The fire in her words followed me long after I left her chamber.
Then perhaps I will devour them first.
I had not heard such defiance from mortal lips in centuries. Not since the days when men still carried torches to castle gates and believed themselves capable of burning monsters from their halls. Even then, their fire had been desperation, not conviction.
Hers was something else.
It clung to me as I walked the silent corridors, my shadow stretching long over silver-veined stone. The palace was hushed at this hour, its vast halls lit only by the cold flame of lanterns. But I could still feel her. The bond thrummed faintly in my veins, echoing with her heartbeat, as though some part of her had followed me into the dark.
The silence pressed heavier than usual. I did not like it.
The Crimson Court did not rest. Not truly. Even in the deep hours, chambers flickered with candlelight and voices carried faintly on the air. Laughter, whispers, the clink of goblets, the faint sigh of mortal throats.
I entered the Lesser Hall, a chamber draped in velvet, its ceiling hung with chandeliers of bone and silver. The air reeked of spilt wine and the richer tang of blood. Nobles lounged on couches, their eyes gleaming too bright in the candlelight, their mouths red-stained. A mortal boy knelt near the hearth, dazed, his neck bandaged hastily.
They rose when I entered.
Always, they rose.
"Your Majesty," drawled Lady Selvara, her voice soft as silk. She was draped in crimson gauze, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink. Her lips curved into something too sharp to be called a smile. "You grace us at an unusual hour."
I did not sit. "The hour is mine to choose."
Selvara inclined her head. Around her, the others settled uneasily. Their hunger was sharp tonight, threaded with curiosity.
"You showed us your queen at last," said Lord Veynar, thin and pale, his eyes silver-bright. He swirled the goblet in his hand, watching the liquid darken as it clung to the rim. "A mortal. Curious, is it not, that you would name one so fragile queen of the Crimson Court?"
The others murmured. Their voices carried the low thrum of discontent.
"She stood unflinching," Selvara said, though her tone made it a challenge rather than praise. "Is that why she yet lives? To unsettle us?"
"She unsettles herself," Veynar muttered. "The bond is not complete. The covenant was spoken, but not… sealed."
A ripple of amusement stirred the chamber, cruel and hungry.
I let it crest. Then I cut it down.
"Her life," I said softly, "is not yours to measure."
Silence. The flames guttered low, as though bowing.
My voice did not rise, but the weight of it pressed into them all the same. "Do you doubt my judgment? Do you believe I crown her without reason?"
Selvara lowered her gaze. Veynar looked away.
Good. Let their whispers turn inward. Let them gnaw on their own unease.
Later, when I left them, their murmurs trailed me down the hall.
They did not understand. That was as it should be.
But the bond pulsed still, stronger than it should.
Mortals did not echo in the blood like this. They burned bright and brief, then faded. I had seen it a hundred times, a thousand. The covenants took from them until nothing remained.
Yet she endured.
Not only endured—she resisted.
Her fire had not dimmed. It burned brighter, lashing against the silence I wrapped her in. Each day I left her alone, I expected the flame to gutter. Each night, I found it waiting, sharp and stubborn.
And tonight, when I had stood a breath away, when her chin had lifted and her eyes had not broken from mine…
For a heartbeat, the silence had almost cracked.
Not yet.
I could not. Not until I understood what she was.
The palace breathed differently in its higher towers. The air was colder, touched with the river's breath. From the balcony of my private chamber, I looked out over the city. Spires pierced the night sky, each crowned with lanterns. The streets below wound like veins, faint light glimmering where mortals huddled in the markets, still awake though the hour was late.
The river coiled silver, a serpent of moonlight, binding palace and city alike.
Beyond it, the land stretched dark and endless.
A thousand years I had reigned here, and the night had always felt mine. But tonight, it felt… altered.
I placed my hand against the stone balustrade. The bond hummed faintly, tugging at me like a chain. Her heartbeat thrummed against my palm though miles of wall and shadow lay between us.
I closed my eyes. For a moment, I let myself imagine stepping through the door I had left closed. Let myself imagine the warmth of her pulse beneath my mouth, the fire of her defiance pressed against me, the taste of flame on my tongue.
My hand curled against the stone until it cracked beneath my grip.
No.
Not yet.
The court watched. The bond stirred. The silence burned.
She is fire.
And if I am not careful, I will burn.