The carriage wheels ground to a halt, jerking me forward in my seat. My palms were damp, my throat tight. Outside, muffled commands rang through the night as guards shifted into formation.
The prince pushed open the carriage door. Cold air swept in, carrying the smell of burning torches and stone. "Come," he said.
Two soldiers stepped up immediately, one on each side of me. Their armored hands didn't shove, but their presence pressed like iron chains. I swallowed and climbed down onto the cobblestones.
The sight before me stole the breath from my lungs.
The castle loomed above, a mountain of pale stone rising into the night sky. Towers spiraled upward, their banners of deep blue snapping in the wind. Torches blazed along the walls, their light reflecting on polished gates inlaid with silver. It was like standing before the heart of another world, a place I did not belong.
Around us, servants hurried down the steps. Maids with folded hands, butlers with stiff backs, all gathering in the courtyard to witness the prince's return. Their eyes darted toward me, then quickly away, yet not fast enough to hide the flickers of curiosity—fear, even.
The carriage behind us creaked as the children were brought out. Jakie stumbled, glaring at the guard who gripped his arm, but Skylar caught him before he could resist. July and June clung to each other, their faces pale and streaked with tears.
"Take them," the prince commanded.
A cluster of servants stepped forward immediately. Maids moved to the girls, voices soft as they coaxed them away. A butler bowed sharply before leading them toward the servant's wing. July's wide eyes met mine for a fleeting second, her lips trembling as if she wanted to call out, but the maid hushed her and swept her inside.
Jakie was pulled in a different direction, toward the barracks that lined the far side of the courtyard. He twisted in the soldier's grip, his small fists clenched. "Let me go! I don't need your training!"
I tried to step toward him, but a guard's hand fell heavy on my shoulder, holding me back. My heart lurched as Jakie's voice rang out again. "I'll find you! I swear I'll find you!"
His words echoed in the cold night air until distance swallowed them.
"Move."
The command left no room for hesitation.
The prince walked ahead, cloak trailing, and I was forced to follow between two guards. Every step toward the great doors made my stomach twist tighter. The servants who lingered in the courtyard bowed their heads as the prince passed, yet I still felt their eyes flicker over me, heavy with suspicion. My red hair glinted in the torchlight—betraying me, marking me.
The enormous doors groaned open, revealing a hall lined with marble and banners of blue silk. Torches burned in silver sconces, their flames reflected in the polished floor. The air smelled of incense and steel.
We marched deeper, each footstep echoing like thunder. My chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.
At the far end of the hall, the throne room doors loomed. Two massive panels of carved wood, guarded by men in ceremonial armor. Their spears crossed as the prince approached, then lowered at his gesture.
The doors swung wide.
My knees almost buckled.
Inside, the throne room stretched vast and cold. Stained glass windows painted the walls with blue and silver light. The throne itself, carved of dark stone, sat elevated on a dais of marble steps. And upon it sat the king.
He was older than the prince, his hair the same striking blue but streaked with gray at the temples. His crown rested lightly on his brow, yet the weight of his gaze was heavier than iron. His robes of deep navy shimmered with threads of silver, his posture sharp and commanding.
"Father," the prince said, his voice formal as he bowed slightly. "I've returned from the lower town. There is… something you must see."
The king's piercing eyes slid past his son and landed on me.
The weight of that look rooted me in place. It was as though he could see straight through my skin, straight into the blood I carried, into the truth I didn't even fully understand.
The guards halted me several paces away, forcing me to stand alone in the center of the hall. My heart hammered against my ribs.
The king's voice cut through the silence, deep and measured.
"Who is this boy you've brought before me?"
Great! Let's continue Chapter 7 right into the tense interrogation with the king. I'll keep it consistent: the prince still thinks you're a boy, the red hair is a dangerous sign, and the king is deciding your fate.
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Chapter 7 – The Throne Room (continued)
The air in the throne room was sharp, colder than the night outside. My breath caught in my chest as the king's gaze bore down on me.
"This boy," the prince said carefully, stepping forward, "was caught stealing in the lower market. But that is not why I brought him here."
The king's brows rose slightly. "Go on."
The prince hesitated, then spoke the words that sealed me tighter into this cage. "His hair. Father… he carries the mark of the Fire Kingdom."
A ripple passed through the hall. Servants at the edges exchanged uneasy glances, guards shifted slightly, though their faces remained blank. The words hung heavy in the air—Fire Kingdom. A nation meant to be long dead, its people scattered, its royals slaughtered.
