The Primordial Flame

Finding my way.

I look past Arden's shoulder to the dark corner of the room where the man on the floor begins to stir.

A sharp, metallic rasp echoes off the stone as he slowly pushes himself up. The violent, purple magic that pulled us back from the edge of death seems to have knitted his broken frame, his once-shattered jaw setting back into place, his paralyzed limbs moving with a smooth, terrifying new strength.

"Who is that?" I ask, my voice dropping into a confused, uneasy whisper.

The moment my eyes lock onto his, a sudden, violent wave of nausea crashes over me. A sickening, icy knot tightens instantly in the pit of my stomach, making my breath hitch in my throat. I don't know his name, I don't know his face, but every instinct in my body screams in pure, instinctual horror.

Without thinking, I flinch backward on the cold altar, my fingers instinctively tightening into the leather of Arden's sleeve as I shrink into his shadow.

Arden feels me tense, and his reaction is instantaneous. His arm sweeps across my front, shifting his broad frame to completely block the man from my sight. His hand slides to the hilt of his broadsword, the steel clearing the scabbard with a lethal, ringing hiss.

Down on the floor, Alaric rises to his full height. He rotates his neck, a sickening crack echoing in the quiet room as his dark, hollow eyes fix straight onto me. He takes a slow step forward, a dark, twisted smirk spreading across his face as he tests his newly healed jaw.

"She doesn't even remember you, King Alaric," Arden snarls, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl that vibrates through my shoulder where I press against him. "The bond is broken. Her blood is clean. Step one inch closer to her, and I will tear your head from your shoulders."

I scramble up off the cold stone altar, the heavy midnight-blue velvet of my gown rustling around my ankles, and place a pale, trembling hand firmly on Arden's broad shoulder.

"Oh no, please don’t fight," I plead soft and fast, my voice laced with genuine panic. I look between Arden's drawn blade and the towering man before us, my blank mind completely blind to the monster he truly is. "Surely there is another way to sort out this disagreement?"

Arden stiffens beneath my touch, his golden eyes flickering back to me with a look of sheer, gut-wrenching agony. He can see the utter innocence in my face, the tragic reality that while I feel an instinctual revulsion toward the man, I have no idea that he is the brutal king who bound, threatened, and tried to break me.

Unfortunately, Alaric's memories are fully intact.

Alaric takes a slow, predatory step forward, his newly healed jaw flexing as a dark, sickening smile spreads across his features. His hollow eyes lock onto my hands where they rest on Arden's armor, drinking in my complete confusion.

"A disagreement?" Alaric rasps, his voice smooth and dripping with cruel amusement. He tilts his head, taking in my wide, frightened eyes.

"Is that what you call it, my delicate little queen? You truly don't remember, do you?"

"Don't speak to her," Arden snarls, his grip tightening on his sword until his knuckles turn white, his body stepping further into my path to shield me completely. "She is no queen of yours. The blood is drained, the vow is dead, and you have no hold on her."

Alaric ignores Arden entirely, his dark gaze piercing straight through the space between us to meet mine. "She might not remember the vows, boy, but I do. And if her mind is a clean slate." Alaric's smirk widens, cold and ruthless.

"Then she is far easier to take back."

"Vows?" I whisper, the word sounding twisted and unnatural. "We are married?"

My face contorts in immediate disgust and total disbelief. My gaze darts between Alaric's cold, predatory smile and the broad, fierce man standing beside me. I look at Arden, at his striking golden eyes, his raw devotion, the way my body naturally leans toward him for safety and my mind revolts at the very thought. I could never have chosen that pale, hollow monster over him.

Driven by a desperate need to make sense of the nightmare, I take a small step forward toward Alaric, opening my mouth to demand answers.

Before my foot can even hit the stone floor, a heavy arm sweeps around my waist, halting me instantly.

Arden pulls me back against his solid chest, anchoring me firmly to his side with a protective, unbreakable grip. "You don't step near him, Amelisse," he growls, his voice dark and trembling with a lethal edge.

He turns his fierce golden gaze to Alaric, his hand resting tightly on his sword's pommel as his chest heaves against my back.

"You didn't choose him," Arden says, his words directed at Alaric, but meant entirely for my ears. "He forced you. He chained you, cursed your blood, and threatened to destroy everything you loved to make you stand at that altar."

Alaric lets out a low, mocking laugh, taking another deliberate step closer, his eyes glinting with dark arrogance. "And yet, my dear guard, in the eyes of the law, the church, and the kingdom, she walked down that aisle as my bride. Memory or no memory, her father handed her to me."

