The ash always settled slowest in the Queen's Garden.
Caelin Mor ran her fingers along the scorched marble bench, her gloves blackened with soot. Charred roses crackled underfoot, their once-velvet petals now crumbling embers. The fire had been small, they said. Contained. Accidental.
But accidents didn't start in royal libraries. And they didn't leave coded symbols etched in blood beneath the floorboards.
She pulled the half-burned book tighter to her chest, heart thudding like a drum. Its pages were brittle, but one fragment survived:
"When love and fire meet—bind or break."
"You shouldn't be here," a voice said behind her.
Caelin turned, gaze narrowed. A tall man in worn armor leaned against the wrought-iron gate, arms crossed. He had the look of someone used to battle—and utterly bored with peace. His voice was deep. Commanding.
"And you are?"
"Aren Talren," he said. "Your new shadow, apparently."
"Bodyguard?"
"Babysitter. Though I was promised fewer garden fires."
Caelin raised her brow. "Then you were misinformed."
She turned back to the roses, already calculating how to lose him. But part of her already knew—this man wasn't going anywhere. Not yet. And certainly not before everything they both thought they knew was turned to ash.