What happens when I can't stop it?"

"You will," he said, stepping closer. "In time."

They were only a breath apart now. And Aelia, still trembling from the release of magic, suddenly felt everything—the weight of his eyes, the warmth between them, the scent of fire and winter and him.

Kael reached up and brushed a curl from her cheek. "That was good."

Her voice was barely audible. "I thought you didn't touch people."

"I don't," he said. "But I never said I didn't want to."

Aelia's breath caught.

He cupped her jaw, his thumb grazing her cheek. Slowly. Carefully. She leaned into the touch without meaning to, her eyes fluttering shut.

It was the softest thing he'd ever done.

And then his forehead pressed gently to hers. He didn't kiss her. Not yet. But the heat between them was a flame of its own.

"I will teach you," he murmured. "Everything. But promise me something."

Her lips parted. "What?"

"When you're ready… don't run from the truth."

Aelia opened her eyes.

"I won't," she whispered.

Kael exhaled, the tension in his shoulders softening.

And then—finally—he kissed her.

Not with desperation or command, but slowly, reverently. As if the moment might break. As if she might vanish.

When they parted, his hand lingered against her face. And for a flicker of time, she thought she saw it—the man behind the king.

The boy behind the warrior.

She stepped back first.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, breathless.

Kael nodded once. "Same time."

And as Aelia walked back to her chamber, she wasn't sure if it was the training or the kiss that left her burning more.

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