CHAPTER 7: THE EMBER COURT

After acquiring the gift he had prepared for Aelindria, to help her grieve the loss of her beloved.

Valerius returned to the Hall of Flames, the seat of House Ignarion’s power.

A fortified bastion carved into the very bellows of an active volcano, it was the ancestral stronghold of humanity’s greatest House of Fire.

Tucked under his arm was a lacquered wooden case lined in velvet, housing the soul-vessel he had commissioned.

He intended to fill it with his own magical essence.

It would serve no practical purpose for Aelindria, a woman whose blood bore the legacy of the Architect.

But that didn’t matter.

It was a token.

A silent way to be close to her, even when he could not.

But as Valerius stepped into the grand hall, past the blackened iron pillars and scaffolding, he found a gathering already in session.

The elders of House Ignarion stood assembled before the throne.

The hall was split by a molten river, its lava channeled by enchantments along an iron-banded trench, flowing steadily toward the throne’s foundation.

Magma trickled from vents in the roof like divine rainfall, seeping into the hall’s lifeblood.

A sight that would terrify any being not born of fire.

To the left stood the elder faction: conservative, superstitious, and wary of change.

To the right, the younger bloods, brash, war-hungry, and enamored with conquest.

Ordinarily, Valerius would have passed them by without a care...

But one name cut through the clamor like a dagger to the gut:

"Caedrion Ferrondel lives. Word reached us this morning; his fever broke. The poison did not claim him."

Valerius froze.

His breath caught.

Veins along his neck bulged and pulsed, glowing faintly with the crucible-blood that raced through him.

He crept nearer behind a pillar, hidden by its shadow.

The speaker remained unaware of his presence.

The younger faction’s leader scoffed, fanning himself lazily with his own hand.

"So what? Why should we care? Ferrondel are dogs. They exist for our amusement."

That drew a sharp, almost violent breath from across the magma stream.

Elder Caustian glared, barely restraining the fury in his gaze.

"Fool," he growled, pointing with a trembling hand, "though they cannot stand with us on the field, House Ignarion relies on their support to maintain this very hall! Without their structural magic, the iron around you would warp, twist, and melt to slag within a fortnight. He is the last of their line. His survival, and his marriage to that cousin of his, are the only things keeping this hall from collapse!"

The young lord rolled his eyes and gave a theatrical yawn.

Valerius, meanwhile, trembled behind the pillar.

His fury lit his eyes crimson.

But then came the voice he least expected:

"I agree with Elder Caustian," spoke Veltharion, Lord of House Ignarion, and Valerius’s father. "We should care very much that the boy lives. In fact, I say we must investigate who dared to poison him. Any such attempt is an act of treachery against our house. Were they to succeed... we would have lost our home. That cannot be tolerated."

Valerius nearly staggered backward.

An enemy? Him?

He was the heir. The future. The flame to carry their legacy forward. How could they call him... that?

Should he explain? Confess his motives? Surely they would understand...

But before he could gather his thoughts, voices echoed across the magma river in unison:

"Agreed! This is an attack on House Ignarion! Who would target House Ferrondel unless it were to wound us? Find the traitor!"

Valerius turned pale, then red. Panic took hold. His eyes darted wildly as the room blurred in a haze of fire and accusation.

He turned and fled.

—

Caedrion awoke to a strange sensation.

Something soft and heavy pressed against his chest, and something wet dragged along his neck.

Still groggy, he reached out instinctively, half-expecting a pet... only to grasp something smooth, silky, and firm.

Then came the voice; familiar, sultry, and laced with malice.

"Oh? How daring of you, little brother. You denied me last night, and now you drag me into bed the moment I tease you?"

His eyes shot open.

Sitting atop him, fully clothed, was Aelindria... his fiancée.

His hand had landed on her thigh, just above the hem of her sheer pantyhose, beneath the cuff of her leather cavalry boots. She smirked down at him like a lioness inspecting prey.

Then she leaned down and bit his ear, not a nibble this time, but a promise.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, venom and silk entwined.

"Too bad. You had your chance. Now you’ll have to wait... until our wedding night. Mother wants you in the library. Now."

She slid off him with theatrical grace, her hips swaying as she strode from the room like a satisfied conqueror.

Caedrion stared at the ceiling, dazed, and exhaled slowly.

"That woman is going to be the death of me..."