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The Weight of Yes
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2026-01-15 23:38:32The warmth did not disappear at once.
It lingered beneath Alina’s fingertips even after she drew her hand away from the Ember Crown, like heat trapped in stone long after a fire has gone out. The ember-stone pulsed one final time, slow and deliberate, then fell still. The Crown lay quiet on the table, modest in size, almost unremarkable, as though it had not just unsettled the balance of a kingdom.
Alina stepped back.
Sound returned to the council chamber in fragments. A chair scraped against the floor. Someone inhaled sharply. A low murmur rose and spread along the walls like water disturbed by a thrown stone. No one spoke outright, yet the air filled with expectation.
Chancellor Elowen recovered first.
“We must act quickly,” she said, smoothing her sleeves as though order itself could be restored by composure. “A proclamation should be prepared at once. The people will expect reassurance.”
“No.”
The word left Alina before she could shape it into something gentler.
Every gaze swung toward her.
Her heart hammered, loud enough that she was certain someone must hear it. Still, she did not retreat. “No,” she said again, quieter but firmer. “Not yet.”
Elowen’s brows lifted. “Princess, the Crown responded to you.”
“It stirred,” Alina corrected. “It did not claim me.”
Lord Merrow leaned forward, fingers steepled. “With respect, Your Highness, the distinction is academic.”
“It is not,” Alina said. “It is everything.”
High Priestess Sera watched her closely, her eyes unreadable. King Roderic remained silent, his hands braced on the table as though steadying himself against a tide only he could feel.
“If the Crown responds to surrender,” Alina continued, “then spectacle will silence it again. I will not be paraded as proof of salvation.”
A hush fell.
“Would you deny the people hope?” Elowen asked.
“I would deny them a lie,” Alina replied.
The words surprised her with their steadiness. She had expected her voice to shake, expected fear to betray her. Instead, something quiet and immovable had taken root in her chest.
King Roderic straightened. “Enough. My daughter will not be rushed into a role we do not yet understand.”
The Chancellor’s smile thinned, but she did not argue.
“There is precedent,” Sera said calmly. “An old rite. A vigil.”
Alina frowned. “A vigil?”
“A night alone with the Crown,” Sera explained. “In the Chapel of Ash. No court. No counsel. Only truth.”
The word alone tightened Alina’s chest. Alone. With the Crown. With questions she was not certain she wanted answered.
“As much as any soul ever is,” Sera added gently, anticipating the fear.
“I will not leave her unguarded,” the King said at once.
“She will not be,” Sera replied. “Cael will stand watch outside the chapel doors.”
At the sound of his name, Alina’s gaze shifted toward the hearth.
Cael stood there in silence, posture disciplined, expression carefully neutral. He had not spoken since her arrival, yet his presence pressed on her awareness all the same, a reminder of things unresolved and words left unsaid.
“You will not enter unless summoned or danger presents itself,” the King told him.
“Yes, Sire,” Cael answered.
“You trust him?” Elowen asked coolly.
“I trust obedience,” the King replied.
The meeting dissolved soon after. Councillors gathered their papers, voices low and purposeful. No one met Alina’s eyes for long. She left the chamber with her thoughts crowding too close, her steps measured only by habit.
She stopped halfway up the stairwell, pressing her palm to the cool stone wall. The chill grounded her, gave her something solid to lean into.
She had said yes.
But yes to what, exactly?
Footsteps approached behind her.
Cael halted a few steps below.
“Your Highness,” he said.
“Don’t,” she replied softly. “Not here.”
He nodded. “Alina.”
Her name unsettled her more than the Crown had.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Because I was ordered to be,” he said. He continued, speaking more quietly, “And because the kingdom is dying.”
“You left,” she said.
“I was sent away.”
“You could have written.”
His gaze dropped. “I did not think you would want to hear from me.”
The truth of it stung. “You thought wrong.”
Silence filled the stairwell, heavy with all they did not dare speak. Regret. Anger. Loss. Things that had no place in a corridor but lived there all the same.
“You should eat,” Cael said at last.
A short, incredulous laugh escaped her. “Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Then perhaps you should listen.”
She nodded once. “Good night, Cael.”
“Good night.”
She remained there long after his footsteps faded, listening to the palace breathe around her.
Sundown was coming.
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