The molten gold seal hissed when Kaedan broke it.
Inside, the parchment crackled with power — Triarch magic, dangerous and ancient. Ariaxa felt the pulse of it in her bones even before she read the words.
PARLEY.
DAWN.
OUTSIDE THE WALLS.
ALONE.
THE SUNBORN OR WAR WILL CONSUME VHARON.
Ariaxa’s pulse hammered.
Kaedan’s did not.
His stayed deadly, terrifyingly still.
Then—
He exploded.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”
His voice shook the walls.
The torches flared.
A vase shattered from the sheer force of his rage.
Ariaxa tried to speak. “Kaedan—”
“You will not go. You will not step one foot beyond these walls. They want to use you, kill you, break the bond—”
“If I don’t go,” she cut in sharply, “thousands will die.”
Kaedan spun toward her, eyes blazing black-red.
“They will die anyway if something happens to you!”
“They won’t touch me,” she lied.
“They are TRIARCHS,” he snarled. “Rhaelle wants your head. Vaelen wants your power. Brakus wants your blood. They will use you as a bargaining chip, a weapon, a sacrifice—”
“Kaedan.”
She stepped closer.
“They are afraid. I can end this war before it destroys Vharon.”
“End it,” he hissed, “by walking into their hands?”
“If it saves your people,” she said softly, “yes.”
His jaw flexed.
“This is not Elyndor,” he growled. “I am not your captor. You are not a pawn. You are not a bargaining chip to be thrown into their teeth.”
“Then trust me.”
Kaedan froze.
That word—
Trust.
The most dangerous thing anyone had ever asked of him.
His breath trembled.
His hands curled into fists.
Fear flickered through his eyes — raw, unhidden.
Hours passed.
They argued until their voices were hoarse, until the torches burned low, until even Riven retreated from the tension.
Kaedan’s fury was not anger.
It was terror.
Terror of losing her.
Terror of failing her.
Terror of watching her walk into the same fate that nearly ended him.
Finally, as moonlight crept in through the balcony doors, Ariaxa lifted her hand and cupped his cheek.
The moment her fingers touched him —
everything inside Kaedan collapsed.
His forehead fell against hers.
His breath shuddered.
His grip tightened on her wrist like she was the only thing holding him together.
“Ariaxa,” he whispered, voice stripped bare, “if they hurt you—if they touch you—if you don’t come back—”
“I will come back.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I’ll try.”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
She felt him shaking.
Then—
With a broken exhale, he nodded.
“Fine,” he rasped. “Fine. But on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Riven and a hidden battalion will be close enough to intervene.”
Ariaxa opened her mouth to protest, but Kaedan growled,
“It is the only way I agree.”
She swallowed.
“Then… fine.”
He didn’t look relieved.
He looked destroyed.
Because he knew —
as she did —
that the Triarchs would never honor a clean parley.
And she might not return.
Hours later, the palace slept uneasily.
Ariaxa lay awake, the bond with Kaedan humming faintly through her chest — warm, protective, aching. She touched her palm where the life-bond sigil glowed beneath her skin.
The sky outside her window was still pitch-black.
She had only minutes before she needed to prepare.
A soft click broke the silence.
Her breath caught.
The door to her chamber had opened.
A hooded figure slipped inside with the silence of a ghost.
Ariaxa shot to her feet.
Her sun magic flared — but the figure raised empty hands.
“Do not scream.”
Their voice was low.
Urgent.
Trembling.
Ariaxa narrowed her eyes. “Who are you—?”
The figure stepped closer, lowering their hood.
Ariaxa froze.
It was one of the palace spies — one who served both Kaedan and the court, a shadow-walker who rarely spoke and never panicked.
But their face was pale as bone.
“Princess,” they whispered shakily, “you cannot go.”
Ariaxa stiffened. “If I don’t, the city—”
“They don’t want peace.”
The spy’s whisper cracked.
“They don’t want a treaty.”
They took another trembling step.
“They want you.”
Ariaxa swallowed. “I know.”
The spy shook their head desperately.
“No. You don’t.”
They leaned in, eyes wild with fear.
“If you go to them…”
Their breath hitched.
“You won’t return.”