The king leaned forward on his throne, eyes narrowing at me. The torchlight caught in his irises, making them glow like blue steel.
"Raise your head, boy."
I had not realized I'd been staring at the floor, afraid of his gaze. Slowly, I lifted my chin. The light fell across my face, and my hair—red as flame—seemed to burn brighter in the vast hall.
A long silence followed.
At last, the king spoke. His voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that made my stomach churn.
"The Fire Kingdom is gone. Its royal line extinguished. And yet here you stand… with their blood in your veins."
"I—" My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again, forcing words through the tightness in my throat. "I don't know anything about that. I never knew my parents."
The king's gaze didn't waver. "Do not lie to me, boy. No commoner carries hair like that."
"I swear it," I said quickly, the desperation raw in my voice. "I was abandoned as a baby. I grew up in the lower town. That's all I know."
For the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes—doubt, perhaps, or the shadow of thought. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
The prince stepped in then, his tone measured but firm. "Father, whether he knows the truth or not, his existence alone is… dangerous. A boy bearing the Fire Kingdom's mark could become a symbol. People are restless enough as it is."
The king leaned back, fingers drumming once against the arm of his throne. His gaze never left me.
"Tell me, boy. Do you harbor loyalty to the Fire Kingdom? To the ashes of its throne?"
My heart pounded so loudly I thought he must hear it. I shook my head, the words tumbling out fast. "No, Your Majesty. I don't. I only know the water country. I've lived here all my life. The Fire Kingdom means nothing to me."
The lie stung my tongue, though I didn't even know why. Perhaps because some part of me whispered it wasn't a lie at all—not entirely.
The king studied me in silence. The weight of it pressed on me until my knees nearly buckled.
At last, he exhaled slowly.
"You may not even know what you are. That, at least, I believe. But belief does not erase risk. A single spark can ignite an empire's ruin."
He rose from his throne then, his figure tall and commanding. His footsteps echoed as he descended the steps, coming closer. My body went rigid as he stopped before me, his presence overwhelming.
"You are no ordinary thief," the king said, his voice low, for me alone. "You are a question. And questions demand answers."
I dared a glance up. His face was unreadable, carved from stone.
"You will not be executed—yet," he said at last, his voice carrying across the hall. "But neither will you be freed. Until I decide your fate, you will remain under guard in this castle."
The relief that surged in me was sharp and fleeting, quickly drowned by the dread of what he had not said.
The prince bowed his head. "As you will, Father."
The king's command struck like a hammer:
"Take him to the west wing. He will be watched day and night. No one is to speak of this outside these walls. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the guards echoed.
Cold hands clamped around my arms. My body went stiff, dread churning in my stomach as they turned me toward the door.
But just as they began to lead me away, the great doors of the throne room creaked open. The sound silenced the room instantly. Every servant froze, the guards stopped mid-step.
A woman entered. Her gown shimmered like rippling silk, its pale fabric flowing with each movement. Her hair—long, soft, and green as emerald fields—caught the torchlight in a way that made it glow. Grace radiated from her with every step, though her expression was sharp, commanding.
The queen.
"Stop," she said, her voice smooth yet carrying the weight of command. The guards halted immediately.
Her gaze swept the room before landing on me. For a moment, she simply studied me, her expression unreadable. Then her eyes narrowed, and something flickered in them—recognition? No, something deeper.
She stepped closer, her delicate hand lifting slightly.
"What are you doing," she said, her tone suddenly sharper, "to that poor girl?"
The words seemed to crash into the room like thunder.
The guards stiffened, confused glances darting to one another. The prince's head snapped toward her, his brow furrowed. "Mother—he's not a girl. He's—"
The queen cut him off with a single look. "Do not argue with me."
She came to stand directly before me. Her eyes, a luminous green, searched my face with an intensity that made me tremble. Then her gaze drifted lower—to the iron grip of the guards on my arms. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Release her," she commanded.
The guards hesitated, exchanging nervous looks. None dared move without the king's word.
The king rose again, his face storm-dark. "Wife," he said slowly, warningly, "you are mistaken. This is a boy."
The queen's head turned, her voice calm but certain. "No, husband. I see clearly. That is no boy you've caught in your net. That is a girl."
The hall went silent. My breath caught in my chest, the pounding of my heart deafening in my ears.