The fire had burned low, the last embers casting a soft, trembling glow across the room. Maria stirred against Aedric, the lingering warmth of their closeness still clinging to them both. Their bodies were bare, limbs entwined beneath the heavy coverlets, the faint scent of skin and sweat and something fiercer, the aftermath of love hanging between them. His arm draped over her waist, her hand resting on the strong curve of his chest, fingers tracing the scars and lines she had come to memorize.

  She let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering open to meet his dark gaze. He smiled down at her, a quiet, private smile that made her chest ache.

  Suddenly, a loud, urgent pounding shattered the quiet.

  The heavy oak door to the outer chamber rattled violently, tearing them from sleep and intimacy in a single, brutal instant.

  Aedric was instantly awake, years of military training erasing the last hint of vulnerability. He snatched his heavy broadsword from the bedside stand, already moving to cover Maria.

  His first movement was purely protective: he threw the heavy linen from the bed over Maria, his gaze already locked on the door.

  "What in the hells?" he snarled, pulling on his tunic with practiced speed. The linen tunic covered the chest she had just been touching, a physical wall snapping back into place.

  The pounding came again, louder, followed by a voice hoarse with urgency and cold command.

  "My King! Open this door! It is Commander Varin! There is treason in your castle! It concerns—"

  He stopped abruptly. The voice softened, lower now, a tight whisper that carried only for those on the other side of the door.

  "Let's talk," Varin said, his tone razor sharp and controlled. "It's urgent, Your Grace. No one else must hear."

  Maria froze, the blood draining from her face, her pulse hammering in her ears. The terror was absolute. A cold, sinking certainty seized her gut: Varin knew. The fragile peace was not just threatened, it was over. She was exposed.

  Aedric's sword remained half raised, his gaze snapping from the door to her.

  He saw the naked, sudden terror on her face, and for the first time since their reconciliation, the doubt, sharp, cold, and lethal, returned to the gaze of the Iron Wolf. The question in his eyes was agonizing: why does the voice of my most loyal man bring you such despair?

  Aedric's hands moved quickly now, pulling a tunic from the stand. The intimacy of moments ago vanished as he dressed with precise, controlled speed, muscles tensed, eyes never leaving hers. Every movement was a preparation, a shield, a question: why is it visible in your eyes?

  He finally turned to the door, tunic secured, sword in hand, jaw tight, a predator's focus threading through the tenderness of their hours together. His gaze swept back to Maria once, lingering in a flash of longing and unspoken accusation, before the weight of command fully settled over him.

  He reached the heavy oak, throwing the bolts back with a resonant clang. He wrenched the door open just enough to see Varin, who stood pale and utterly grim, clutching a sealed document.

  Varin spoke immediately, his voice pitched low, ensuring it didn't carry down the corridor. "Your Grace, I apologize for the intrusion, but the matter is of the utmost secrecy and gravity. It cannot wait."

  Aedric's face was a stone mask. "What is it?"

  Varin nodded sharply, accepting the boundary instantly. "Understood, my King. It concerns state security and requires immediate, private counsel."

  "Then we will go to the private solar," Aedric commanded, his voice a low rumble of ice. He stepped out, closing the door firmly behind him, blocking Varin's view of the doorway entirely. "Wait for me in the War Room. I will follow, dressed."

  Varin bowed, relief flooding his face that the King was taking the charge seriously. "At once, Your Grace." He turned and moved down the corridor with urgent speed.

  Aedric watched him go, then stepped back into the chamber, shutting the door with silent finality. The room felt suddenly huge, the air thick and suffocating.

  Maria was off the bed, clutching the linen coverlet around her. Her face was bloodless, her eyes wide with desperate knowledge.

  Aedric did not look at her. He strode directly to his armoire, pulling out heavy boots, leather breeches, and his house cloak. Every movement was precise, controlled, and chillingly devoid of emotion. He was no longer the lover; he was the King preparing for war.

