DAUGHTER OF ASH AND NIGHT

The chamber was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of burning embers. A single brazier cast flickering light across the stone walls, creating restless shadows that seemed to breathe with the night. Kaelith sat at the head of a long, dark table, fingers tapping against the polished wood. His gaze was distant, locked on the arched window that overlooked the city of Varneth.

Across from him stood Varian, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He had always been a patient man, but even patience had its limits.

"You've been silent for too long, my prince," Varian finally said, his voice smooth but edged with expectation. "The court watches, waiting for you to prove them wrong—or to fall into irrelevance. Your enemies grow comfortable, thinking you're just another pawn. Are you going to let them believe that?"

Kaelith let out a low, humorless chuckle, but he didn't look away from the window. Let them believe it. Let them grow complacent. That was when they would be the easiest to destroy.

"I want them to believe I am contained," he murmured. "The moment they stop looking over their shoulders, I'll rip their throats out."

Varian smirked, his fangs just barely peeking through his lips. "Now that's more like you." He leaned forward slightly. "But I have to ask—when do we start drawing blood?"

Kaelith finally turned, his crimson gaze meeting Varian's. "Not yet," he said. "The throne will not fall to brute force alone. If I take it now, I'll have the entire empire's might turned against me. I need to dismantle Regnar's rule from the inside first—fracture it beyond repair. There are nobles who despise him. Generals who believe he has grown soft. I will turn them all against him, one by one."

Varian nodded, his expression unreadable. "A war without swords. A slow kill. It suits you."

He studied Kaelith for a long moment before his smirk returned, this time laced with something knowing.

"And what about her?"

Kaelith didn't need to ask who he meant. His expression didn't change, but his fingers curled slightly against the wood of the table.

Varian tilted his head, watching him with sharp amusement. "You bound yourself to her to save her from execution. To use her as a pawn in this war. And yet..." His gaze narrowed. "You haven't discarded her. Not yet."

Kaelith's jaw tightened. "She is useful."

"Is she?" Varian raised an eyebrow. "Or are you hesitating?"

Kaelith's gaze darkened. "She is mine," he said simply, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the room. "And she will serve her purpose."

Varian chuckled, shaking his head. "If you say so." He leaned against the wall, his amusement lingering. "But be careful, my prince. Pawns have a way of becoming queens when you're not paying attention."

Kaelith didn't respond. Instead, he turned back to the window, watching the city below. His fingers still tingled faintly—the lingering sensation of Aliana's touch from earlier, the scent of her still fresh in his mind.

He shoved the thought away.

This was not about her.

This was about vengeance.

And no one—not Regnar, not the court, and certainly not Aliana—would stand in his way.

The Market of Varneth

The streets of Varneth's lower district were alive with movement, the scent of spiced meats and fresh herbs clashing against the damp, earthen aroma of the cobblestone roads. Merchants called out from their stalls, voices rising above the chatter of townsfolk and the occasional snap of fabric as a gust of wind stirred through the narrow pathways.

A woman walked among them, her hood drawn low, the fabric of her cloak thick enough to obscure her features. She moved with purpose, her steps neither hurried nor slow, as if she belonged but did not wish to be seen.

At a small stall tucked between a spice vendor and a blacksmith's stand, she stopped. An old merchant sat behind the wooden counter, his face weathered, his eyes small and shrewd. A display of gemstones lay before him, their surfaces dull beneath the clouded sky.

The woman extended a gloved hand, brushing her fingertips over a row of crimson gems—ordinary to most, but to those who knew what to look for, they were anything but.

The merchant watched her closely. "Rare finds, those are." His voice was gravelly, each word dragging as if weighed down. "Not often do I get a buyer who knows their worth."

The woman didn't respond, merely tapped three of the stones with a delicate motion. The merchant nodded, scooping them into a small pouch and holding it out.

"Ten gold," he said.

She handed him the coins without question, her movements swift, practiced. She did not linger.

As she turned away, weaving through the crowd once more, the sounds of the market dulled in her ears. She walked until the chaos faded, until the chatter of merchants and the clang of metal against metal became distant echoes.

Finally, when she was alone, she stopped in a small secluded alleyway, where the only company was the whisper of wind against stone.

She reached into the pouch, pulling out the three gemstones.

A flicker.

A pulse.

The moment they touched her palm, a faint glow shimmered beneath their surfaces, like embers waiting to be stirred into fire. The woman tilted her head slightly, her lips curving ever so faintly.

She closed her fingers around the gems and smiled knowingly to herself.

And then, just as quietly as she had come, she disappeared into the night.

*****

The warm bathwater lapped gently against Aliana's skin as she leaned back, her body finally relaxing after the long day. The scent of herbs drifted through the chamber, mixing with the faint flickering of candlelight.

The maid, a girl named Lena, moved with careful precision as she poured water over Aliana's hair, her fingers working through the long strands.

"You must be getting used to palace life by now," Lena said softly, her voice light with curiosity.

Aliana scoffed, opening her eyes halfway. "I wouldn't say that."

Lena smiled. "It's different, isn't it? I've heard the palace can feel suffocating to those who are new. So many rules, so many people watching."

Aliana hummed in agreement. "I don't think I'll ever get used to having maids fussing over me every second."

Lena giggled. "It's our job, my lady. If we don't fuss, we'll be scolded for neglecting you."

Aliana smirked. "Then I suppose I should be grateful for all the fussing."

Lena poured another basin of water over her shoulders, rubbing gentle circles against her skin. "But it must be… strange, right? To be the prince's mate."

Aliana stiffened.

Lena didn't seem to notice, continuing lightly, "What do you think of Prince Kaelith?"

Aliana's eyes snapped open.

The warmth of the bathwater suddenly felt too hot against her skin.

