The camp was quiet when they returned, quieter than usual.
The scouts had been shaken. The Flame King's riders had drawn too close this time—closer than they ever had. Kael's command had saved them, but not without cost. One of the rebel lookouts, a boy named Fen, didn't make it back.
Ember stood at the edge of the fire circle, watching the flames as they consumed the boy's token cloak. It was custom. Fire returned all things to ash—and ash, to memory.
Kael stood across from her, his face bathed in flickering light, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
She didn't know what to say to him. Not yet.
Ashen stepped beside her, whispering, "He blames himself."
"I know."
"He shouldn't. He saw the trap before it fell. Without him—"
"We'd all be dead."
Ashen gave a solemn nod and stepped away, leaving Ember alone with the fire and her thoughts.
Later, she found Kael by the stream that cut through the western edge of camp. He knelt by the water, shirtless, washing the blood and soot from his hands. Moonlight danced on his shoulders, tracing silver over scarred skin.
Ember approached slowly. "You fought well."
He didn't look up. "Too slow."
"You can't blame yourself for every loss."
Kael exhaled hard. "I brought them there. I should've seen the second line of scouts. They were waiting, Ember. As if they knew."
Ember's stomach twisted. "You think someone leaked our position?"
"I don't know. But it felt… wrong. Too precise."
She dropped beside him, dipping her fingers into the cold stream. "Then we stay alert. We stay together."
He looked at her now, his gaze like gravity. "You trust me?"
"With my life."
He reached up and tucked a damp strand of her hair behind her ear. "That's dangerous."
"So am I."
They were quiet for a moment, the tension between them pulsing like a second heartbeat.
"Kael," she said softly, "what happened to you before the rebellion? You said you've seen the Flame King's traps before."
He hesitated.
Then, voice low, "I wasn't always a rebel."
She blinked. "What does that mean?"
"I was… trained by the royal battlemages," he said slowly. "Recruited when I was thirteen. I served the Flame Court."
Ember's breath caught.
"For how long?"
"Until I realized who I was fighting for."
He finally met her gaze again. "I know the King's tactics because I lived under them. I know how his generals think because I followed their orders. And I know how he breaks people… because he tried to break me."
The words dropped between them like stones in water. Heavy. True.
"I had no idea," Ember whispered.
"You weren't supposed to. I wanted to leave that part of me buried. But if you're going to trust me—really trust me—you deserve to know who I used to be."
She didn't speak. She just moved closer and took his hand, fingers lacing with his.
"You're not that person anymore," she said. "You're with us now. With me."
He looked down at their joined hands. "You still want this?"
"I want what we have," she said. "Even if it burns."
He pulled her into his arms, their foreheads touching. "Then let it burn."
Their kiss this time was deeper. Not rushed or stolen, but full of the grief, the love, the confession. Ember could taste salt and ash on his lips. Could feel the pain in his grip.
They didn't go back to the tent.
They stayed beneath the moonlight, wrapped in silence, skin to skin, fire to fire.
No promises. No future.
Just now.
Just them.
Somewhere in the mountains of Arx Ignis…
The Flame King stood before the Mirror of Smoke, watching the flickering images of Ember and Kael.
He didn't speak. His hand clenched around the scorched piece of parchment in his palm—an old recruitment scroll bearing Kael's name and flame crest.
"So, you've chosen her over your crown," the king murmured.
"Pity."
He threw the parchment into the fire and watched it curl and vanish.
Then he turned to the shadows behind him.
"Send word to General Solen. Tell him the traitor Kael has finally made his move."