The fire had taken everything from Seraphina—her mother, her kingdom, her name. But as she crouched behind the fallen tree, her chest still heaving from the chase, one thing burned brighter than fear:
Survival.
Kael stood first, scanning the treeline with his sword drawn. The forest had gone quiet again, but a different kind of silence this time—heavier. Dangerous. The kind of silence that came before another storm.
"They won't search far," he muttered. "Not in this part of the woods. Too close to the ruins."
"What ruins?" she asked, her voice low.
He glanced down at her. "The last outpost of the old crown. Your mother's loyalists died there years ago. Only ghosts walk those stones now."
Seraphina pulled her cloak tighter. "Then maybe ghosts will welcome one more."
Kael gave the faintest smile—bitter, but not cruel. "You talk like a queen already."
She looked away. "I'm not a queen. Not anymore."
"That crown was yours the moment your mother died," he said. "Whether you wear it or not."
She hated the sound of it. Queen. What did it mean to rule a kingdom of ash?
Kael turned and began moving through the trees. "We need to reach the river before nightfall. If they find us again in the dark, I won't be able to protect you."
Seraphina hesitated, then followed. "You talk like you care."
He stopped. Turned.
"I don't have to care to honor a vow."
She wasn't sure why, but the words stung. Maybe because they reminded her of the world she'd lost—where loyalty was rare, but love was rarer.
They walked in silence for an hour, deeper into the heart of the forest. The terrain grew rougher. Thorns snagged her dress. Her boots filled with mud. But Seraphina didn't complain. She wouldn't give Kael the satisfaction of seeing her weak.
At last, the trees broke to reveal a narrow river, its surface glowing orange from the setting sun. A fallen tree stretched across it like a crude bridge.
Kael knelt beside the water, splashing it on his face and arms. Seraphina stood at the edge, staring at her reflection. The girl who looked back at her was a stranger—eyes too tired, hair matted with dirt and ash. No trace of royalty left.
"Here," Kael said, tossing her a waterskin. "You'll need your strength."
She took it, drank deeply, and sat beside him. The silence stretched again, but this time it wasn't tense.
"I don't remember you," she said at last. "From the palace."
"You wouldn't," he replied. "I wasn't a knight. I wasn't noble. I was your mother's shadow."
"Her shadow?"
Kael nodded. "She had enemies in every direction. I was trained to see the ones no one else did."
"And now?" she asked.
"Now?" He glanced at her. "Now I see what's left. You."
She swallowed hard. "And what if I fail? What if I'm not strong enough?"
Kael didn't answer right away. Then he said, "You survived when the rest of the court burned. That's strength."
"I ran," she whispered. "My mother fought, and I ran."
"She chose to die for you," he said firmly. "Don't insult her sacrifice by pretending it wasn't worth something."
Seraphina looked down at her hands. They were trembling again, just like they had in the fire.
"I don't feel like a queen," she admitted.
Kael stood. "Then we'll make you one."
As the stars began to peek through the darkening sky, Kael lit a small fire under the cover of a rock shelf. The flames danced low, crackling quietly. Seraphina sat beside it, her eyes distant.
"What now?" she asked.
Kael stared into the fire.
"Now, we go find the people who still believe in your bloodline."
"Do they exist?"
"Some," he said. "Scattered, hidden, afraid. But if they see you… if they know you live, they'll rise."
"And if they don't?" she asked.
Kael drew his blade and laid it across his knees.
"Then I fight until I fall. Oaths don't end just because kings lie.