Page 27 of House Ignis

"I'll burn his dick off," Aether added darkly through the bond.

"I'll burn his dick off," she said in sync with Aether. She reached out, her hand gripping my shoulder firmly, her thumb brushing a stray blonde strand from my cheek.

"Go take your bath. Get him off your skin."

She held my gaze for a moment longer—a silent vow of protection—then turned toward her suite, Luna padding after her. The door clicked shut, leaving the room in a heavy, ringing silence.

I sank onto the edge of the massive bed, my pulse still racing. Aether vaulted up beside me in a fluid, silent motion, his sleek body curling along my side.

He didn't speak. He only watched me with those molten-gold eyes—ancient and unblinking—searching for the fractures I was trying so hard to hide.

I slid my fingers deep into his obsidian fur, gripping the warmth of him.

"It's okay," I whispered. The words felt fragile, like glass about to shatter.

He didn't argue. He simply leaned his heavy weight into me, a low rumble vibrating through his chest and into my ribs until it felt like armor settling over bone.

After a moment, I stood and peeled the ruined silk from my skin. The gown slipped to the floor in a quiet, shimmering heap of red and gold. My arm throbbed the second I lifted it to unfasten the stays.

When I glanced down, a bruise was already blooming along my wrist—dark, ugly, and shaped like a warning.

Bastard.

Steam curled from the bath Ember had drawn, the scent of expensive oils filling the room.

I stepped into the water and sank down slowly, the heat wrapping around me in a searing, restorative embrace.

The burn in my chest eased first, followed by the tension in my shoulders, the sting of Zorian's grip fading beneath the scalding warmth until it became just another distant ache.

I let my head rest against the cool porcelain rim and closed my eyes. The world quieted.

The frantic buzzing in my skull softened into a dull hum.

And for the first time since the courtyard—since the shadows and the silver eyes—I breathed.

CHAPTER FOUR

Tears blurred my vision as I watched my brother's casket descend into the hollowed earth.

Each inch it sank felt like a part of me was being lowered with it—my breath, my strength, the future that still had him in it. The ropes creaked, a slow, agonizing protest in the silence.

Then came the sound that broke me, soil thudding softly against polished wood.

My hands trembled, no matter how tightly I clasped them together. Beside me, my mother finally collapsed into my father's chest, her sobs raw and unguarded, tearing through the heavy air.

His arms wrapped around her, rigid as stone, his jaw locked so tight I thought the bone might crack. His eyes were bloodshot but dry.

A king does not fall apart in front of his people. Not even when he buries his son.

The entire kingdom had come to witness the end of an era. Nobles dressed in black and blood-red crowded the hillside, their heads bowed in practiced or genuine sorrow.

Soldiers stood at attention, their gleaming armor draped in heavy mourning cloth, while the citizens filled the lower terraces—silent, shattered, and lost.

They weren't just grieving a prince. They were grieving the golden flame of Zymarra. The heir. The promise of our future.

Gone.

Ember stood on my left, her usual fire dampened to a smolder. Maddy was on my right, her breathing hitching in time with mine. Ryven hovered close behind, his arm firm and steady around my shoulders as if he thought I might actually tip forward into the grave. We were a line of splintered ribs, barely holding the heart of our house together, pretending to be strong for a kingdom that was watching our every move.