I swallowed, fighting the chill that crept up despite the heat in the room.
He was too close now. Close enough that I could feel the warmth coming from his skin, smell the faint trace of smoke and spice that clung to him.
I mumbled, "You stare at me like you want to know me."
His gaze flickered to my lips. "Maybe I want to know why you're not afraid."
"Maybe I am," I said softly. "Maybe I just don't want to show it."
Something in him broke then not fully, but enough for the walls to crack. His hand rose slowly, almost without his consent, fingers brushing my jaw. The touch was light, too careful, as if he feared I'd break.
But I didn't.
I leaned into it.
His thumb stayed on my skin. The heat burned, but not terribly it was alive, pulling me closer, connecting me to something neither of us could name.
"Don't," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you see me."
"I do see you," I said. "You're lonely. You're angry. You're scared of something you can't control."
He froze. For a long, heavy beating, neither of us moved.
Then he laughed low, bitter, broken. "You think I'm afraid? I've lived ages, Evelyn. Fear is a luxury I burned away long ago."
"Then why are your hands shaking?"
He looked down. His fingers shook slightly, a red glow pulsing beneath his skin. He clenched them into fists. "Because you don't know what I am."
"Then tell me," I said angrily. "Show me."
He stared at me for what felt like forever, the silence between us thick and electric. Then, slowly, he opened his hand.
Flame.
Bright, wild, uncontrolled bursting to life in his hand.
I gasped, stepping back, but he caught my wrist. The fire danced between us, mirrored in both our eyes.
"This," he said, his voice low and shaky, "is what you asked for."
The light bathed the room in a fierce glow. Shadows fled to the corners. The mark over my heart began to pulse in time with the flame.
"Why does it respond to me?" I whispered.
He paused, then said softly, "Because part of my power lives in you now. The ritual bound it. Bound us."
"What happens if it grows stronger?"
His grip tightened. "It consumes."
"Then why give it to me?"
"I didn't choose this!" His voice rose, full of sudden, raw emotion. "Do you think I wanted you marked? Do you think I wanted to drag you into this curse?"
My throat ached. "Then what do you want, Kael?"
He stared at me, breathing hard. "I want peace. I want quiet. I want one night without hearing her scream in my head."
"Her?"
He went still. His eyes darkened with something sharp and eerie. "The woman you hear," he said finally. "She wasn't supposed to exist anymore."
I stepped closer. "Who was she?"
He closed his eyes. "My wife."
The words fell like a blade.
For a moment, the world seemed to still.
"She looked like me," I whispered.
He nodded. "She was you."
"What?"
"Her name was Elara," he said, voice low and shaking. "She was my first bride, the first woman who bore the mark of fire. She misled me… and the curse began. Every century, it finds a new host. A woman who looks like her. A woman the fire chooses."
I felt my breath catch. "You think I'm her reborn?"
"I don't think so." His voice broke. "I know."
I stepped back, shaking my head. "That's impossible."
"Nothing about me is possible," he said coldly.
"But if she betrayed you, why am I here? Why bind me to you again?"
"Because the ritual doesn't ask for my consent. It picks. It always chooses."
The book fell from my hands, falling open on the floor. The runes flared again, brighter than before. One line glowed with burning light: The link of flame remembers its first death.
I looked up sharply. "Kael… what does that mean?"
He followed my look, and for the first time, I saw fear flash in his eyes.
Before he could answer, the air rippled. The flame in his hand sputtered out. The glow on my chest turned red, hot enough to make me cry out.
He caught me before I fell. His hand pressed over my heart, and his deep, powerful voice whispered old words I didn't understand.
The burning lessened, then faded. I gasped for breath, gripping his arm.
"What's happening to me?" I spoke softly.
He looked at me with something close to sadness. "The bond is waking."
He helped me sit, his touch softer now, but the space in his eyes returned to a man hiding behind his scars.
"Every time you touch the fire," he said quietly, "it remembers what she did. What you did. And it punishes you both."
"I'm not her," I said. "I'm not the woman who hurt you."
He stared at me for a long time. "No," he said at last. "But you might become her if you stay."
I shook my head. "You can't scare me away, Kael. I didn't come here to be your enemy."
"Then what are you?"
His question struck deeper than it should have. I looked away. "Maybe I'm the one who breaks the curse."
"Or maybe you're the one who finishes it."
The silence stretched between us again, sharp and smothering.
Then, suddenly, the runes on the wall behind him flared. The same woman's voice echoed in the air soft, eerie, familiar.
"Don't trust him, Evelyn. The fire lies."
I went cold. The sound was too real, too near. Kael's face paled.
"Did you hear that?" I spoke softly.
He didn't answer. His eyes fixed on something behind me.
I turned.
The mirror.
My mirror was happy but I wasn't.
And as I watched, my reflection muttered back, her voice filled with fire "The curse doesn't want to end. It wants to begin again."
I didn't go to him because I was brave. I went because I couldn't stand being overlooked.
Three days.
He hadn't spoken to me for three days.
Every meal was sent to my room. Every question I asked was met with silence through locked doors. Kael had disappeared into the deeper parts of the castle, leaving only the echo of his anger behind.
But the quiet was worse than the fire. It burned slower.
I couldn't take it anymore.
When I found the door to his room, I didn't knock. I pushed it open.
He stood near the far wall, naked, hands covered in bandages that were blackened and frayed. The air shimmered slightly around him, the faint trace of smoke and something else, something wild.
His back tensed when he heard me. "Leave."
"No."
His voice hardened. "Evelyn, I said leave."
"I'm not one of your servants," I said, stepping closer. "You don't get to shut me out like this."
He turned. The gold in his eyes was dim, but his face gods, it was colder than ever. "You don't understand what happens when I lose control."
"Then help me understand," I snapped. "Because hiding from me isn't protecting me. It's killing me."