Page 59 of King of Flames and Shadows

But even now, all these years later, the memory of that night still haunts me. The sight of my family's broken bodies, the sound of Elara's final, gurgling breath, the taste of blood and ashes in my mouth.

I was powerless then. But I am no longer powerless.

The flash of memory ignites something feral in me, a reminder of why I’ve fought so fiercely for Millrath, for every inch of it. I claimed this throne with my own hands, wrested it from those who thought they could deny me my birthright. I alone reclaimed our name, reforged our legacy.

And now, Calliope. Beautiful, dangerous Calliope, the flame that illuminates the darkest corners of this place, the one who’s come to haunt my waking thoughts, who’s come to mean … far more than I could ever admit.

I can’t afford weakness. Not now.

If I killed her now—if I myself destroyed her, rid this place of her—could I protect my family’s legacy from again coming to ruin?

The thought almost makes me sick.

My heart pounds as I storm through the castle, each hallway a blur. Stone faces from my ancestors look down at me with empty eyes as I pass, accusing. They stand immortalized in the statues that line the corridor, watching as I walk the same path they did, as if daring me to falter. Each set of eyes calls tome with the same silent demand: uphold what they died for, or lose everything.

My sister is watching me—my mother is watching. My father is watching. I feel his imperious stare even now. They urge me to maintain my power, to protect their legacies, to keep close to my chest what had cruelly been stolen from them. Their voices are so very loud, almost drowning out the fierce drumming of my pulse in my ears.

I turn a corner sharply, my gaze hardening as I near Calliope’s and my chambers. I know what I should do, what is necessary to protect my throne. I must end this; I must banish her to the wilderness, let her face the fate of those who came before her, who dared threaten what is mine. It’s what they all want, what they expect.

Yet as I draw nearer to her door, the truth of it claws at me, the truth of what I cannot bear to do.

I am too weak to kill her. I probably always was. From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I could not have killed her if I tried.

Her voice comes to me then, a whisper in my mind.What am I to you?The question she’s never asked, but always lingers between us.

I push open the door with more force than necessary, and there she is, seated near the window, bathed in the first light of dawn. She looks up at me, surprise flickering in her gaze, and my resolve wavers, then cracks, an edifice crumbling at its foundations.

She rises slowly, her gaze wary, as if sensing the storm within me. “Arvoren—”

“Enough,” I cut her off, my voice harsher than I intend. I can’t look at her, not directly. She is a spark, and I am dangerously close to igniting. “The houses have formed an alliance. An army in the North, under my brother’s command. They’re coming for us.”

She blinks, her expression guarded, yet her eyes—damn those eyes—hold an unerring softness that makes something twist and shatter within me. She isn’t surprised. I knew she wouldn’t be. Calliope seems to notice every small thing.

“What will you do?” she asks, her voice careful, as if sensing that one wrong move could undo me.

The question grates against my pride. I feel the anger rising again, directed at the world, at the houses, at her—at myself for the weakness that keeps me frozen, for the need that makes me hesitate.

“What I should do,” I answer, though the words feel hollow. My fists clench, the tension radiating up my arms, threatening to consume me. “What I must. You’ve seen what they think of you, what they would have of you. They’ve come for me because of you, Calliope. Do you understand what that means?”

She doesn’t flinch, but I see the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the brief, fragile slip of her mask. “And do you really believe it’s so simple? That I wanted any of this?”

I step closer. My anger is an open wound inside me, bleeding, pulsing, making itself known. My fingers brush her cheek, and she doesn’t pull away, though her breath catches. “Do you realize what it would cost me to keep you here? What I would give—what I would destroy—to protect this kingdom?”

She leans into my touch, just barely, and it’s enough to break something in me. I pull her close, unable to resist, and shepresses her forehead to my chest, her breath warm against my skin. The tension melts, leaving only a brittle fragility I cannot ignore.

“Arvoren,” she whispers, her voice threading through the silence, her hands fisting in my shirt. “I know you believe you have to choose, but this—us—it doesn’t have to end in ruin. I choose another way. And I value my choice here,ourchoice, not to be what we were destined to be, not to hurt one another. You should do the same.”

Her words sink in, burrowing deep, and I am left without an answer. I can feel the weight of my family’s legacy pressing down on me, demanding I make a choice, that I either banish her or lose everything I’ve fought for.

But here, at this moment, I can’t bring myself to let her go. I pull her closer, our lips brushing. For a heartbeat, the rest of the world fades away.

In that silence, I allow myself the luxury of hope, if only for a moment. Then, the second passes, and it is gone, and I am back in the castle they seek to destroy, holding all the mistakes I have made, waiting for the ax to fall.

Chapter 28 - Calliope

Days pass. Beasts converge upon our city, though no more manage to penetrate the castle’s walls. The morning is chilly, and in its quiet shadows, I find myself alone by the window near the library, which I have not been able to re-enter since my encounter with the monster there, watching a thick fog drape itself over Millrath, folding the city into its embrace. I wrap my arms around myself, as if the motion might anchor me against the surge of uncertainty that has crept up inside. War is coming. The armies of the United Houses are gathering, and Arvoren … he won’t spare them, not a soul. His eyes, when he told me, held a determination that chilled me, a resolve that seemed to steel him to sacrifice everything—he would even damn himself. I know this to be true.

Part of me, the logical part, should welcome this news. It could be my salvation. Amid the chaos, with battle on the horizon and Arvoren’s attention divided, my escape should be within reach. It’s the chance I’ve been waiting for, and yet … why, then, does the thought settle in my stomach like a stone?

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