The journey back to Velstrae stretched across three days of silence, arguments, and maddening tension.
Liora rode with her wrists bound, but it wasn't the chains that gnawed at her. It was the man riding beside her. Riven, always a few paces ahead, eyes fixed on the horizon, jaw locked like it had something to prove. She hated him. She did.
So why did she keep watching him when he wasn't looking?
The Flame Hounds marched in silence around them, but one—Captain Veyne—kept glancing sideways at Riven when he thought no one noticed. He had seen something during the capture. A hesitation. A pause that didn't belong in the Queen's weapon. Veyne made a note of it, but said nothing. Yet.
The road wound through scorched pine, past the cracked ruins of once-proud fortresses. Liora stared at the distant red peaks as the capital drew closer, dread thickening in her throat. She wasn't afraid of death. Not really. But she was afraid of dying without doing something that mattered.
Saving Kael—that mattered.
If she could free him before the Queen executed her, it would be worth it.
She gritted her teeth, flames licking under her skin like warning shots. Her magic stirred in pulses, but she couldn't hold it for long. The fire drained her life every time she called on it. Her veins throbbed like they'd been lined with coal.
If she burned too long, she would burn herself alive.
At night, the tension between her and Riven pressed like heat between stones.
"Why do you keep looking at me like I'm going to run?" she snapped once as they sat near the fire.
"Because you think about it every hour."
She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. I'd rather sprint barefoot into lava than look at your face one more second."
He didn't even blink. "Likewise."
But his fingers flexed once, like he'd almost reached for her.
On the final day, the black towers of Velstrae rose through the haze, jagged and cold despite their ember-streaked design. Liora's stomach twisted. The last time she'd seen them, she'd been a servant girl scrubbing floors. Now she was fire-wielding cargo, chained and unbroken.
She still didn't know if she'd walk out alive.
She kept her chin high as they passed through the iron gates. People gathered along the roads—flame nobles, palace guards, curious citizens. Whispers hissed like embers.
"That's her."
"Null-born."
"Ashborn."
Riven dismounted first and moved to her side. He didn't touch her, just stood close enough to shadow her.
She turned to him, low enough so only he could hear. "Whatever happens in there, just give me one chance to reach Kael."
For the first time in hours, his eyes met hers. Something flickered.
"I'll handle it."
The Queen's throne room was as Liora remembered—opulent, overwhelming, and sweltering. Golden flames danced in the chandelier overhead, unnaturally still, like they obeyed only one will.
The Queen herself lounged on her ember-carved throne, draped in living fire, eyes gleaming like sunlit blood.
Her gaze landed on Liora. "So. This is the girl who scorched my riders and cracked the earth."
Liora said nothing. If she was going to burn, she'd do it silent and proud.
Riven stepped forward, flanked by the Flame Hounds.
"She came willingly."
The Queen raised a brow. "Did she?"
"She surrendered to me," Riven replied. "Which means she's smart. That makes her useful."
The Queen rose, her gown trailing fire. "Useful how, exactly? Should I cage her? Burn her? Or crown her a martyr for the people who already whisper her name like prophecy?"
Riven's voice was cool. Calculated. "You don't need a symbol to destroy. You need a weapon. She can be that. If she's trained. Bound. Controlled."
Liora's heart thudded. What the hell was he doing?
The Queen stepped down. "And you think you can train her?"
"I know I can," Riven said.
She turned to Liora. "What do you think, Ashborn? Would you be a tool of the very crown that tried to crush you?"
Liora met her eyes. "I'd rather be a torch than a puppet."
The Queen laughed. "Oh, I do like her." She turned back to Riven. "And how do you propose we leash this wildfire?"
Riven stood tall. "Bind her to me. Blood and flame. No one else has the strength—or the will—to keep her from turning."
Liora's breath caught. What?
The Queen considered it, then smiled. "Very well. But fail me, Riven, and you'll both burn."
She snapped her fingers. Two guards stepped forward, leading Brisa and Kael, newly washed and freed of shackles.
Liora's knees nearly buckled.
"Consider it goodwill," the Queen said, voice syrupy with power. "Your friends are no longer exiled. Let them see what loyalty looks like. What obedience earns."
Liora ran to them. Hugged Brisa first, then Kael—his arms weak, but eyes bright with relief.
Before she could ask how, Kael muttered, "Riven. He made her promise."
A fire lit in her chest that had nothing to do with magic.
She turned, staring at the man who had just sold her soul to save her friends.
Riven met her gaze with that same infuriating calm.
And behind the throne, unseen by all but the Queen, the flame-mirror pulsed.
A Seer whispered into the flames.
"She trusts him now."
The Queen smiled.
"Good."