The first light of dawn filtered weakly through the high windows of the royal chamber. Aedric stirred, eyelids heavy, muscles aching from sleep and grief. He turned, reaching for Maria's warmth beside him.

  Nothing.

  His hand fell against the cool linen. The bed was empty.

  "Maria?" His voice was hoarse, nearly a whisper. Silence answered. Only the faint smell of moon oil and night herbs lingered, a scent of things otherworldly and foreign to his orderly northern world. A hollow, gnawing dread bloomed in his chest.

  He leapt to his feet, the King's instinct snapping into control even as panic clawed at his throat. The chamber was untouched. No note, no sign of departure. Only the faint disturbance in the air, like a presence that had been abruptly severed.

  Deep in the forest behind Eldrath, a figure stirred.

  Cloaked in dark wool, half-hidden beneath twisted branches, Maria lay sprawled against the damp earth. Her breath was shallow, her limbs heavy with the bone-deep exhaustion of unweaving her own soul.

  Footsteps cracked softly over dry leaves.

  She stirred, trying to sit. The world tilted violently, and she fell back into the cold embrace of the forest floor.

  Varin, Captain of the Royal Guard, had taken an early walk to clear his thoughts before council. He welcomed the solitude; the court had been tightening around him, and so had his unease about the Queen.

  That unease sharpened into something colder when he saw her.

  A figure lay prone among the leaves, cloak blending with shadow. At first he thought it a discarded bundle. Then it moved.

  Maria.

  Varin crouched a careful distance away. "Your Majesty?"

  Her eyelids fluttered. When she looked at him, her gaze was unfocused, distant—the look of someone pulled back from somewhere far less forgiving than sleep.

  "What are you doing out here?" he asked. His tone hardened immediately. His eyes swept the clearing, taking in the scorched moss, the disturbed earth, the faint metallic tang beneath the sweeter scent of burned oil. "This is not a forest one wanders into by accident."

  Maria swallowed. She tried to speak. The lie formed—but her body betrayed her.

  "I... needed air," she rasped. "I must have fainted."

  Varin straightened slightly. "At dawn. Alone. After leaving the King's chambers through a sealed garden door?" His voice carried no heat, only precision. "Wolves hunt here. So do men who prefer not to be seen."

  Maria's throat tightened. She wanted to speak, to form the simple lie, but her voice betrayed her. Only a raspy whisper emerged: "I... was out here to take some breath but then I fainted, I guess."

  Varin's sharp eyes narrowed. He studied her for a long moment. "At this hour? Alone? In the middle of the woods?" His tone wasn't just incredulous; it was laced with accusation. "Your Majesty left the King's side and exited the castle through the unused garden door, risking exposure, only to seek 'fresh air' in a known haunt for wolves and poachers?"

  He glanced pointedly at the small area of disturbed earth near her, taking in the faint, metallic scent of blood and something else, something sweet and oily that spoke of ritual burning.

  Maria, despite the agonizing emptiness where her magic used to reside, forced herself to meet his gaze. She clung to the last remnants of her royal authority like a drowning woman clings to wreckage. She drew on the stern, cold demeanor Aedric himself employed.

  She pushed herself up, supporting her weight on a shaking arm. She did not fully rise, but the act of vertical defiance was enough.

  "Are you questioning the movements of your Queen, Captain Varin?" she demanded, her voice still raspy, but laced with iron command.

  Varin stiffened, his jaw tightening, but he gave a curt, formal bow that spoke of enforced obedience, not respect. "I am inquiring into the circumstances of your compromised safety, Your Grace. My duty is to the King's protection, which includes his consort."

  Maria stared at him, her eyes cold and steady, deliberately ignoring his insubordination. "Then fulfill that duty, Captain. I am injured and cannot stand unaided. Is this the manner in which the Captain of the Royal Guard treats his Queen? By standing four paces away and trading accusations while I shiver on the damp earth?"

  She used the cold logic of the court, forcing his hand. Help me, or look disloyal.

  Varin's expression remained rigid, his suspicion undimmed. He knew she was right; failing to render aid was an actionable offense. He did not trust her, but he was bound by oath and title.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "As you command, Your Grace," Varin said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. He finally stepped forward, moving with the efficiency of a soldier, not the tenderness of a courtier. He did not touch her directly, but hooked a hand firmly beneath her arm, pulling her to her feet with a necessary, clinical force.

