The banquet hall was filled with the hum of polite conversation, the clinking of fine china, and the soft notes of a string quartet playing in the corner. But all Amina could hear was the steady pounding of her own heart, the flickering heat beneath her skin.
The ceremony had ended in a blur. Her engagement to Prince Aric had been sealed with a simple vow and a shared glance—one that seemed to linger just a moment too long, yet said nothing at all. The courtiers had congratulated them, but the weight of the moment had not yet fully settled on her. For the first time, Amina was aware of the fact that her future was not just uncertain—it was tethered to someone else's fate.
As she walked through the hall, her thoughts were consumed by the strange heat in her chest, the fire that burned brighter every time she was near Aric. It must be my nerves, she told herself. That's all it is.
But deep down, she knew that wasn't the whole truth.
She paused by a window, gazing out at the distant horizon. The flames from the torches lining the palace walls flickered in the night breeze, their shadows stretching long and thin across the courtyard. Amina could feel it again—the pull of the magic, the flicker of fire that seemed to rise from within her.
"Lady Amina, you look like you've seen a ghost."
Amina turned sharply, her hand instinctively resting against her chest. The voice was familiar—calm, composed, yet full of curiosity. Prince Aric stood just a few paces behind her, his eyes scanning her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.
"I was merely admiring the view," she said, turning slightly away, trying to regain her composure.
Aric stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her. "I suspect there's more to it than that. You seemed distant during the ceremony. Not your usual self."
Amina's heart skipped a beat. Was he already beginning to see through her carefully constructed facade? She had to be careful. She couldn't let him see her struggle—especially not now, when everything seemed so fragile.
"I'm fine," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "Just a bit overwhelmed, I suppose."
The prince studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. But he didn't press further. Instead, he gave her a small, knowing smile. "It's a lot to take in. The fate of two kingdoms resting on our shoulders. I can't imagine the pressure you must feel."
Amina met his gaze, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, she saw a side of him that was far from the polished, distant prince she had imagined. There was something raw beneath the surface—something she hadn't expected.
"I... I never asked for any of this," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't respond at first, as though considering her words. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again. "None of us do. But sometimes, fate doesn't give us a choice."
Amina looked away, her eyes flickering to the flames outside. The words struck something deep within her. Fate.
Her fingers trembled, and suddenly, the heat returned—stronger this time, pulsing through her veins like fire itself. She clenched her fists at her sides, trying to control it, but the magic was unpredictable, wild. She could feel it thrumming beneath her skin, responding to the prince's presence.
"Amina?" Aric's voice broke through the haze of her thoughts.
Before she could stop herself, a small ember flared in the palm of her hand, glowing a faint red. The heat was intense, but it didn't burn her. Instead, it seemed to seek something—something deep within her.
Amina gasped and quickly pulled her hand away, but the ember flickered for a moment before it vanished, leaving her staring at her own trembling fingers.
"What—what was that?" she whispered, her breath coming faster.
Aric's expression shifted to one of concern, though his eyes held an unreadable depth. He stepped forward, his voice low. "I don't know, but I've seen that look before."
Amina's heart skipped again, but she didn't speak, too afraid of what she might reveal.
"I've heard whispers," Aric continued, his tone serious. "Whispers of magic, ancient powers hidden within certain bloodlines. Your family's bloodline, Amina... it's said to be tied to an old flame—a fire that once consumed kingdoms."
Her pulse quickened. How could he know?
"You—you don't understand," Amina stammered, her mind racing. "This... this isn't supposed to happen. It's not—"
"Control is key," Aric interrupted softly, his gaze now focused intently on her. "I can help you."
Amina shook her head, the words catching in her throat. She had never been taught how to control it. No one had ever spoken to her about her powers in this way, not until now.
"I don't know how," she admitted, her voice trembling.
Aric reached out slowly, his hand hovering just above hers as though offering reassurance. "You don't have to know how. But you must learn, Amina. If that flame is real—and I believe it is—then it will consume you if left unchecked."
Amina met his eyes, feeling a storm of emotions swirling inside her. She had been told all her life that her powers were a blessing, but the truth felt different now. It felt dangerous.
"Can you help me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aric nodded, his expression serious but kind. "I will help you. But we'll need to be careful. There are those who would seek to control your power—use it for their own gain."
Amina swallowed hard, her gaze falling to her trembling hands. "What if I can't control it? What if it's too strong?"
"Then we'll find a way," Aric said, his voice unwavering. "Together."
Amina felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly overshadowed by the fear that gripped her heart. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for any of it. But there was no turning back now.
The flame had awakened, and there was no telling where it would lead.