The flicker of candlelight bounced off the stone walls, casting Ember's shadow long and thin across the worn floor of the palace kitchen. The clanging of pots and pans echoed around her as the other servants hurried about, preparing for yet another royal feast. She kept her head down, as she always did, moving with practiced precision to avoid drawing attention. In a palace filled with magic, she was the anomaly—a girl with no magic at all.
Or so she thought.
Ember tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, ignoring the soft buzz of magic that danced around her, settling over the place like an invisible veil. Everyone here could feel it. Magic was woven into the very fabric of Faeloria, yet she was the odd one out. The girl who couldn't conjure even the tiniest flame, the girl whose parents had died under suspicious circumstances, leaving her nothing but a servant's life.
"Ember!" The sharp voice of Mistress Olara cut through her thoughts like a blade. The older woman bustled toward her, her expression tight with disapproval. "Stop dawdling and fetch the prince's goblet. The banquet starts soon."
Ember nodded quickly, mumbling an apology as she wiped her hands on her apron. Mistress Olara's eyes lingered on her a moment longer, then she huffed and turned, barking orders at the other servants. The room buzzed back to life, but Ember could still feel the weight of the headmistress's gaze, like a boulder pressing down on her shoulders.
She crossed the room to the polished silver goblets, taking care to grab the one adorned with the royal crest—a snarling wolf's head encircled by fire. The Prince's emblem. It was a symbol that struck fear into the hearts of many, and though Ember had never met Prince Kaelen, she had heard enough stories to keep her far from his path. Ruthless, cold, and powerful, the rumors said. A warrior with magic dark enough to make even the bravest soul tremble.
She turned toward the grand hall, moving through the familiar corridors, careful to keep her head down. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in the crossfire of palace politics. But as she approached the door to the grand banquet room, she felt a strange sensation crawl up her spine. A tingle, like the faintest touch of static.
Magic.
She froze for a moment, glancing around. The hallway was empty, the soft glow of enchanted torches casting shadows against the marble walls. Ember shook her head, willing herself to move. You're just imagining it, she told herself. You can't feel magic, remember?
But that sensation lingered, prickling at the edges of her consciousness as she stepped into the grand hall.
The room was already buzzing with life—nobles in lavish gowns and robes seated at long tables, their laughter ringing through the air, mingling with the clinking of crystal glasses. At the head of the room, Prince Kaelen sat in his throne-like chair, his dark eyes scanning the room like a predator watching his prey. His presence was impossible to ignore. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell just past his collar, he exuded a dangerous, magnetic energy.
Ember kept her eyes down as she approached his table, placing the goblet on the table beside his plate. She didn't dare look directly at him. She had been warned. Never make eye contact with the prince. He doesn't tolerate insolence.
But as she stepped back to retreat into the shadows, she felt it again—the tingle of magic, stronger this time. Unbidden, her eyes darted to the prince, just for a second. And in that second, she saw something flicker in his gaze. Something dark. Something knowing.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly lowered her head, praying he hadn't noticed her moment of weakness. But it was too late.
"You."
The single word, spoken in a low, commanding voice, made her freeze in her tracks. She felt her heart slam against her ribs, her pulse quickening.
Slowly, she turned to face him. His gaze was locked on her now, sharp and unyielding. His dark eyes seemed to bore into her, like he could see straight through her flesh and bone, to the secrets she didn't even know she held.
"Come closer," he said, his voice low but commanding.
Ember hesitated. Every instinct told her to run, to get as far away from him as possible. But she couldn't disobey a direct order from the prince. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, her hands trembling at her sides.
Kaelen's eyes flicked over her, his expression unreadable. He reached for his goblet, but just before his hand touched it, something unexpected happened.
The goblet sparked.
A thin, almost imperceptible spark of energy arced between his fingers and the metal, making Ember jump. Kaelen's eyes narrowed, and Ember felt the air around them grow thick with tension.
"What… was that?" His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a weight that made her knees weak.
"I-I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely audible.
He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving hers, and for the first time, Ember saw something behind the cold, ruthless mask he wore. Curiosity. And maybe something darker, something dangerous.
"You can feel it, can't you?" he murmured.
Ember shook her head, panic rising in her chest. "I don't— I can't—"
But she could. She had felt it. The magic. The same magic she wasn't supposed to possess.
The air around them crackled again, just for a moment, and Kaelen's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. A dangerous smile.
"I knew it," he whispered.
Ember's heart pounded in her chest. She had no idea what he had just seen or sensed, but one thing was certain.
She was no longer invisible.