Chapter 6: The Gilded Rebirth

The silk of the royal tunic felt like grease against my skin. It was too soft. Too smooth. I missed the itchy wool of my old, oversized suits—the fabric that had been my camouflage for twenty-one years. Now, in the penthouse of the Navia Tower, there was nowhere to hide.

"Hold still, Your Majesty."

The doctor, a man who smelled of latex and antiseptic, pressed a sensor against my neck. I didn't flinch. I was used to being a pin-cushion. Malrec had spent my childhood draining me; now the "liberators" were doing the same thing.

"The nanotech count in your blood is finally stabilizing," the doctor muttered, eyes glued to a tablet. "It’s incredible. The way your cells just... eat the virus. You’re a walking gold mine, Aradaa."

"I’m a person," I snapped. My voice sounded hollow in the vast, marble room.

I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the city was a graveyard trying to wake up. Black armored Dreadfang trucks patrolled the streets, their engines a constant, low growl. My people—the humans—didn't look liberated. They looked terrified. They hurried across intersections with their heads down, avoiding the gaze of the "Beast" soldiers who stood on every corner like statues of granite and muscle.

"We’re done for today," I said, ripping the sensor off my skin.

"But the King ordered—"

"The King isn't the one being bled," I cut him off, grabbing my jacket.

I didn't head to the royal quarters. Those rooms were filled with gold leaf and memories of Malrec’s fake smiles. Instead, I took the back elevators to the security wing. Kaelor’s wing.

I found him in the strategy room, his back to me. He was staring at a holographic map of the city. He wasn't wearing a crown. He wore a tactical vest, his arms crossed over a chest broad enough to block out the sun.

"They're calling for blood, Aradaa," Kaelor said without turning. His voice was a low rumble that I felt in my teeth. "The Human Purist factions are rioting in the third district. They think I’ve got you in a cage. That I’ve brainwashed their savior."

"Do you?" I asked, stepping into the room.

Kaelor turned. The amber in his eyes flared—a flash of that possessive heat that always made my pulse skip. He walked toward me, his boots heavy on the metal floor. He didn't stop until he was inches away. His scent—raw cedar and smoke—overwhelmed the sterile smell of the tower.

"If I wanted you in a cage, I wouldn't have given you a gun," he whispered, his hand settling on the back of my neck.

I leaned into his touch despite myself. "The merger address is in an hour, Kaelor. If we don't convince them tonight that we're a team, this city is going to burn."

The stage was set in the grand plaza. Thousands of people packed the square, a sea of pale faces and anxious eyes. The air was thick with the smell of rain and old resentment.

Kaelor stood behind me, a silent, hulking shadow. To me, he was grounding. To the crowd, he looked like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Look at him," a voice hissed from the front row. "The beast has our Prince on a leash."

The teleprompter started scrolling. The formal merger of the Navia and Dreadfang territories represents a strategic alignment...

I looked at the script. It was garbage. It was clinical—the way Malrec used to speak. I looked at the crowd instead. I saw a woman holding a child. Both of them were thin, their clothes little more than rags. I saw an old man with the gray scars of the virus still marking his throat.

I stepped away from the podium.

"Aradaa?" Kaelor’s voice was a low warning behind me.

"We were lied to," I said. My voice projected through the speakers, echoing off the skyscrapers. "For a hundred years, the Syndicate told us the 'Goddess’s Breath' was a curse. They told us the Beast Clans were the cause. They kept us in fear so they could keep us in chains."

The crowd went silent. Even the Dreadfang guards stopped moving.

"I spent my life hiding in the shadows of this tower," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "I felt the same hunger you felt. I felt the same loss. My mother didn't die of a virus. She was murdered by the man who called himself our leader because she tried to save me from him."

A murmur rippled through the square. It wasn't anger—it was recognition.

"Kaelor Dreadfang didn't kidnap me," I said, glancing back at the man who should have been my executioner. "He gave me the truth. We aren't two species at war. We are two survivors of the same lie."

For a heartbeat, I thought I had them. The tension in the air softened.

Then, I saw it.

A tiny, dancing red dot. It wasn't on my chest. It was centered right over Kaelor’s heart.

"Kaelor, move!" I screamed.

Time slowed down. I didn't think. I didn't reach for my weapon. I reached for the city. I felt the dormant nanotech in the plaza’s security grid—the tiny machines waiting for a command.

Burn.

I sent a mental pulse toward the rooftop across the square. The electronic scope of the sniper’s rifle didn't just malfunction; it exploded. A flash of blue sparks lit up the roof, followed by a muffled cry of pain.

"Assassin!" a guard yelled.

The plaza erupted. Dreadfang soldiers surged forward, claws extending. Human civilians screamed, trampling each other to escape.

"Get him!" Kaelor roared, pointing toward the roof.

Minutes later, a man was dragged onto the stage, his face bloodied and his hands bound. My heart stopped when I saw him.

"General Harlen?" I whispered.

It was the man who had trained me as a boy. My personal guard. The only man in the Syndicate I had actually trusted.

"Aradaa," Harlen wheezed, looking at me with eyes full of fanaticism. "I was saving you. I was going to kill the monster and bring you home."

"Home is gone, Harlen," I said, stepping toward him. "Why would you do this?"

"The Vestige," Harlen spat the name. "The old world order won't fall because of a few blue sparks. We know what you are, boy. And we know you're being held captive by this... thing."

He gestured at Kaelor with pure disgust.

"I’m not a prisoner," I snapped.

"That's what the brainwashed always say," Harlen laughed, a wet, hacking sound.

Suddenly, Kaerith appeared at the edge of the stage, her face pale. She pushed through the guards, her eyes fixed on me.

"Aradaa," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I saw him. In my head. Before the shot."

"What are you talking about?"

"The dreams. The other one," she said, her grip on my arm like a vise. "The humming in the ground. It’s not just us, Aradaa. There’s another Pure-Blood. I felt them... they were guiding the sniper’s hand."

"Execute him."

Kaelor’s voice was like a slamming door. We were back in the strategy room, the doors locked. General Harlen was in the basement, waiting for his sentence.

"No," I said, slamming my hand on the table. "We are not Malrec. We don't just kill people because they’re a threat. We give him a trial. We show the people we have laws."

"Laws are for peaceful times, Aradaa!" Kaelor roared, stepping into my space. He was vibrating with a frustrated, primal energy. "He tried to take my life. He tried to take you. In my world, that’s a death sentence. End of story."

"Well, this isn't just your world anymore!" I yelled back. "You want to be a King? Then act like one, not a butcher!"

Kaelor grabbed my waist, pulling me flush against him. His breath was hot against my neck, his amber eyes dark with a mixture of rage and something far more dangerous. "I am a butcher when it comes to protecting what’s mine. I won't apologize for that."

"I’m not an object, Kaelor!"

"Then stop acting like a martyr!"

He kissed me then—a bruising, desperate collision that tasted of salt and adrenaline. It wasn't a reconciliation; it was a battle. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer even as my mind screamed that we were drifting apart. Our biological bond hummed, a deep vibration that drowned out the world.

Later, as I lay in the dark of Kaelor’s bed, the silence felt heavy. Kaelor was asleep beside me, his steady breathing the only sound in the room.