  He finished dressing in silence, the only sounds the rustle of his clothes and the frantic beating of Maria's heart. He armed himself completely, his focus entirely on the cold steel and the coming confrontation.

  Only when he was fully prepared, the Iron Wolf ready to face his greatest threat, did Aedric finally turn back to his wife.

  He looked at the woman who had shared his bed and his heart, and he saw only the cold terror that confirmed Varin's threat.

  "Well," he said, his voice flat and brutal "And let's hear what Varin has discovered."

  He did not wait for her answer. He simply opened the door and walked out, leaving Maria alone in the ruined quiet of their final peace.

  Aedric burst into the War Room, the door slamming shut behind him with a gunmetal echo. Varin stood alone by the central map table, pale, rigid, a brittle leather-bound tome clutched under one arm. The faint candlelight flickered across the maps, but it was powerless against the storm in Aedric's eyes.

  "Varin," he barked, voice low and lethal, "which of my lords dares commit treason? Speak." His hand hovered over his sword, the steel gleaming in the firelight.

  Varin did not flinch. He placed the ancient tome on the table, opening it with meticulous care. "Your Grace," he said evenly, though a tremor betrayed his fear, "the treason is not of men, but of sorcery. The traitor is your Queen."

  The words struck Aedric not like an accusation, but like a blade across his chest. He staggered back, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other tightening around the sword hilt. "You lie," he spat, voice sharp as iron. "Maria... the mother of my heirs... a traitor? You—" He stopped, struggling for air.

  Varin remained steady, though his own fear was visible in his eyes. "I wish it were a lie, Your Grace. But the physician, Elend, he was forced by the breaking of a spell to confess the truth. He discovered the anomaly months ago."

  Aedric's head snapped toward him, fury and disbelief burning in his dark eyes. "You speak in riddles! You bring tales from forgotten tomes and frightened men! Have you no shame, Varin?"

  "I have my shame," Varin said steadily, "and my duty. You must know the truth. Your wife... she hides the Sunfire magic. It is dangerous. Forbidden."

  Aedric's hand tightened around his sword until the knuckles whitened. He paced, the War Room suddenly too small for his rage. "Forbidden," he hissed, "the very word drips of poison! You would accuse her here, now, and expect me to bow to... superstition?" His lips trembled, a mixture of rage and disbelief. "I will not!"

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  Varin's eyes flicked to the king's hands, the sword, the raw, unfiltered anger. "Your Grace, the danger is real," he said softly. "The child... your daughter... Princess Liana... bears the same curse. Her heat, her eyes... it is the Sunfire. All inherited from the Queen."

  Aedric's eyes blazed. The fury of a betrayed husband collided with the memory of his dead brother. His sword slammed against the table, the sound cracking through the chamber. "Treason? Against the crown, against my bloodline? You dare—dare speak such words about her in my presence?"

  Varin held his ground, calm and unwavering. "I dare because it is my duty, Your Grace. If you do not act, the crown, your heirs, and this kingdom are at risk."

  Aedric staggered toward the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead as if to physically hold the truth at bay. His chest tightened. He could not breathe. The room tilted beneath him, maps and tomes blurring, until only the echo of Varin's words remained. "No... that cannot be..." His voice cracked, almost a whisper, disbelief biting at the edges of his mind.

  Varin leaned slightly closer, cautious, calculating. "I have verified it. The physician's account, the texts from the deepest archives, the records of Sareen Sunfire. Your daughter carries the forbidden magic, and your Queen concealed it."

  "No," Aedric whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I will not take the word of a man who fears his own shadow, nor the drawing of some long-dead monk. I demand physical proof. Bring me the physician. Now."

  Varin nodded sharply. The King was broken, but he was still following the law. "As you command, Your Grace." Varin opened the door and summoned Elend from the antechamber.

  The physician shambled in, terrified and clutching his gold. Aedric cornered him instantly, the sword still in his hand, his eyes burning with a desperate, final plea for contradiction.

