The sky darkened before the rain began.
Elira stood beneath the palace arches, watching the clouds roll in. Her armor glistened faintly in the dimming light, shoulders squared and posture perfect. She looked like a statue—but inside, her heart hadn't settled since the king's words that morning.
"You are my most trusted companion," he'd said. He didn't have to say what was beneath it. She felt it. Every time his eyes softened on her. Every time he walked too close. Every time he said her name like it meant more than duty.
But she couldn't let herself answer it. Not now. Not ever.
"I am your servant, Your Royal Highness," she whispered to the wind.
Behind her, soft footsteps approached. Elira turned, her hand brushing the hilt of her sword out of instinct—then relaxed.
It was him.
King Caelum wore no crown, only a black cloak fastened over his shoulders. The storm light made his eyes glow a pale silver. She knew what that meant. His power—it always stirred when the skies did.
"Does the storm make you uneasy?" he asked, stepping beside her.
"No," she said. "But I can feel something... shifting."
"You always could." His voice was low, as if they shared a secret.
She didn't answer.
After a silence, he spoke again, softer. "There's something I need to show you."
He turned and walked toward the private west tower, the place where no one but the royal bloodline was allowed. Elira hesitated, but then followed. She had never disobeyed a command from him—and this wasn't one. But it felt like one.
The tower spiral led them high above the rest of the palace, to a circular chamber bathed in blue glass. Strange markings shimmered on the stone floor—symbols of old, from an era when kings were more than mortal men.
Caelum stood at the center, the wind rustling through the open windows around them.
"I've kept this from everyone," he said, looking down at his hands. "Even my council. Even my mother."
Elira watched him in silence.
Then he raised his palm—and the air shimmered.
Lightning danced across his fingertips, controlled and quiet, like it was waiting for his command. Then it vanished, leaving nothing but stillness.
She didn't step back. She didn't flinch.
"I know," she said calmly.
His eyes snapped to hers. "You… knew?"
"You're not subtle," she said. "The way the sky answers your anger. The way the fire bends around you. I've watched you for years."
He exhaled slowly, the weight lifting from his shoulders.
"Why didn't you ever ask me?"
"Because you didn't want to be feared," she said. "And I never have."
He looked at her then—not as a king, not as a sorcerer—but as Caelum.
"Elira," he said, his voice almost breaking, "I wish you'd just say my name. Just once. Like I'm yours."
Her heart ached—but her voice was steady.
"I am your servant, Your Royal Highness."
Outside, thunder cracked.
And Caelum's heart shattered again.
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