  Maria gasped, leaning heavily on him for a moment. Her body felt alien and weak.

  Varin noted the subtle collapse of her weight, the lack of innate resilience. "You will return to your chambers immediately, Your Grace," he dictated, his tone a low warning. "And you will offer His Majesty a far more convincing explanation than seeking 'air' in the woods at dawn. If I find any evidence of... untoward activities, I will report them without hesitation."

  Maria was pissed by his words. She glared at him and shrugged her arm from his hand. The urge was instantaneous, a spark of pure anger: to send a searing headache through his skull, a severe, punishing burst of Sunfire, a habit she had used to silence irritating courtiers her entire adult life.

  She waited for the familiar surge of heat in her palm.

  Nothing.

  The realization slammed into her with the force of a physical blow. The Sunfire was gone. The effortless power to crush his insubordination was extinguished. She would have to forget that habit forever.

  She straightened her spine, masking the terrifying vacuum inside her with raw fury. She was utterly mortal, and the King's Captain knew too much.

  "Lead the way, Captain," Maria commanded, her voice now cool, brittle, and dangerous, relying only on the threat of the crown, not the power of the witch.

  "You look different," he said quietly, a note of something like wariness threading beneath the cold formality.

  Maria's spine went rigid. "Mind your tongue."

  He didn't flinch. "A queen does not leave her bed in the dead of night without reason. And certainly not alone. Something happened here." His gaze drifted again to the scorched moss, the faint glyph like pattern the earth still remembered. "Something you don't want anyone to know."

  Her heart stuttered painfully. He cannot know. He must not.

  She lifted her chin. "You overstep."

  "And you underestimate how carefully I observe," he countered, stepping just close enough that she felt the quiet steel of his suspicion. "I will find out what this is, Your Grace. With or without your cooperation."

  Maria glared at him, her teeth gritted so tightly the ache traveled into her temples. "Take one more step into matters that are not yours," she rasped, "and you will find the King far less patient with your... concerns."

  Varin's lips twitched not a smile, but something darker. "His Majesty is already awake," he said. "And he is looking for you."

  Maria's breath caught. The forest suddenly felt too thin, the air too sharp, the world too exposed.

  Varin gestured stiffly toward the castle. "Walk. Before he sends half the guard combing the woods."

  Maria gathered the remnants of her cloak around her shaking frame. Every movement felt wrong like a puppet remembering its strings had been severed. As she took her first step, her knees nearly buckled, and Varin reached out instinctively.

  She slapped his hand away. "I said I can walk."

  "And I said nothing," he replied coolly. But his eyes, dark and flinty, never left her. Not once.

  He stayed a half step behind her the entire walk, silent but coiled tight, marking every weakness she couldn't hide anymore: the way she leaned into trees for balance, the tremors in her fingers, the faint, lingering scent of extinguished magic she no longer possessed.

  And with each faltering step, Varin's suspicion calcified into certainty. Something had changed. Something dangerous. Something she was desperate to keep hidden.

  By the time they reached the castle wall, by the time the first horns of morning sounded, the shadow of the garden gate fell across the damp earth.

  Aedric stood at the garden gate as the two emerged from the treeline..

  His face pale. His eyes burning. The early light painted him in cold gold, but there was nothing warm about him. His eyes locked onto Maria instantly.

  Relief hit first so fierce it carved lines into his expression then fear, then anger, then something deeper, heavier, closer to devastation.

  Varin stepped forward to announce her, but Aedric spoke before the captain could open his mouth.

  "Where were you?"

  Not shouted. Not thundered. But spoken like a blade laid against her throat soft, controlled, and deadly with the effort it took to hold himself together.

  Maria tried to hasten her pace, desperate to close the distance and offer a plausible lie before Varin could speak. She managed only a slow, uncertain shuffle.

  "Aedric, my love, I—" she began, her voice still weak, the effort of projecting warmth almost impossible.

  He stopped just short of touching her, his eyes scanning her face, pale and drawn, then sweeping down her damp, forest-stained cloak. He saw the unnatural fragility in her posture.

