Yue-Senn Tokio Kageyama POV
The car door shut with a heavy thud, sealing out the roar of the Western capital’s rain.
Outside, the city was a neon-lit dream gold towers, floating bridges, and the hum of magic-fueled technology. It was beautiful. It was soft. It was everything the North was not.
Across from me, my uncle ripped open his dress shirt, cursing under his breath. His chest was a map of purple bruises and lightning-patterned burns where the Dragon Queen had struck him.
"You’re a lunatic, Tokio," he wheezed. "They could have ended us right there. That woman... she wasn’t fighting to defend; she was fighting to kill."
"But she didn’t," I said, looking out the tinted window. "And you survived. That makes the mission a success."
"What if they find out?" he hissed, leaning forward. "What if they realize I’m not the King? That your father is rotting in a coma while you play dress-up with his crown?"
I turned my head slowly, my eyes boring into his. "They won’t find out. Because by the time my father wakes up, if he wakes up, I will be the crowned King of the North, and I will have a Vhaelor standing beside me. No one will dare challenge the succession then."
My uncle went quiet. He knew I was right.
I looked down at the contract in my lap. It was still incomplete.
Ryophlira.
The way her white-and-red hair had spilled over her shoulders when she vaulted over that railing... she looked like a falling star. Reckless. Violent. Captivating.
"Stop the car," I said suddenly.
"What? We’re ten minutes from the Inn."
"I said stop."
The driver obeyed, the tires screeching against the wet pavement. I stepped out into the rain, ignoring my uncle’s protests.
The cold water hit my face, grounding me. I looked back at the sprawling palace on the hill. Somewhere in that maze of stone and silk was a girl who thought she had just negotiated her freedom.
She didn’t realize that in the North, we don’t negotiate for things we want. We hunt them.
I touched the bruise on my ribs, a small smirk playing on my lips. She wanted a King? I would give her one. But I would also give her a husband who would see every fire she set and hand her the torch to keep going.
"See you at six o’clock sharp, little flame," I whispered into the wind.
The hunt had officially begun.