Kael POV
I watch my father's tower burn and feel nothing.
That's wrong. I should feel something. Fear. Grief. Panic. But there's only cold calculation running through my head: How many men to fight the fire? Can we save him? Do we even have time?
"Your Highness!" Commander Rhys appears beside me, his face covered in ash. "The stairs collapsed. We can't reach the King."
"Then build a rope ladder. Use the siege equipment if you have to." My voice sounds distant even to my own ears. "Get him out."
"We're trying, but—"
"Try harder." I turn away from the burning tower and look back toward the execution grounds where I left her. Aria. The woman who shouldn't exist but does. The woman who just told me my stepsister-in-law planned to poison me on my wedding night.
My horse stamps nervously beneath me. Smart animal. It knows something is very wrong tonight.
"Rhys, who reported the fire?"
"A kitchen boy, Your Highness. Said he saw flames from—"
"Find that boy. Now. And seal the castle gates. No one leaves until I give permission." My mind races through the possibilities. The timing is too perfect. Lyanna tries to burn Aria alive, and moments later my father's tower explodes? That's not coincidence. That's coordination.
"You think it's connected?" Rhys catches on immediately. He's been my right hand since we were both fifteen and covered in our first battle scars. He knows how I think.
"I know it's connected. Lyanna had a list of twenty-three people to kill. We only caught her because Aria survived long enough to expose her." I grip my reins so hard my burned hands scream in protest. "Question: How many people on that list are already dead?"
Rhys goes pale. "Gods above."
"Exactly." I wheel my horse toward the castle. "Double the guard on my father's chambers—if we get him out alive, someone might try to finish the job. And send men back for Aria. She's injured and vulnerable."
"Already done, Your Highness. I sent Marcus with three men to escort her to the palace healers."
Good. That's good. She'll be safe with Marcus. I trained him myself.
So why do I still feel like something terrible is about to happen?
The castle is chaos when I arrive. Servants run everywhere with buckets of water. Guards shout orders that no one follows. Smoke pours from the west wing like a demon's breath. And somewhere in that inferno is my father—the man who broke after my mother died, who left me to rule a kingdom at sixteen, who never once asked if I was scared or tired or drowning under the weight of his crown.
I should want him dead. It would make everything simpler.
But he's still my father. And I won't let Lyanna's conspiracy take him from me.
"Your Highness!" A guard runs toward me, his face desperate. "We got a rope to the King's window but he won't take it! He's just standing there, staring at the flames!"
Of course he is. My father hasn't been right in the head since Mother died. Sometimes he forgets where he is. Who he is. On bad days, he thinks my mother is still alive and gets angry when she doesn't appear for dinner.
"I'll get him." I dismount and head for the burning tower.
"Your Highness, you can't! The smoke alone will—"
"Then I'll hold my breath." I grab the rope they've rigged to the window three stories up. "If I'm not out in five minutes, assume I'm dead and proceed with succession protocols."
"But—"
"That's an order, Commander."
I climb. Hand over hand, ignoring the blisters that burst open on my palms. Ignoring the heat radiating from the stone walls. Ignoring the voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Aria saying, "This is the stupidest tactical decision I've ever seen."
She's right. It is stupid. A kingdom can't afford to lose both its king and crown prince in one night. But I'm already moving, already climbing, because stopping means thinking and thinking means feeling and I can't afford feelings right now.
I reach the window and pull myself through. The room is full of smoke. I can barely see. Can barely breathe.
"Father!" I shout. "Where are you?"
"Elena?" A voice calls from the darkness. My father's voice, but younger somehow. Hopeful. "Elena, is that you? I've been waiting for you to come back."
Elena. My mother's name.
I find him standing in the center of the room, surrounded by flames, smiling like he's at a garden party. He's not trying to escape. He's not even afraid. He's just... waiting.
For a dead woman.
Something cracks in my chest. Just a little. Just enough to hurt.
"Father, we need to leave. Now." I grab his arm but he pulls away.
"No, no. Elena said she'd meet me here. I can't leave before she arrives. She'll be upset." He frowns at me like I'm the one being unreasonable. "You look like her, you know. Around the eyes. Are you one of her relatives?"
"I'm your son. I'm Kael."
"Kael?" He tilts his head, confused. "But Kael is just a boy. Eight years old. You're much too old to be Kael."
The floor groans beneath us. The ceiling drops burning embers. We have maybe thirty seconds before this whole room collapses.
"Father, please—"
"I'm not leaving without Elena!"
So I do what I have to do. I punch him. One quick strike to the jaw, just hard enough to knock him unconscious. He crumples and I catch him, hauling his dead weight over my shoulder.
The climb down is nightmare fuel. My father's weight makes the rope swing dangerously. My hands are slippery with blood from my burst blisters. Smoke fills my lungs until I'm coughing so hard I can barely hold on.
But I make it. We make it.
Guards rush forward to take my father as I collapse on the ground, gasping for air that doesn't taste like death.
"Get him to the healers," I rasp. "And someone tell me what started that fire."
"Already investigating, Your Highness." Rhys appears with a scroll in his hands. His expression makes my blood run cold. "But you need to see this. We found it in Lady Lyanna's chambers."
I take the scroll. It's a detailed map of the castle. Every room marked with notes in Lyanna's handwriting. Guard rotations. Weak points in the walls. Secret passages I didn't even know existed.
And there, marked with a red X and the word "FIRST," is my father's tower.
"She was planning to burn down the entire castle," Rhys says quietly. "Starting with the King, moving to the archives, then the armory. She had barrels of oil placed in key locations weeks ago."
My vision goes dark at the edges. "How many locations?"
"Seven that we've found so far."
"Evacuate the palace. Everyone out. Now." I stand, ignoring my screaming muscles. "And send riders to every lord whose name appeared on Lyanna's list. They need to know they're targets."
"Already done, Your Highness."
"Good. Now tell me why Marcus hasn't returned with Aria yet. He should have been back ten minutes ago."
Rhys's face goes white. "I'll find out."
But I'm already moving, already running back toward the execution grounds because suddenly I know—I KNOW—something is wrong.
I find Marcus and his three men on the road. All four of them unconscious, tied to trees. Alive but drugged.
And Aria is gone.
There's a note pinned to Marcus's chest. I rip it free, my hands shaking so badly I can barely read the words:
*"You wanted proof she's a witch? Come to the Old Cathedral at midnight. Come alone, or we burn her alive—for real this time. And Prince Kael? Bring your sword. You're going to need it.
—A Friend"*
I crumple the note in my fist. Check the position of the moon. It's already quarter past eleven.
I have forty-five minutes to get to the Old Cathedral. Alone. Against enemies I can't identify, for a woman I barely know.
The smart tactical decision is to bring an army. Surround the cathedral. Overwhelm whoever took her.
But they said come alone. And I believe them when they say they'll kill her if I don't.
So I mount my horse and ride into the darkness, toward a trap I know is waiting.
Because somewhere between watching her face death with physics equations and seeing her wrap my cloak around her burned body, this impossible woman stopped being just a useful tool.
She became something I can't afford to lose.
And that terrifies me more than any army ever could.