  "You were gone when I woke," he said, stepping closer, grief sharpening every line of his body. "Gone without word. Without guard. Without... without even your cloak properly fastened."

  His hand shook at his side.

  Varin bowed his head. "Your Majesty, I found the Queen collapsed in the forest. She—"

  "Collapsed?" Aedric's gaze snapped to Maria, haunted. "Were you hurt? Did someone—"

  He reached for her, but Maria instinctively stepped back weakly, barely noticeable yet Aedric saw it. It was impossible for him not to. His hand froze mid-air.

  "Why are you pulling away from me?" he whispered, barely audible.

  Maria swallowed. "I am not." But the lie tasted like ash.

  Varin watched the exchange like a man memorising every fracture.

  Aedric took in her pale face, her trembling fingers, the way she leaned infinitesimally toward a wall as though her body remembered a strength that was no longer there.

  He stepped closer again slowly this time,lowering his voice so only she could hear:

  "Maria... you're shaking."

  She stiffened.

  "You're cold. You're weak. You can barely stand." His breath shuddered. "Something happened to you."

  He cupped her cheek, and this time she didn't move, she couldn't.

  His thumb brushed the faint tear track she hadn't realised was drying on her skin.

  "Tell me," he whispered, voice cracking, "what happened last night?"

  Maria's vision blurred. Her throat burned with the absence of Sunfire. With Eldrin's fading kiss.

  With the heartbeat she carried inside her.

  "I only needed fresh air, Aedric," she whispered, managing a single step closer. She risked a small, reassuring smile, trying to summon the Queen's poise. "The room felt stifling. I grew faint and went to the garden, but I must have walked too far into the woods and lost my way. Thank the gods Varin found me."

  Aedric's gaze finally flicked past her, settling on his Captain. He didn't ask Varin for confirmation. He simply read the grim, coiled certainty in the guard's posture.

  "You fainted?" Aedric asked, turning his attention back to Maria, his voice losing its softness, growing heavy with doubt.

  "Why, Maria? Why would you walk out alone in the middle of the night? Were you ill? Did you feel the need to be... to be alone in your sadness?"

  Maria knew this was her chance to plead grief, to cling to the lie. But Varin was directly behind her.

  He leaned in, forehead nearly touching hers.

  "I lost a child yesterday," he whispered. "Or I thought I did. And I held you in my arms while breaking apart and now you vanish into the night and return to me like a ghost."

  His voice faltered.

  "Don't make me fear losing you too."

  Maria closed her eyes. Her breath trembled.

  For a heartbeat, she wanted to collapse into him, to sob, to tell him everything.

  But she couldn't. She opened her eyes, meeting the wounded storm inside his.

  "I'm here now," she murmured softly. "That is all that matters."

  Aedric stared at her searching, pleading for a truth she couldn't give.

  Varin cleared his throat stiffly. "Your Majesty, with respect... the Queen should be examined. Her condition is not—"

  Aedric cut him off sharply. "The Queen is not your concern."

  But Varin didn't lower his gaze.

  "Her unexplained presence in the forest is my concern," he said. "And her condition."

  The air thickened. Aedric turned slowly to Maria, voice low. "We will speak inside." Maria nodded weakly. But as she took a single step forward, her vision blackened at the edges. Her knees buckled. Aedric lunged, catching her before she hit the ground.

  "Maria!" His voice broke raw, terrified. Her head fell against his chest, breath shallow, body fragile in his arms.

  Aedric gathered her close, holding her as though she were glass and the world intended to break her.

  Maria felt her new mortal body betray her. She swayed, the dizziness overwhelming the final barrier of her strength. She couldn't hold the rigid posture anymore. Her knees buckled.

  Aedric moved instinctively, his arms catching her just before she hit the stones. The feeling of his strong, warm hands around her was overwhelming, but the contact brought no comfort—only the sharp, terrifying realization of her vulnerability.

  He held her close, but even that embrace was filled with suspicion. He didn't feel the familiar, slight warmth of her Sunfire. She felt like a delicate, breakable object in his arms.

  Aedric lifted her easily, his eyes searching hers, demanding a truth she could never give. The fear had begun to curdle into cold suspicion.