Dawn light came through the windows.
Empress Eleanor stood at her desk with the sealed petition in her hands. The D'Lorien crest showed crimson against the wax. An express courier had delivered it in the middle of the night.
Under her thumb, the seal broke.
Forced marriage under false pretenses. Assassination conspiracy with House Vessant named directly. Attempted murder of the Flamebearer.
Eleanor paused at that last phrase.
Flamebearer.
She knew the word from history lessons. An ancient title. One that should not exist anymore.
Flamebearer. The archives called them extinct. Diluted through intermarriage. But if one survived...
She kept reading. The documentation was thorough. Dates, witnesses, financial records showing ward manipulation and territorial compromises all organized with legal precision. Everything laid out methodically in a way that suggested either excellent coaching or genuine competence.
She is not hysterical. Not emotional. This is calculated. Professional. Either she is extremely well-coached or genuinely skilled.
At the bottom of the final page, after all the documented evidence, a personal note was written in the same controlled hand.
Your Majesty,
The claims above are documented with evidence. There is additional information of a sensitive nature that I must present privately. It concerns bloodline heritage and matters of cosmic security that cannot be committed to writing.
I respectfully request a confidential audience with Your Majesty and Crown Prince Thalion.
Lady Seraphina D'Lorien
Eleanor read the petition again.
Cosmic security. She is claiming the stakes go beyond politics. Either she is delusional or telling a truth I am not prepared to hear.
House Vessant conspiracies.
Ward compromises.
And something involving bloodlines sensitive enough the woman would not put it in writing.
If even half of this is accurate, the political damage will be catastrophic. She read the petition again. If the undocumented claims are worse, this goes beyond noble house conflicts entirely. I need to see her myself. Read her. Understand what she is really claiming.
Eleanor rang the bell.
"Summon the Crown Prince. Immediately."
The steward left.
She wrote a second message herself. Brief orders for an unmarked escort: five riders, no banners, departure within the hour.
Sealed it. Sent it through separate channels.
An imperial courier arrived at the D'Lorien estate mid-morning. The message was brief. Lady D'Lorien was summoned to the capital for immediate imperial audience. An escort would arrive by late afternoon.
The agent there sent it immediately through coded channels.
FLAMEKEEP - NOON
Yona burst into the study with a coded message. "Imperial summons. Escort arrives at D'Lorien by late afternoon."
Seraphina's pulse kicked once. Eleanor's granting audience. "How long to reach D'Lorien?"
"Two hours if we ride hard. The escort gets there in four."
Barely enough time. Seraphina looked at the documents on her desk. Evidence. Testimony. Her mother's research. Everything prepared with careful organization.
Caelan appeared in the doorway. He must have heard Yona's voice. His eyes found hers immediately, reading the situation before she spoke.
"Imperial summons," she said. "I have to leave now."
His expression went carefully neutral. The kind of control that meant he was feeling too much to show it. "When?"
"Within the hour. Imperial escort is coming to D'Lorien."
Something shifted in his eyes. Relief mixed with concern. "Eleanor is granting audience. This is what we have been working toward."
"Or it is a trap." Seraphina stood. "I need to get to D'Lorien before the escort arrives."
"I will meet you at the palace," Caelan said. His voice was steady but his eyes were not. "You will not face this alone."
Yona cleared her throat. "I will prepare the horses." She left quickly, closing the door behind her.
The room went quiet.
Seraphina crossed to him.
"This is it. Everything we have been working toward."
"I know." His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I also know you are about to walk into imperial territory with only your evidence to protect you."
"I will be fine."
"You better be." His other hand slid to the small of her back and pulled her closer. "Because I am not done with you yet."
The air between them felt charged.
Electric.
Everything they had survived together, everything they had lost, everything they still wanted and could not say out loud yet.
"Caelan..."
He kissed her before she could finish the thought.