"That is none of your concern, Lena," she said, her tone polite, but firm.

Lena's lips parted, and she immediately bowed her head. "Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to overstep."

Aliana exhaled and closed her eyes again. "Just focus on the bath."

Lena obeyed without another word, dipping a cloth into the water before rubbing it over Aliana's arm—and then she froze.

Aliana noticed immediately. "Lena?"

The maid's breath hitched, her fingers trembling as she pulled back.

"What is it?" Aliana asked, brow furrowing.

"My lady," Lena whispered, eyes locked onto her shoulder. "What… what is that?"

Aliana blinked in confusion and turned her head slightly. That's when she saw it.

A deep blue mark stretched from her neck down to her wrist, feathered and delicate, like ink painted onto her skin. It looked like a tattoo—except it wasn't. The way it shimmered slightly under the candlelight, the way it seemed to breathe against her skin, made it feel almost… alive.

Aliana's stomach twisted. "What the hell?"

Lena's hands shook as she reached out again, barely brushing her fingers over the mark. The moment she did, she recoiled sharply, letting out a small cry.

"It feels real," she whispered, eyes wide with shock. "Like… like feathers."

Aliana ran her own fingers over it, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. The texture wasn't just smooth—it was soft, velvety, like the surface of a real feather. But that made no sense.

"This wasn't here before," Aliana muttered, rubbing harder, as if she could erase it. But it didn't fade. It didn't smudge. It was a part of her.

Lena shot to her feet, panicked. "I—I need to inform His Highness."

Aliana grabbed her wrist. "Wait—"

But Lena jerked away. "Please, my lady, this could be serious!" She didn't wait for permission. She turned and rushed out of the chamber, nearly slipping on the wet floors in her haste.

Aliana stared after her, heart hammering.

She glanced down again at the feathered mark on her skin, an uneasy feeling curling in her stomach.

What was this?

And why did it feel like something was waking up inside her?

Lena stood in front of Prince Kaelith, her hands clasped tightly together, her pulse hammering in her ears. She had seen him angry before, but there was something far more unsettling about the way he simply stared at her now, his expression unreadable.

"My Prince," she began, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Something…strange happened."

Kaelith remained silent, waiting.

Lena swallowed. "I was assisting Lady Aliana with her bath when I noticed it. At first, I thought it was just a smudge of ink, but when I touched it…" She hesitated, glancing at her fingertips as if the sensation still lingered. "It felt real. Like actual feathers. But it looked like a tattoo."

Kaelith's fingers, which had been resting on the armrest of his chair, stilled.

"Describe it," he said, his voice even, but there was something sharp underneath it.

Lena nodded quickly. "It starts from the side of her neck and trails down to her wrist. A deep blue—almost glowing. The feathers are…too detailed to be anything natural. It wasn't there before. It just—appeared."

Kaelith's jaw tightened slightly, but he remained composed.

"And what did she say about it?"

"She seemed confused, my Prince. Genuinely confused."

A silence stretched between them, heavy and charged.

Lena hesitated before adding, "I wasn't sure if I should alert the palace healer or… or if this is something you should see first."

Kaelith exhaled slowly through his nose, his crimson eyes darkening slightly.

"You did the right thing."

Lena let out a breath of relief.

Then, without another word, Kaelith stood. His movements were smooth, controlled—but there was an underlying urgency to them.

Lena quickly bowed and stepped aside as he strode past her, his steps silent but purposeful.

By the time she turned to glance back, he was already gone.

Aliana sat on the edge of her bed, still gripping the damp towel around her shoulders. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The maid—Lena—had fled the room like she had seen a ghost, her scream still ringing faintly in Aliana's ears.

Before she could process it, the doors to her chambers swung open with force.

Kaelith.

He moved like a shadow, swift and purposeful, his long coat billowing slightly behind him. His crimson eyes locked onto her, unblinking, calculating.

"Show me," he commanded.

Aliana frowned. "Show you what?"

His gaze flicked down to her wrist. "The mark."

Something about his tone made her stomach tighten, but she hesitantly pulled back the loose sleeve of her robe, revealing the strange deep-blue feathered pattern stretching from her neck down to her wrist. The candlelight made it shimmer, almost as if it were alive.

Kaelith moved closer, his fingers brushing against the mark with a gentleness that didn't match his usual demeanor. His touch was cool, sending a shiver up her spine.

She tried to keep her voice steady. "I didn't feel anything when it appeared. Lena was the one who noticed it first. She screamed, and when I looked—it was just there."

Kaelith's fingers pressed lightly over the design. It felt like feathers—soft, almost delicate—but unnaturally cold, as if magic itself was woven into her skin.

His jaw clenched.

"This is not normal," he muttered.

"No kidding," Aliana shot back, then tried to pull her hand away. He didn't let go.

His wings unfurled suddenly—dark, immense, a striking reminder of what he was. The candlelight flickered wildly, throwing long shadows across the room.

Aliana swallowed hard.

He exhaled sharply, his gaze flicking toward the door before settling back on her. His expression had changed. Not just unreadable—urgent.

"We need to leave. Now."

Aliana blinked. "What?"

Kaelith didn't loosen his grip. "Magic is forbidden here, Aliana. You should not have this mark."

Her breath caught.

The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave. Magic was outlawed in Varneth. The Court barely tolerated her existence as it was—still displeased that she was alive, that she was blood-bound to the prince.

If they found out about this?

"They'll kill you," Kaelith said, as if reading her thoughts. "No hesitation. No trial. The moment the Court learns of this mark, they will see you as an abomination that needs to be eradicated."

Aliana's skin went cold.

Kaelith's grip on her wrist tightened slightly. "I'm taking you somewhere—now."

"Where?" she asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

He was already pulling her toward the door. "To find answers before it's too late."