  "Master Elend," Aedric commanded, his voice trembling with the effort to remain King. "On pain of death. Tell me, is this an error? Are the Princess and Queen afflicted by some mundane illness, or have you confirmed that my daughter....... my daughter is a witch?"

  "Yes, Your Grace. And and the Queen... she hid it. She used a spell, I believe, to make me forget until the foreign witch left the castle." Elend pointed a shaking finger at the sealed document Varin had placed on the map. "The Commander researched the archive. It is the Sareen Sunfire."

  Varin stepped forward, opening the sealed document, it was a brittle, leather-bound volume from the deepest library vaults. He pointed to a drawing and a description.

  Elend looked from Varin's stern face to Aedric's shattered expression, the weight of the crown crushing him. "Your Grace, the ancient texts confirm it. The Sunfire curse of Sareen manifests with unnatural heat, and in newborns, unnatural grey eyes and unnerving silence, traits already observed in Liana. The text states the curse cannot be carried by two, only one. Alaric is untouched. Liana holds the entirety of the forbidden magic, inherited from her mother, the Queen."

  Aedric stared at the text, then at the map, then at Varin. He was trapped in a whirlwind of absolute denial. He was shaking, the King entirely replaced by the husband who refused to believe the woman he loved was capable of such a deception.

  Varin met Aedric's eyes, fear and duty battling for dominance. "Maria is not just an ally, my King. She is a sorcerer who brought a curse into your royal bloodline, and she hid it from you, endangering the entire lineage. This is treason of the highest order."

  The room spun. The final, fragile thread of doubt snapped. The love was instantly buried, replaced by the King's terrible, cold fury. He looked from the terrified physician to the ancient, damning text, and finally to Varin, whose loyalty was absolute.

  Aedric did not look at Elend again. He did not look at the book. He looked only at Varin, his gaze colder than any winter in the North.

  "The curse cannot be carried by two, only one," Aedric repeated, the phrase echoing hollowly in the War Room. The confirmation that Alaric, his true Northern heir, was safe, was the only thing that allowed him to remain standing.

  He sheathed his sword with a harsh shick.

  "Varin. Take one dozen of the Black Guard. The most silent, most trusted men you have," Aedric commanded, his voice a flat, emotionless sheet of ice. "Go to the Queen's chamber. Do not harm her. Do not touch the children. Confine the Queen to the highest tower cell immediately. No contact. No warmth. Tell her nothing of why."

  He paused, the weight of the command crushing the memory of their last intimate hour.

  "You will bring her here first, Commander. You will bring her to me." Aedric's eyes closed briefly, a flash of pain too deep to name passing over his face. When he opened them, the King was back, and he was lethal. "I will inform her of her crime myself. Go."

  Varin bowed deeply, his expression solemn but satisfied. "As you command, Your Grace." He turned and moved instantly to execute the order.

  Varin bowed deeply, his expression solemn but satisfied. He turned and took two steps toward the door, eager to execute the order.

  "Varin, leave it," Aedric suddenly said, his voice flat but carrying the absolute authority of the crown. Varin froze, turning back to face his King. "I will go myself. Do not do anything. No Black Guard. No move. Wait here."

  Aedric ignored the surprise on Varin's face. He could not, in the end, send another man to put chains on the woman he had just loved. That final, devastating act belonged only to him.

  He strode past Varin without another word, his cloak billowing behind him, his pace fast and furious. He was no longer just the King; he was the executioner of his own heart.

  Maria was already dressed, not in her fine gowns, but in a plain woolen dress, the same one she wore the night her family came.

  She stood near the window, waiting. Her heart was a frantic drum, but her mind was fiercely clear. She had no magic of her own to fight a dozen Northmen. Her only weapon was the truth, and the hope that Aedric's love was stronger than his fear of sorcery. Maria wasn't certain if her secret was exposed or if it was one of his men who betrayed him, but she could only hope.

  The door to her chamber did not burst open violently. It was simply thrown open with immense, controlled force.