Not gentle. Not careful. Desperate and honest. His hands tightened on her waist; she grabbed his coat and pulled him closer, kissing him back with equal intensity because she did not know when she would see him again and the thought of walking into the palace without him made something in her chest hurt in a way she refused to examine too closely.
When they finally broke apart they were both breathing hard.
His forehead pressed to hers.
"Come back to me," he said quietly.
"Always."
She meant it.
"I will see you at the palace."
"The second you arrive." His thumb traced her lower lip. "The absolute second."
One more kiss.
Slower this time.
A promise.
Then she pulled away, grabbed her cloak, and walked out before she could change her mind.
"Get me there. Dorian rides with me. Siran goes ahead to check D'Lorien for surveillance. Liora stays here and tells me the second that imperial escort leaves the capital."
"Already moving." Yona never wasted time.
Within twenty minutes, Seraphina was on her horse. Dorian rode next to her. Siran had already left to secure the estate. The ride was hard, two hours compressed into ninety minutes through determination and Dorian's route planning.
They reached D'Lorien estate with just under an hour to spare.
Siran met them at the gates. "Perimeter secure. No surveillance detected. Imperial escort left capital two hours ago. Unmarked riders. No banners."
Discretion. Eleanor is being careful.
"Position yourself and Dorian at the perimeter when they arrive," Seraphina ordered. "I want to know who comes and when."
She had barely changed into travel clothes when Liora's runner arrived from Flamekeep. "Your Grace. The escort. It is not standard guards."
Seraphina's breath caught. "Who?"
"Crown Prince Thalion himself."
Eleanor sent Thalion. This is not procedure. This is assessment.
Late afternoon sun made long shadows across the estate courtyard when the riders came. No imperial banners. No formal guard formation. Just five men in unmarked uniforms.
Thalion got off his horse with military precision, four guards staying at the edges while he walked forward alone.
Dorian appeared from the shadows near the gate. His hand rested on his sword. Crown Prince arrives without warning. The Empress is either testing Lady Seraphina or protecting her. Maybe both.
The estate looked well-defended when Thalion looked around, stronger wards than most noble houses could afford, the defensive design going beyond decoration.
Someone here understands tactics. Military-grade positioning. This is not just old wealth. This is active preparation.
At the edges, his four guards held position. Protocol said he should bring full escort. Eleanor's orders had been clear though. Assess her directly.
Mother wants my read on her. Not the court's opinion. Mine.
Thalion walked to the entrance alone. The door opened before he knocked. A woman with steel-gray eyes stood there, too alert for household staff.
Operative. She is building something here. The question is what.
"Crown Prince Thalion. Lady Seraphina is expecting you."
She led him through hallways that smelled of warding oils and old parchment. Maps spread on tables. Messengers moving with purpose.
She is not hiding it. Wants me to see she is organized and prepared. Or she is so focused on survival she does not care about appearances anymore.
The study door opened.
Seraphina D'Lorien stood from her desk. She wore traveling clothes that were dark and practical, made for movement not court display. Her black hair was pulled back simply.
Her eyes caught his attention.
Dark crimson red.
Burning with controlled intensity.
Something felt wrong.
His magic reacted before his brain caught up, an unknown pull that made his blood run too hot and his pulse hammer in confusion. Not threat, not danger, something else entirely. Something his powers recognized but he did not understand, every instinct pulled toward her while his mind screamed warnings and he could not make sense of it.
What is this? No. Control it. This is assessment, not... whatever this is.
He forced it down through willpower alone.
The sensation stayed beneath his skin though.
Wild. Uncontrolled. Frightening in its intensity and the fact that he had no idea why.
His hands flexed once at his sides.
"Duchess Vessant." His voice came out colder than he meant, deliberate use of her married title to establish distance and control. "I am here on the Empress's orders. To escort you to the capital."
Her jaw tightened. A flash of irritation crossed those crimson eyes before she controlled it.
"Your Highness." She held his gaze with equal wariness. "I was not expecting the Crown Prince personally."
