Night fell heavy over the capital, blanketing the palace in silence and candlelight. Elira stood outside the king's chamber, motionless as a statue. The corridor was empty—save for the low hum of torches on the walls and the weight of her thoughts.
She hadn't moved since the queen's warning hours earlier.
You already hurt him, the queen had said. If he loses control, only you will be able to bring him back.
Elira pressed a hand to her armored chest. She could still feel the ache from Caelum's voice in the tower. His plea. The softness he so rarely let anyone see.
But before she could sort through it, the doors before her opened.
Caelum stood inside, his tunic unbuttoned at the collar, dark hair tousled, his eyes distant and shadowed. Behind him, maps were strewn across the table, alongside scattered notes in his hand.
"Come in," he said.
Elira stepped inside, but her boots halted just past the threshold. He noticed.
"You never relax," he said, not accusingly. More… tiredly. "Even here. Even with me."
"I'm your guard," she said. "Relaxing is not part of the oath."
He turned, walking toward the table, his back to her now. "Then maybe it's the oath that's flawed."
She stiffened.
"There's unrest near the border," he continued, changing subjects. "I may need to leave the capital. Visit the provinces. Show strength. My council thinks it's too risky to travel so soon after the eclipse."
"You should stay," Elira said instantly. "There are safer ways to send a message."
"But I'm not a message. I'm a king. And kings go."
She stepped forward slightly. "Then I go with you."
Caelum turned. The stormlight was in his eyes again—faint, swirling silver.
"Elira," he said softly. "If something happens to me out there, if I lose control of my gift—if it becomes too much—will you do it?"
Her breath caught. "Do what?"
He took a step closer. "Stop me. If the magic overtakes me. If I'm no longer myself."
"No." Her voice was sharp now. "Don't ask me that."
"You're the only one who can," he said, reaching for her hand. He didn't take it—just hovered close. "You've always been the only one who can reach me."
Elira clenched her fist. "Don't say that."
"Why?" he whispered. "Because it's true? Or because it scares you?"
She finally looked up, and there it was again—that look. The one that stripped away the years, the walls, the armor. And she hated that he still looked at her like that.
Like she was his.
But her words remained unchanged.
"I am your servant, Your Royal Highness."
A flicker of pain passed over his face, but he nodded slowly.
"You're dismissed," he said quietly.
She hesitated—just for a breath—then turned and walked away.
And in the room behind her, lightning sparked across the map.
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