The palace felt colder than usual.
Not from weather—but from the eyes that now followed Ariana through its corridors.
Whispers spread like rot. Eldareth-blooded. Hidden royalty. Firewitch. Each title stuck to her like a curse. Some bowed deeper than ever before. Others recoiled as if her touch could burn them.
She wore her mother's ring like armor.
Damian hadn't left her side since the vision. Kairo, though silent, watched the shadows too closely.
They all sensed it.
Something was coming.
That night, Ariana was meant to dine in the lesser council hall with nobles who had sworn loyalty post-rebellion. Damian was delayed—summoned by the War Minister. Kairo offered to accompany her, but she waved him off with a tired smile.
She entered the chamber alone.
Golden candles flickered low. The scent of wine and citrus hung in the air. Thirteen nobles sat already—too quiet. Too still.
Ariana's brows furrowed. "Where is Lord Virelith?"
"He will not be joining us," murmured Lady Merien, her eyes blank.
Ariana froze. Not blank. Glazed.
Something was wrong.
Pain lanced through her skull. A sudden pressure.
Then the candles flared—then extinguished.
Darkness.
Then a shriek.
Then silence.
Ariana gripped the back of a chair, heart thudding as boots scraped against stone. A blade hissed.
"Found you," a voice purred in the dark. Male. Familiar.
The candles reignited with blue flame—not from wax, but from her.
A tall man stepped into view, cloaked in the silken black of Eldareth assassins. His face was half-hidden by a mask, but his eyes gleamed violet.
"I was told the heir of Elanora would be weak. This is disappointing."
Ariana's blood boiled. "Tell your Circle they were wrong."
The assassin flicked a dagger toward her throat—
It stopped mid-air.
Frozen. Crystallized by flame, then shattered.
Ariana's body moved before she could think—fire rippling from her palms, licking across the air in bright lashes. The assassin dodged, but not fast enough. His cloak caught fire.
He screamed. Rolled. Recovered.
"You don't understand the war you've stepped into, girl. You should've stayed hidden."
"I was never meant to hide."
The fire roared behind her. Her eyes glowed gold.
The man threw three more blades—but Damian burst through the door, sword drawn, and cut them down midair.
"Ariana!" he shouted, voice raw.
"I've got this," she snapped, stepping forward.
The assassin vanished into smoke—but not before shouting:
"The Circle sees you now, Flameborn. We are coming."
Aftermath
Guards found several nobles unconscious—drugged by the same spell used on Ariana during the banquet. Lady Merien was still mumbling a foreign tongue.
The assassin's cloak bore a mark none could ignore: the Eldareth Serpent Crown.
Kairo stormed into Ariana's chamber later that night, fury etched into every word. "You should have let me come with you."
"And what? Watched me almost die in front of you?"
"Yes," he growled. "Because next time… you might not survive."
She turned away, breath trembling. "I was supposed to be a queen. Not a weapon."
Damian stepped in. "You can be both. But only if we stay one step ahead."
Ariana turned to them both.
"No more delays," s
he said. "It's time I uncover everything my mother tried to hide. We strike first—before the Circle does."