The morning was too still.
No frost danced on the windows, no wind howled through the castle walls. The quiet wrapped around Aileen like a second skin—cold, thin, and uneasy. She stood by the window of her chambers, arms folded across her chest, eyes fixed on the endless white expanse that stretched beyond the palace walls. She hadn't slept. Her thoughts refused to rest.
And then she saw it.
A shadow against the pale sky. A dark flutter. A raven.
It cut cleanly through the frozen air and landed on her windowsill with unsettling precision. Aileen's breath hitched. Around its leg was a rolled piece of parchment, bound with a crimson ribbon and sealed with wax—the fire-shaped emblem pressed into it unmistakable.
Her fingers trembled as she untied the note, heart pounding against her ribs like a drum of war.
Aileen,
Father suspects something. I overheard him speaking with the War Council. His forces are moving sooner than we thought. You must act now—he knows you told someone.
Do not return. The roads are being watched. Stay in the Ice Kingdom. Trust Daniel. Trust no one else.
—Ezra
Aileen read it again. And again.
Her brother's handwriting was sharp and slanted, like it always had been. But now, even his script carried urgency. She pressed the letter against her chest, breath shuddering out of her. It was happening. War was closer than they'd thought.
She closed the window and stepped back, the cold bite of the stone floor grounding her. There was no time to hesitate.
She had to tell Daniel.
Later That Day — The War Room
The map of their joined kingdoms lay spread across the long table, weighted by goblets, scrolls, and blades. Flames crackled from the hearth, a rare warmth in the palace, but no one in the room felt it.
Daniel stood at the head of the table, flanked by two of his advisors. Aileen stood across from him, the letter in hand.
When she finished reading it aloud, silence fell. The kind that came before storms.
One of the older generals broke it first.
"We strike first. Torch the border and end this before it begins."
Another shook his head. "The Fire King is too clever. He'll see it coming. He'll have his people in place. And what of the innocents? What of the civilians loyal to the peace?"
The men argued. Back and forth. Strategies, risks, lines drawn. But Aileen watched only one face.
Daniel hadn't spoken.
He stood still, one hand braced on the edge of the table, his gaze dark and unreadable as he studied the map.
"Daniel," Aileen said gently.
He looked up, his eyes finding hers.
"If we strike without proof, without cause," she said, "we become no better than him. My father's trying to bait us. We can't give him what he wants."
Daniel's brow furrowed. He exhaled slowly, then nodded once.
"She's right," he said finally, cutting through the noise. "We hold. But we prepare."
The room settled. Slowly. Reluctantly. But Daniel's word was final.
Aileen let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
That Night — The Observatory
The stars shimmered faintly above, barely visible through the pale veil of frost clinging to the windows. Aileen found Daniel alone in the observatory, seated near one of the arched windows, the firelight flickering against his face. His usual sharpness had softened. He looked… tired.
He didn't look up when she entered.
"You should be resting," he said quietly, still gazing out.
"So should you."
She approached slowly, the letter still tucked into the folds of her cloak. She stood beside him, staring out at the darkness beyond.
"He's moving faster than we thought," she murmured. "I hoped we had more time."
Daniel didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened before he finally spoke.
"Your father's not a man who waits. He's always been calculating. Bold. You were brave to tell me what you did."
"It didn't feel brave," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It felt like betrayal. Of him. Of… my past."
Daniel turned to her then, really turned, his blue eyes searching hers.
"Loyalty isn't blindness," he said. "You chose peace. That's what makes you brave."
The words hit something deep in her chest. She hadn't cried. Not once. But now she felt her throat tighten.
"Do you believe we can stop him?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Before everything falls apart?"
Daniel was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly,
"I don't know what the future holds. But I believe in you. And I believe in us."
She blinked rapidly, then gave him a weak, grateful smile. Her hand brushed against his. He didn't move away.
"You don't have to carry it alone, Aileen," he added. "Not anymore."
She nodded, but didn't speak. Instead, she leaned ever so slightly toward him. Her shoulder met his. He didn't shift away.
They sat in silence, the kind that wrapped around them like a shield.
Together. Finally, undeniably… together.
.....
A tap at the window. Sharp. Rhythmic.
Another raven.
Daniel stood and crossed to the glass. The moment he opened it, cold wind swept in, scattering papers and chilling the firelight.
He pulled the message from the bird's leg. The seal—not Ezra's this time. The Fire King's.
Daniel opened it. Aileen watched his eyes scan the page, then narrow sharply.
"What is it?" she asked.
He handed it to her.
Aileen,
You will return to the Fire Kingdom by week's end. You will come alone. Or the next fire will not wait for your signal to burn.
Do not test me, darling, it pains me so to have to treat you harshly. I'll be waiting.
—Father
Aileen stared at the words, her fingers clenching around the parchment.
The stillness of the day was gone.
The storm had begun.