The palace did not burn all at once.
It began with a sound.
Not an explosion, not a scream, but a low, tearing groan that vibrated through stone and bone alike. Elowen Vale felt it through the soles of her boots as she crossed the inner courtyard, a shudder that made her stumble and grip the tray in her hands.
Then the sky split open.
Fire burst from the western spire in a violent bloom of blue and white, so bright it turned night into something harsh and exposed. Heat followed instantly, slamming into her chest and forcing the breath from her lungs. Glass detonated outward, shards screaming as they struck stone and flesh.
Elowen dropped to her knees.
People screamed. Bells wailed. Magic flooded the air, sharp and metallic, tasting of lightning and blood.
This was royal fire.
Everyone knew the difference. Royal fire did not flicker. It devoured.
Guards ran past her, some shouting orders, others simply shouting. Smoke rolled low across the courtyard, thick enough to choke. The wards that protected the citadel screamed as they failed, their ancient hum dissolving into a fractured whine that made Elowen's head ache.
She should have run.
Instead, she stood.
The eastern tower began to collapse, stone folding inward like a broken spine. As it fell, fire spilled through the breach and illuminated the figure standing at the heart of the destruction.
Kael Morren.
Crown Prince of Aurelion.
He was surrounded by flame that did not touch him. It coiled around his body, responsive and wild, casting sharp shadows across his face. Blood streaked his temple. His jaw was clenched so tightly Elowen could see the muscle jump.
And his eyes were not on the fire.
They were on her.
The moment stretched, thin and unbearable.
Recognition crossed his face, followed by disbelief. Then fear, raw and unguarded.
Not for himself.
For her.
The fire surged violently, reacting to something unseen. Elowen's chest burned as if someone had pressed a brand to her sternum. Her knees buckled.
She felt it wake.
Something ancient shifted inside her blood, answering the chaos with a pulse of hunger.
"No," she whispered, though she did not know what she was refusing.
Steel rang out.
Guards swarmed Kael from all sides, enchanted blades flashing. Someone shouted traitor, and the word spread like infection. Kael did not fight them. He let them force him to his knees, his gaze never leaving Elowen's face.
As iron shackles closed around his wrists, the fire died.
The silence afterward was worse.