The Throne of Bones
846 Words
Kael took me to the throne room.
Not for an audience. Not for a speech.
For war.
“You need control,” he said, stripping off his coat and tossing it aside. “Your fire will consume you if you don’t master it. And if it doesn’t…” His voice dropped. “The court will find a way to do it for you.”
I crossed my arms. “What’s the plan? Tough love? Fire yoga?”
His eyes flicked to mine—dark, focused, ready.
“No. We fight.”
I blinked. “Wait—you’re serious?”
He stepped onto the black-sand floor and drew a sword forged in flame.
Oh, he was serious.
“Control doesn’t come from calm,” he said. “It comes from chaos.”
And then he charged.
I barely dodged the first swing.
Steel hissed through the air where my neck had been a second earlier. I rolled, cursed, and summoned fire instinctively—just a flicker—but it was enough to push him back.
Kael grinned.
“You’re learning.”
“Learning you’re an asshole.”
He lunged again, faster this time. I countered with flame, but he slipped through, pressed me back, blade to my throat in seconds.
“Too slow.”
“Too rude.”
I knocked his sword hand aside and kicked him square in the chest.
He flew back a few feet, landed on one knee—and laughed.
“You’ll make a ruthless queen.”
“Still not trying to be one.”
He stood again, eyes burning. “Then what are you trying to be, Azelrah?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
A survivor?
A weapon?
A girl trying not to fall in love with a man who once buried her in ash?
We fought for what felt like hours—flames, blades, sparks. The air crackled with raw energy. His power danced with mine, pushing, pulling, tempting.
Until I pinned him.
One knee on his chest.
My hand at his throat, flame poised in my palm.
Kael didn’t resist.
He looked up at me like I was the most dangerous thing he’d ever seen—and the most beautiful.
“Do it,” he whispered.
I leaned closer.
“What if I want to?”
He smiled, slow and dangerous.
“Then I’d know you’re finally becoming her.”
The fire in my hand trembled.
Not from weakness.
From fear.
Fear that he was right.
Fear that some part of me wanted to break him.
And love him for surviving it.
⸻
I walked alone after.
My body still hummed with heat. My soul felt half-peeled open. And my thoughts? A mess.
I didn’t want to be this version of me.
Didn’t want to be fated.
Didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe, I craved Kael’s fire the way a storm craves the sky.
I made it halfway back to my room before I felt her.
Vashara.
She stepped from the shadows like a ghost in heels.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, mortal,” she said, arms folded, lips painted with venom.
“Hi to you too, Cruella.”
She sneered. “You may have won the court’s curiosity, but you’ll never win their loyalty. They’ll never follow you.”
“I don’t need them to follow me,” I said. “I need them to stay the hell out of my way.”
Her smile sharpened.
“I came to offer you a choice. A rare kindness.”
“That sounds fake.”
“Leave him. Now. Before the final bond is sealed.”
I laughed. “You think I’m here for love?”
She stepped closer.
“No. I think you’re here for vengeance. Or power. Or because fate forced your hand. But if you stay—if you bond with him again—you’ll die. Just like last time.”
I flinched.
She saw it.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I was there, Azelrah. I watched him fall apart. And I watched you fall into the flame. Don’t make the same mistake.”
I stared at her.
“What do you get out of this?”
She tilted her head.
“If you leave… I can still claim the crown.”
There it was.
Truth.
I stepped closer. Eye to eye.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said softly.
“You should be,” she whispered.
Then she vanished.
Like smoke.
Like warning.
⸻
That night, I sat alone in Kael’s study, staring at the scroll I’d stolen from the forbidden library.
The Flame Shall Rise Again.
If Loved, She Burns.
If Feared, She Rules.
My hands trembled.
Because I was starting to believe it.
And worse?
I didn’t know which one I wanted to be.
The girl who burned?
Or the queen who ruled?
Behind me, the door creaked open.
Kael.
He didn’t speak.
Just stood in the doorway.
Watching.
Waiting.
And even though we were only feet apart…
It had never felt like we were further.
- Writer
