The sun had barely touched the horizon when the obsidian carriage rolled through the palace gates.
From the eastern wing, the courtyard buzzed not with gossip about Elara, for once, but about silver-clad knights, the Eldorian crest, and a prince wrapped in mystery.
The news had already made the rounds: a letter from King Harran of Eldoria had arrived days ago. A message dressed as diplomacy but laced with warning. The Crown Prince was coming.
Near the training pavilion, Elara stood with the fire beast stretched beside her like a shadow. It wasn't chained, but no one dared come close. The trial's memory still clung to the stone like smoke, burned behind every passing glance.
She crouched and let her fingers trail through the creature's flame-tipped mane.
"They're moving fast," said M, his voice floating out from behind a pillar. "Kings don't offer alliances unless they want something back."
Elara didn't turn. "Then let them come. I'm not the one playing games."
M stepped into view, gaze sharp. "Maybe not. But you're still the piece everyone wants to move."
She met his eyes. "Then I won't be a pawn."
Inside the palace, Isla paced her chambers, the hem of her gown brushing the marble floor with each turn. The Empress sat at the vanity, a jeweled pin in hand not to wear, but to think.
"He'll be here by sundown," she said calmly.
"And what if he asks for her?" Isla snapped. "What if he doesn't even see me?"
The Empress turned slowly. "Then we make him see."
Isla's mouth curled. "You want me to seduce him?"
"I want you to win him. That's not the same."
"And if he doesn't want to be won?"
The Empress didn't flinch."Then you make sure he regrets it."
The procession arrived at twilight.
Moonlight glazed the obsidian carriage as its doors opened at the palace steps.The Crown Prince stepped out.
Young. Clean-shaven. Eyes like winter storms.Every move measured, controlled.
Isla descended the stairs with her most practiced smile.
But his gaze shifted.
Past her.
To the girl who hadn't moved.
Elara.
She stood beside the fire beast, hair unbound in the wind, her cloak dark and still.
And the Prince smiled.
Not at Isla.Not at the court.
At her.
The servant girl they'd tried to erase.
Now a symbol.Now the storm everyone watched.
Back in the solar, King Theron poured a glass of black wine, staring into the fire. The letter from Eldoria lay open beside him.
"A royal match," he murmured. "They're moving faster than expected."
The Empress leaned against the mantel."And Isla will play her part."
The King took a sip, then set the glass down with a soft clink.
"She always does. But it's not Isla they want. It's the girl with fire in her blood."
A pause.
"And if she chooses to burn the hand that offers her a crown?"
The Empress looked out the window, her voice low."Then we'd better make sure the flame doesn't take us all with it."