Duchess Vessant. The title sat wrong in her mouth, felt wrong even though technically it was still her legal name. She had signed the petition as Lady Seraphina D'Lorien. Filed for divorce under her father's house name. Reclaimed her bloodline identity in every legal document.
And he chose to call her by her husband's name anyway.
A test. Or a reminder that imperial authority did not recognize her claim until the divorce was finalized. Maybe both.
"Given what you are claiming, discretion matters. Crown Prince oversight ensures confidentiality."
Thalion watched her reaction carefully. The woman who had opened the door called her "Lady Seraphina." The operative at the gate had said "Lady D'Lorien." Even the runner who announced his arrival used her maiden house title.
Her entire household treats the divorce as already done. Acts as if the Vessant marriage never existed. Either extraordinary loyalty or she has them so convinced of her position they are willing to publicly acknowledge a legal status that does not yet exist.
Names carried weight in noble politics. She claimed one identity while the law still bound her to another.
Her jaw tightened slightly, whatever she felt about his deliberate choice of address she controlled it with visible effort.
Her thumb pressed against the edge of the document case she held.
"You have thirty minutes. We leave immediately."
Something changed in those crimson eyes. Not fear. Not submission. Calculation.
"Of course, Your Highness. I will gather the private evidence and my things."
She moved past him toward the door. Close enough he caught the scent of fire and parchment and something else he could not name. Close enough the unknown pull intensified until his magic surged under his skin, uncontrolled. Close enough every instinct screamed that she was the most dangerous woman he had ever met.
He had no idea why.
When she returned minutes later with a document case and traveling cloak, Dorian and two other operatives had positioned themselves near the entrance.
Ready to ride with her.
Protective formation already planned.
Thalion's eyes moved over them with cold assessment.
"Your people will follow in separate convoy." His voice cut through the courtyard with absolute authority. "Duchess Vessant rides with me. Alone."
Seraphina's pulse kicked.
He is isolating me. Testing me. Or protecting imperial interests by controlling what I can say to my team during travel.
Dorian's hand moved toward his sword.
"Your Highness, protocol requires..."
"Protocol requires Duchess Vessant's safe delivery to the Empress." Thalion's tone allowed no argument whatsoever. "I am Crown Prince. That is sufficient guarantee of safety. Your people may follow at distance to ensure perimeter security during travel."
His eyes locked with Seraphina's.
"Unless Duchess Vessant objects to imperial escort standards?"
The challenge hung between them and she knew what it meant. Refuse and insult the Crown Prince, accept and spend hours alone with a man whose magic clearly reacted to her presence with something she could not identify, something that felt almost dangerous in how strong it was.
He is forcing my hand. Proving I either trust imperial authority or I do not. If I refuse Eleanor will hear I rejected her son's protection.
Seraphina held his gaze.
"I have no objections to traveling under Crown Prince protection, Your Highness."
"Good."
Thalion pointed toward the unmarked carriage his guards had brought, imperial crest hidden, windows covered for privacy.
"We leave now."
Dorian's expression turned to stone.
Alone with the Crown Prince. In an enclosed carriage. For hours. This is either protection or a very sophisticated trap.
Seraphina caught his eyes for one brief second.
A silent message.
Follow. Stay close. If anything goes wrong, you intervene.
Then she walked toward the carriage where Crown Prince Thalion waited.
He stood beside the door and made no move to help her enter.
His hands stayed carefully at his sides, rigid, and she noticed the deliberate positioning. Protocol dictated he should offer assistance, any nobleman would extend a hand to a lady entering a carriage.
He did not.
If I touch her, it might get worse. Whatever this is.
Seraphina noticed. Her eyes flicked to his rigid posture, the deliberate distance he maintained. She climbed into the carriage unassisted and her movements stayed controlled and dignified despite the slight.
Thalion followed.
Settled onto the opposite bench.
As far from her as the enclosed space allowed.
The door closed behind them.
Soft.
Final.