Silent Fires

Kaelen strode away from the grand hall, his boots echoing against the polished stone. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the suffocating heat of silk-clad nobles and clinking goblets.

Stars glittered above him, the kind of vast and unchanging sky that had always calmed him after a battle. But this time, the quiet didn't soothe his mind.

His thoughts churned—memories of the night's events looping like an unsolvable puzzle. He remembered the way Solenara had smiled during their brief escape, how it had been genuine, unburdened. Compared to the composed mask she wore in the grand hall, it had been like gazing into sunlight after being lost in shadow.

And then there was the dance. Watching her with the foreign prince had been almost unbearable. Not for reasons of jealousy, Kaelen assured himself—he had no claim on her—but because it was a stark reminder of the world that separated them.

"Foolish," he muttered under his breath, brushing his hand through his hair.

His place was on the battlefield, not at glittering galas where silver-tongued men exchanged shallow promises. Yet, as much as he wanted to dismiss his thoughts of Solenara, she lingered in his mind like a stubborn spark refusing to extinguish.

He made his way toward the stables, where his mount awaited. He found himself tracing the woodwork of the stable doors, almost unwilling to leave just yet.

---

Inside the palace, Solenara took careful sips of the sweet wine presented to her, feeling utterly drained. Halvryn had cornered her once again, the prince's charm now feeling more like a calculated trap. He spoke at length of his ambitions—some noble, some less so—his words circling her as if each sentence was tightening a snare.

She nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments, but her attention kept drifting elsewhere. The air of the room felt heavier now, and though she wished desperately to breathe the night's crispness again, propriety demanded she stay.

When she finally managed to slip away, she chose the quieter eastern gardens, knowing most nobles preferred the terrace. The starlight was softer here, accompanied only by the sound of the fountains and the faint rustling of nocturnal creatures.

Solenara sank onto the stone bench nearest the roses. She touched the armrest, feeling the cool marble beneath her fingertips, but her mind replayed Kaelen's simple yet profound gestures—the humble flower crown, his easy laugh.

Her lips curved into a small smile as she took out the Crown, fiddling with it before her responsibilities pressed heavy on her again.

---

Kaelen, restless in the stables, heard faint laughter spilling from the palace as nobles began to retreat for the night. While he could have saddled his horse and left quietly, he felt a tug to stay, an inexplicable force grounding him.

"Can't seem to leave, can you?"

The voice startled him. He turned to see his lieutenant, Aldrin, leaning against a nearby post. Older and scarred, Aldrin had long since learned to read Kaelen's moods.

"It's not the hall," Kaelen replied tersely, walking toward his horse and brushing its mane to distract himself.

"Sure. It's never the hall," Aldrin smirked, crossing his arms. "Or the drink. Or the princess."

Kaelen paused. His hands stilled. "She's not mine to think about," he said quietly.

"And yet you think about her," Aldrin countered without hesitation. "You've fought wars with focus sharper than steel, but tonight? You're rattled. Distracted. Don't tell me it's from the wine."

Kaelen leaned his forehead against the horse's neck. "Even if I did care," he admitted reluctantly, "it wouldn't change anything. Her world is walls of gold. Mine is dirt and blood."

"And yet she keeps looking at you," Aldrin said pointedly.

Kaelen didn't reply, but his silence was enough to tell Aldrin that this wasn't a battle easily fought.

---

Back in the gardens, Solenara remained lost in thought when footsteps startled her. She stiffened, expecting one of the nobles, but instead found herself facing Mireth.

"Your Highness," the maid said softly, dipping into a quick bow. "I thought I'd find you here."

"You know me too well," Solenara replied, her tone light but tinged with weariness.

"Perhaps not as well as others may come to," Mireth hinted, her voice sly.

Solenara raised a brow but said nothing, motioning for Mireth to join her on the bench. Mireth sat without hesitation, smoothing her plain dress as she settled in.

"The prince is already making plans to extend his stay," Mireth continued, her voice hushed as if they might be overheard even out here. "His intent seems... ambitious."

"Of course it does," Solenara said with a sigh. "Men like Halvryn see kingdoms as trophies. He isn't subtle about it."

Mireth watched her mistress for a moment, her sharp eyes catching what others wouldn't have noticed. "And yet you're more troubled by the quiet warrior than the ambitious prince."

Solenara flushed despite herself. "You should be careful how you speak, Mireth," she warned, though her tone lacked venom.

"Truth is seldom dangerous when spoken to those who deserve to hear it," Mireth replied, smiling gently.

The princess glanced toward the faint outline of the stable in the distance. Unbeknownst to her, somewhere out there, Kaelen lingered. A storm of unknown depth swirled in her heart, tugging her thoughts against her will.

---

Kaelen finally led his horse out of the stables, deciding that distance was his best ally tonight. He needed clarity, and the closer he stayed to the palace, the more muddled his emotions became.

But as he mounted, he caught a glimpse of the eastern gardens.

A single figure—Solenara—stood illuminated by soft moonlight, her expression serene yet tinged with something he couldn't quite name. For a moment, he didn't move, mesmerized by the sight.

A single thought crept into his mind, quiet yet undeniable:

Somewhere, beneath the weight of everything else, you know she's searching for something too.