Chapter 5 - Crown Ash

The night wind of Solaris carried a chill not born of weather, but of omen. Something in the air had shifted—fractured—and Aurelia felt it as she stood on her chamber balcony, staring northward toward the bell tower whose chimes rang hollow against the dark.

She hadn't slept. Her silk nightgown clung to her like a shadow, but her mind was too loud for blankets or tea to silence.

Below, the royal gardens lay still. No servants. No guards. Only the long shadow of a blind-eyed angel statue, gazing skyward as though awaiting a rain of blood.

Footsteps behind her drew her from the silence.

Caelum.

His black armor had been replaced with a dark tunic. He bowed slightly, respectful but distant. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I was told you hadn't retired."

Aurelia arched a brow, half-mocking. "Worried I might flee again tonight?"

Caelum didn't reply, though his eyes spoke volumes. He knew what it was to want to flee—and knew Aurelia was the kind to burn the world rather than run from it.

"Serion announced his engagement today," Aurelia said at last, her tone flat.

Caelum nodded.

"Princess Arienne of House Lysere. Gentle. Obedient. She won't challenge his throne." Aurelia exhaled. "Perfect. A crown's perfect doll."

"And a safe choice," Caelum murmured.

Aurelia met his eyes. "There are no safe choices in this palace."

Silence settled between them. Caelum stepped closer but never crossed the invisible boundary—the line Aurelia herself had drawn, a wall between trust and devastation.

"Why are you here tonight?" she asked.

Caelum looked past her to the gardens. "Because if I didn't come, you'd face this alone. And I think... you've been alone long enough."

For a fleeting moment, Aurelia's expression softened. Just a flicker.

"I've always been alone, Caelum," she whispered. "Even with family. Even as a duke's daughter. Even when I loved—"

She stopped herself.

Caelum asked nothing. But there was something in his gaze. Not pity. Not sorrow. Understanding.

Aurelia inhaled and turned away. "You can stay. Not as a guard. As someone I can kill if I can't sleep."

A wry tone, but her eyes weren't joking.

Caelum nodded. He sat by the fireplace, still and alert.

Time slowed. The hourglass on the table spilled its grains like venom.

Eventually, Aurelia spoke again. "Serion came earlier."

Caelum turned his head.

"He said... the engagement is only political. That once he takes the throne, he'll dissolve it. He said he needs a wife who can fight the world beside him. Not one who bows."

"Do you believe him?"

She stared at him. Long. "No. But Serion never speaks without motive. He's baiting me."

"You."

"Me."

Caelum rose and walked to the window, gazing at the sinking moon.

"Then what do you choose, Aurelia?"

He used her name. Not her title. And something clenched in her chest harder than any chill.

"I don't know," she breathed. "I only know I won't be a tool. Not Serion's. Not the council's. Not the crown's."

And as she said it, something cracked in her—tension, grief, rage. She stepped toward Caelum.

"You've always been here," she whispered. "Since I returned. You've stayed. Never asked for anything. Never demanded."

Caelum's gaze was steady. "Because it's not my right."

Aurelia reached up, touching his face—cold, firm, real. Not illusion. Not strategy.

"You make me feel like I still have a choice, in a world that steals all of them."

And before reason could speak, before fear could bloom—she kissed him.

Brief. Fierce. Honest.

Caelum didn't return it, but neither did he pull away. He stood still, letting her.

When she stepped back, she murmured, "Sorry." But her tone carried no regret.

Caelum looked at her. "I won't speak of it. Not unless you wish it."

Aurelia chuckled softly. "That's why I kissed you. Not Serion."

She moved to the hearth, gaze fixed on the fire gnawing the logs. Beneath her cold mask, her breath trembled. She had crossed a line she hadn't dared measure. But she felt no shame.

Caelum stood silently. Not demanding. Not judging. And in that silence, Aurelia felt more fragile than ever.

"Am I playing with fate?" she murmured.

"You're not playing, Aurelia. You're surviving."

She turned. "And you? Will you still stand by me once I destroy everything I've ever built?"

"Unless you ask me to leave—I'll stay."

A simple answer. But it felt like an oath sealed in something deeper than blood.

Then came the knock.

They exchanged a look. Not a servant's knock. Too precise. Too hesitant. Caelum reached for his sword. Aurelia said, "Open it."

He did.

As they expected—Serion.

His face calm, but his eyes thunderous. He looked to Aurelia, then to Caelum. Words unsaid carved the air between them.

"I wish to speak. With Aurelia alone."

Aurelia raised her chin. "Midnight visits without manners?"

"I haven't the time for manners tonight."

He stepped in. Caelum lingered. Aurelia gave a nod. "Wait on the balcony."

Caelum left.

Serion turned to her. "I'll annul the engagement."

Aurelia stared. "So soon?"

"I never intended to marry Arienne. I needed to pacify the southern houses. Her father was willing. But once I'm crowned, that engagement burns."

Aurelia smiled coldly. "And I'm supposed to be impressed?"

"I want you to know—I still choose you."

Silence.

She poured herself wine. "You think I've waited?"

"You still care," Serion said. "You listened tonight. That's enough for me to wager."

Aurelia drank. "You're a master player, Serion. But I'm not your pawn."

He stepped closer. "I don't want a pawn. I want an equal."

She set her glass down. "Then start with truth. What do you know of my father's death?"

Serion froze. "Aurelia—"

"You know more than you admit."

His face tightened. Then, slowly, he nodded. "He was murdered. I don't yet know by whom. If I move too early, they'll come for you."

Aurelia's fists clenched. "You stayed silent."

"I've been moving pieces. Like you."

They stared—no longer lovers, no longer allies. Predators gauging which would strike first.

"If you stand beside me," Serion said, "I'll burn the council for you."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll let you go. But you'll lose your chance to reshape this world."

She nodded.

"Leave my room, Serion."

He bowed—not in submission, but in pause. "Think about it, Aurelia."

He left.

Caelum returned.

Aurelia asked, "You heard?"

He nodded.

"Would you kill me if I chose Serion?"

"No."

"Hate me?"

"No."

"Then why stay?"

Caelum moved closer. His voice was calm, resolute. "Because I chose you—not your choices. You. The one who still stands when the world gives no ground."

Aurelia held her breath.

Only silence remained—honest, piercing.

And behind that silence, a storm was coming.