From the windows of the Queen’s chamber, the city stretches outward in quiet motion. Smoke no longer rises in desperate plumes, but in steady threads from hearths relit in makeshift homes. Voices carry through the streets—not in fear, not in command, but in something far simpler.
Life.
Kael stands at the edge of it, one boot braced against the floor as he laces the other with practiced precision. The leather is worn, the movement familiar, grounding in a way little else has been since the war ended.
There is comfort in the ritual. A reminder that ordinary life still exists.
“Now that I’m the Sword of Aevryn,” he says, almost absently, testing the weight of the words as he tightens the final knot, “I suppose I should make an effort to look the part.”
Behind him, Elyssara shifts against the sheets, propped on one elbow, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulder in soft disarray as she watches him with quiet amusement.
“You sound just as bad as Ronyn,” she replies. “After making him the Heart of Aevryn, I didn’t think the man could become more insufferable, but he has proven me wrong at every possible opportunity.”
A faint smile touches Kael’s mouth as he reaches for his second boot.
“You should’ve given it to Seren. Would’ve saved a lot of insufferable theatrics from him.”
Elyssara huffs a small laugh. “No,” she sighs. “Seren was always going to leave. I think she’s enjoying her role inside Lara’s Marrow. She needed to go… after…” she trails off.
Kael nods, grief still bearing down on his chest.
“Well… now we’re stuck with Ronyn’s dinner toasts that go for what feels like four days,” Kael laughs softly, the sound trying and failing to fill the space Teddy left behind.
Elyssara giggles at that. “He has taken the role in his stride, I will admit.”
“That’s because you gave him a title that feeds directly into his already inflated sense of importance.”
“And you thinkyoursdoesn’t?” she counters lightly.
He smiles to himself.
“It probably does. But that’s not why this one matters to me.”
He glances back at her then, softness threading through his expression now.
“This title is different,” he says.
“How?”
Kael pauses for a moment, his fingers stilling against the leather.
Because it is.
It’s not about power or status in the way titles are meant to be, and not in the way power is usually claimed and exercised.
“This title is something I chose,” he says finally. “Not something I was born into. Not something I had to become to survive.”
His gaze holds hers.
“My title is where I stand.Byyou.Foryou.”
Elyssara’s expression shifts, the humor easing into tenderness as she studies him.
“You were always there,” she says softly. “Even when you were also King of Zerynthia.”
He was—just not entirely.
By her side, but also fighting for his kingdom.