  Aedric stood there, alone, fully armed, his cloak dark, sharp as the chill wind outside. His gaze locked on her, black and merciless, the Iron Wolf returned in full. Every inch of his presence radiated accusation, disgust, and fury. He did not step forward. He did not speak. He simply radiated judgment.

  "Aedric," Maria whispered, voice trembling, fragile as spun glass.

  "Silence," he said, a low command that froze her blood

  He crossed the threshold at last, every step deliberate, lethal. He stopped a few feet from her, eyes dark fires, hand twitching at his side as if itching to strike.

  "Traitorous witch!" The words spat from him, venomous, sharp.

  The first slap landed like iron, tearing through the quiet of the room. Maria's head snapped, a sharp cry escaping her lips. Before she could recover, his hand shot up again. The second strike hit harder, fueled by years of fear and fury, driving her toward the edge of the hearth.

  Aedric did not move to catch her. He stood over her, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with devastating rage. He did not ask. He did not accuse. He simply stated the inevitable.

  Maria tasted blood, but the pain was distant. She had never expected this level of cruelty from him. Never imagined the man she had loved so fiercely could twist into this monstrous, merciless being. Her body shrank under him, instinctively recoiling from the heat in his eyes.

  "Aedric, please—listen to me!" she begged, tears starting to stream down her face, the words tasting like copper. "It is not a curse! It is life! I didn't choose this"

  Aedric reached out, not with tenderness, but with a horrifying, possessive violence, gripping a handful of her hair near her temple and yanking her face up to meet his. The rough tug forced a cry from her.

  "Life?" he snarled, his voice a low, disgust dripping from every syllable. "Life? You poisoned my bloodline! You brought the filth of sorcery into my legitimate heir! I shared my bed with a liar, a traitor, a viper who sought to ruin everything I built!"

  He threw her hair loose, releasing her so suddenly she stumbled.

  He shoved his hand into her hair again, holding her face up so she could see the loathing he felt. His dark eyes blazed with a fury she had never witnessed, a fury that stripped away all tenderness, leaving only raw, terrifying power.

  "Look at this room, Maria!" Aedric gestured wildly at the chamber, at the warmth of the hearth, at the cradle. "I gave you safety! I gave you trust! I gave you my heart! And you repaid me with this abomination! My daughter is tainted! My house is exposed! The North will see me as a weak fool led by a whore of fire!"

  Maria scrambled to keep her balance, focusing on the terrible cold in his eyes. "I love you! I chose you! I chose to keep the secret to keep this peace!"

  "Stop Talking Woman!" Aedric roared, the control finally snapping. He towered over her, utterly consumed by loathing. "I will never forgive this betrayal. Never. You are nothing to me but poison! You have hidden your power, your magic, your lies, in my bed, in my home, in my bloodline. And now... now my daughter... my daughter... is cursed because of you!"

  His breathing ragged with rage.

  "The peace is over, Maria. The sorcery ends now. You will come with me."

  Maria stopped begging. She looked at the man she had loved, the hatred consuming his eyes. her true power was gone, and she has given up her guardian leaving her nothing but her mortal self. Any resistance now would only confirm his deepest fears and risk the lives of her children. The pleading was useless; the King's judgement was sealed.

  "Aedric," she whispered, her voice raw enough to split the silence. She lifted her chin, meeting his merciless stare with a trembling but undeniable dignity. "Don't let your hatred blind you. I am the mother of your children."

  Aedric scoffed, the sound cold and dismissive. He took a quick, contemptuous step back, distancing himself from her supposed piety.

  "Blind?" he spat. "The only blindness here is yours, Maria, thinking you could hide behind motherhood and expect me to forget what you are."

  His gaze raked over her, slow, merciless, dripping with disgust.

  "Spare me the outrage, Maria. You knew exactly what kind of man you were marrying."

  His eyes dragged over her, mocking, unkind.

  "And your father practically begged for my hand," he finished, the words a blade disguised as a jest.

  When Torvin arrived with a guard she had never seen before, Maria didn't dare to utter another word.