The palace didn't sleep.
Not anymore.
Not since the trial had been declared.
Not since the fire refused to burn her.
Whispers grew like roots in stone halls, quiet but unrelenting. Servants crossed themselves when Elara passed. Nobles nodded a little too stiffly. Some guards flinched. Others began to salute.
By the third day, the palace no longer looked through her.
It watched her.
M followed closely as they moved through the northern wing that has been long abandoned, the air heavy with mold and dust, tapestries eaten by time. The place smelled like forgotten secrets and scorched dreams.
"Tell me again why are we here," Elara whispered, voice echoing faintly against the cracked walls.
"Because not everyone in this palace bows to silver and silk," M murmured. "Some bow to fire. Or at least... the promise of it."
They reached a door bound in rusted chains.
M tapped the iron frame once.
Twice.
A pause.
Then the door creaked open.
Inside, torches flickered on cue, revealing five figures cloaked in shadow.
The Hidden Court.
Former lords. Disgraced nobles. One scholar Elara recognized from the library who had disappeared weeks ago. All of them stood with hands crossed over their hearts, a gesture she had only seen in illustrations of the ancient flame oaths.
The eldest among them stepped forward, a woman with silver-threaded braids and an eye patch sewn with gold thread.
"Flamebearer," she said. "The last time fire stirred like this, kingdoms fell."
"I didn't come to make kingdoms fall," Elara replied, voice steady. "I came because Ana almost died. Because someone wants me gone."
The woman nodded. "We know who. The poison came from a bottle last used in the siege of Narenth. The recipe... only three alchemists in the empire could still make it. One of them is the Empress's personal medic."
Elara's fists tightened. "Then why haven't you exposed them?"
"Because in this palace, truth is smoke," said another, younger man. "And smoke only matters if the wind agrees."
"Then change the wind," Elara said quietly.
The room fell silent.
The old woman raised her chin. "Swear your name to flame, and we'll stand with you. We'll begin... the Reclaiming."
Elara hesitated.
Behind her, M tensed.
"You don't have to do this now," he said, voice low. "Not yet. You still have time."
But Elara's eyes never left the flames.
"No, I don't."
She stepped forward, placed her hand over her heart, and spoke:
"I swear my name to flame. I will not rule for vengeance. I will not burn for wrath. I will be Sovereign for the silenced."
The torches roared.
The flames didn't flicker.
They bowed.
Back in her chambers, Elara stood before her window. M watched her in silence.
"You shouldn't have sworn that vow," he said. "Not without knowing what it means."
"I know exactly what it means," she replied. "It means I'm not hiding anymore."
M sighed. "Power reveals. And right now, everyone's watching."
Elara turned. "Then let them see me."
There was a pause.
Then M said, "Your mother took that same vow once."
Elara's breath caught. "She…?"
"She did. My father served her in the south. She was called Ember Sovereign before the throne turned on her."
"And the Empress?"
M's jaw tightened. "She led the betrayal."
Elara felt it like a weight on her ribs.
"She knew who I was. All this time."
"Yes," M said. "She always knew."
Elara's voice dropped. "Then the trial isn't a test. It's an ambush."
"No," M said. "It's your stage."
Hours later, Elara found a letter beneath her pillow. Fine parchment, no seal. Only two words written in precise, calligraphic ink:
" She fears you"