Page 82 of House Ignis

"The prize is no small honor. A guaranteed place in the Astral Guard."

The name alone carried weight. The strongest warriors on the continent. Elite. Untouchable.

"The ambitious," he said quietly, "will see you as their greatest threat." His jaw tightened. "Or their ticket to glory."

I swallowed hard, the implications sinking in like lead.

"You already have enemies," he went on, his voice turning colder. "You have made waves without even trying. Your power, your bloodline—your very presence disrupts the balance." His gaze sharpened. "There are nobles who would rather see you fall than rise. And assassins who would consider you a challenge worthy of legend."

My breath hitched. Beside me, Aether's claws scraped faintly against the polished stone, a restless, rhythmic sound.

"Heightened magic was not a coincidence," he said. "Whether it was reckless arrogance or calculated testing, someone pushed the limits in your presence." His expression remained carved from stone. "Which is precisely why this bond is necessary."

His eyes flicked briefly toward Asher. "He has already proven himself loyal. Proven he will protect you—before any oath was even demanded."

Silas ran a hand down his beard, still processing the sheer scale of the shift.

"The blood ceremony will take place tonight," my father said, turning toward him with absolute finality. "At the Temple of Ignis."

The words settled into the room like a decree written in flame. Tonight. My heart pounded so violently I thought they might actually hear it echoing off the marble.

The Temple of Ignis. Sacred fire.

I turned slowly toward Asher. He didn't look triumphant, and he didn't look smug. He looked ready. That terrified me more than anything else.

"You will choose each of two witnesses," my father continued, his voice edged like tempered steel. "It will be officiated by a human from the Tower. No exceptions."

My stomach twisted. Gods. This wasn't a proposal anymore; it was a royal decree. It would be sealed in divine flame and blood.

"Oh gods," I whispered, the gravity of it pulling at my lungs. "I can't believe this is happening."

"You are dismissed," my father said simply, as if he hadn't just rearranged the entire architecture of my life.

That was it. No more debate. No more negotiation.

We turned toward the door, my legs moving on pure instinct. Shadows flared faintly at my heels. My hands trembled at my sides, heat simmering just beneath my skin. Just as I reached the threshold—

"Ava."

I stopped and turned. My father stood differently now. Not as a king, not as a strategist, but as a man who had already buried one child and refused to bury another. His eyes met mine—green, like Jax's. They weren't unreadable anymore; they were just desperately restrained.

"Do not see this as a weakness," he said quietly. The words struck deeper than any command he'd ever given. "See it as a strategy." He paused. "You will not look like a frightened heir."

His voice softened—just enough to fracture something in my chest. "You will look like a queen who knows how to play the game." Then, with the weight of the gods behind him, he added, "Even Veyros tips the coin for those who dare."

Fire and fate. Choice and chance.

I held his gaze for one long, searing breath. Then, I nodded once.

CHAPTER TEN

I practically flew down the spiral staircase of the west tower, each boot step echoing with a jagged, white-hot fury. My breath came fast, searing my lungs, and the air around me distorted with the rising heat of my Core.

Aether stalked at my side, his tail lashing like a whip, heat radiating from his black fur in visible, shimmering waves.

Behind me, Asher's boots struck the stone with a rhythmic, infuriating calm. His shadows trailed mine on the floor, bleeding into my own as if they belonged there. As if he already had a right to my back.

Fuck no.