"Her father is dead to her, and so are you,"

Bram barks from the shadows near the door, drawing his own blade with a loud iron rasp.

"The bond is broken, Alaric. You have no magic left in her blood, and you are outnumbered."

Alaric's smirk falters slightly as he looks between Arden's drawn steel and Bram's guarded stance. He realizes he no longer holds the magical leash that bound my life to his.

I press closer into Arden's side, my fingers digging into the leather of his armor as I look up at him. "Arden." I whisper, my heart pounding against his ribs. "Is it true? Was I forced?"

Arden slowly turns his face to look down at me, his golden eyes burning with a mixture of raw grief and unyielding fierce protection. He nods once, a silent, heavy confirmation that shatters any doubts lingering in my mind.

"Yes, Princess," he whispers softly for my ears alone, his voice laced with a deep, protective tender ache. "You were forced. But you fought him every single step of the way."

Then his jaw sets like iron, and his gaze snaps back to Alaric with lethal precision. His hand tightens white-knuckled around the hilt of his broadsword, his chest heaving as he takes a full, towering step between Alaric and me.

"And you never consummated the marriage," Arden snarls, his deep voice ringing out through the shadowy, stone room like a death sentence.

"So by law, Alaric, she is not your wife. The church acknowledges no unblemished union, the magic is bled clean, and her blood is no longer bound to yours."

Alaric's dark smirk instantly vanishes, replaced by a sudden, ugly contortion of rage. His nostrils flare as he looks from Arden's lethal blade to the complete emptiness in my eyes. He knows Arden speaks the absolute truth, without the blood magic tethering us, and without the consummation, any legal or spiritual claim he held over me has vanished into ash.

"You think you've saved her, boy?" Alaric spat, his voice trembling with bitter, toxic fury as he took a cautious step backward, sensing Bram closing in near the exit. "She doesn't even know who you are. She looks at you like a stranger."

"She looks at me like a stranger," Arden rasps, his golden eyes blazing with a terrifying, absolute resolve as he lifts his blade, pointing the sharp steel directly at Alaric's throat. "And yet she still trusts me more than she will ever trust you. Now step back into the dark where you belong, before I fulfill the vow I made on the road and carve your heart from your chest."

I step out from behind the broad frame of Arden's shoulder, my hand still resting against the leather of his armor, anchoring myself to his side.

I look directly at Alaric, my voice ringing steady and clear through the cold, shadow-drenched room.

"I’m not going with you," I tell him, every trace of hesitation gone from my tone. "I’m going with Arden."

Alaric’s face darkens, a flicker of disbelief crossing his bitter features, but I don't break eye contact.

"I might not have my memories," I continue softly, glancing up into the striking golden eyes of the man beside me before looking back at the king, "but I know my place is at his side."

A sudden, sharp breath hitches in Arden's chest. Beside me, I can feel the rigid tension in his shoulders give way to a shuddering, profound wave of emotion. He doesn't take his golden eyes off Alaric, but his left hand reaches down, his heavy, leather-clad fingers wrapping around mine and gripping them with a tight, desperate fierce devotion.

Down in the shadows, Alaric steps back, his jaw clenching as he realizes he has lost entirely. The blood magic is gone, the legal claim is void, and even with a blank mind, my heart has chosen Arden all over again.

"Get out," Arden growls, his broadsword gleaming lethal in the dim torchlight, his thumb softly stroking the back of my knuckles. "Before I change my mind and leave you in this cottage forever."

Alaric glares at us, a venomous promise of vengeance burning in his hollow eyes, before he turns on his heel and disappears into the thick, suffocating mist outside the cottage door. Bram steps to the doorway, keeping a watchful blade drawn until the king's heavy footsteps fade completely into the night.

The heavy silence of the forest settles over the room, leaving only the soft crackle of the hearth fire and the sound of Arden's ragged, shuddering breathing.

His grip on my hand remains tight, almost frantic, as if he’s still terrified I might vanish into thin air. His broad shoulders are hunched, his strong jaw clamped shut in a tight, painful line, and his golden eyes are fixed on the floor, heavy with the devastating weight of everything he’s lost tonight.

I turn slightly, my brows furrowing as I study the rigid, agonized tension written across his handsome face. I reach up with my free hand, my fingertips resting gently against the side of his stubbled jaw.

"Are you always this upset?" I ask softly, my voice laced with a quiet, genuine curiosity.

Arden flinches at the warmth of my touch, his golden eyes slowly lifting to meet mine, swimming with an overwhelming, vulnerable emotion he can barely contain.

A tiny, playful smile touches my lips as I tilt my head up at him.

"I think you’d look rather handsome if you smiled," I say gently.