Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~11 min read
A week into her captivity, Ember met the others.
She’d known there were mortal servants in the Fire Court—Lark had told her as much. But she hadn’t understood the scope until Lark led her through a series of back corridors to a small courtyard hidden deep in the palace.
Five mortals sat there, ranging in age from late teens to middle-aged. They looked up as Ember entered, and she saw the same wariness in their eyes that she’d felt when she first arrived.
“Everyone,” Lark said gently, “this is Ember. She’s the prince’s newest… guest.”
The mortals exchanged glances. A young man with dark hair spoke first.
“Is she like us?”
“She is,” Lark confirmed.
The tension broke. The mortals relaxed, some even smiling.
“Thank gods,” a woman about Ember’s age said. “We were worried when we heard he’d bought someone at market again. Thought maybe he was going back to the old ways.”
“Old ways?” Ember asked.
Lark gestured for Ember to sit. “These are all mortals Blaze freed. They chose to stay and help with the work.”
The dark-haired young man extended a hand. “I’m Marcus. Blaze bought me three years ago. I was supposed to be executed for stealing bread. Instead, he gave me a home.”
“Sarah,” the young woman offered. “Two years. My village sold me to pay taxes. Blaze freed me within a month, but I stayed. Someone has to help with the others.”
One by one, they introduced themselves. Marcus, Sarah, Thomas, Elena, and James. All freed. All choosing to stay.
“Why?” Ember asked. “If you’re free, why risk staying in the Fire Court?”
Thomas—older, with gray in his beard—answered. “Because we’re not just free. We’re part of something bigger. Every mortal Blaze buys is another life saved. We help make that possible.”
“How?”
“Logistics,” Sarah said. “We help stage the deaths, create false trails, arrange transport to the mortal realm. Phoenix does the magical heavy lifting, but we handle everything else.”
Marcus leaned forward. “We also gather intelligence. Listen to court gossip. Warn Blaze if someone’s getting suspicious.”
“It’s dangerous,” Elena added quietly. “If we’re discovered, we’ll die with him. But it’s worth it.”
Ember looked around at their faces. They weren’t trapped here. They’d chosen this. Chosen to risk everything to help save others.
“He must be worth it,” she said. “To inspire this kind of loyalty.”
“He saved our lives,” Lark said simply. “Most of us had no families to return to. The Fire Court became our home. And Blaze became…” She paused, searching for words. “He’s not a prince to us. He’s family.”
Something in Ember’s chest twisted. These people loved him. The real him, not the mask.
“Does he know you feel this way?” she asked.
“Probably not,” Thomas said with a wry smile. “He’s too busy hating himself to see that we’re grateful.”
“He thinks he’s a coward,” Marcus added. “For not ending the mortal slavery himself. For working within the system instead of burning it down.”
Sarah shook her head. “But if he tried to burn it down, he’d die. And then who would save anyone?”
They all nodded, a shared understanding passing between them.
“We’re telling you this,” Lark said to Ember, “because you’re going to be freed too. In a few weeks, Blaze will stage your death and send you away with gold and papers and a new life.”
“I know. He told me.”
“But we want you to know the truth,” Lark continued. “Whatever you’ve seen in public, whatever performance he’s put on—the real Blaze is the one who cries in private over the mortals he can’t save. The one who gives us choice and freedom and hope.”
“The one who’s slowly breaking under the weight of the lie,” Thomas added quietly. “He’s been doing this for fifty years. It’s killing him.”
Ember thought of Blaze’s exhausted eyes. His careful distance. The way he apologized in dreams for cruelties he was forced to perform.
“He needs someone,” Elena said softly. “Someone who sees the real him. Someone who could share the burden.”
The weight of their gazes made Ember’s skin prickle.
“I’m leaving in a few weeks,” she said. “I can’t be that person.”
“Can’t?” Sarah asked. “Or won’t?”
Before Ember could answer, a pulse of heat washed through the courtyard.
Magic. Powerful magic.
All the mortals tensed.
“Phoenix,” Lark said, relief in her voice.
A male fae materialized from shadows, tall and elegant with flames dancing along his skin. He looked at the gathered mortals with warm eyes—so different from the other fae Ember had encountered.
“Lark,” he greeted. Then his gaze landed on Ember. “Ah. The new one. Ember, yes?”
“Yes.” She stood, unsure whether to curtsy or run.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” Phoenix moved closer, studying her with unnerving intensity. “Though I am curious. You’re different from the others.”
“How so?”
Phoenix glanced at Lark, some silent communication passing between them. “You’re bonded to him.”
Ember’s blood froze. “I don’t—”
“Don’t bother denying it. I can see magical bonds.” Phoenix’s expression was sympathetic. “A mate bond, specifically. Partially formed but not accepted.”
The courtyard fell into shocked silence.
“Mate bond?” Marcus breathed. “With Blaze?”
“They can’t—that’s forbidden—” Sarah started.
“Which is why it’s a problem,” Phoenix said grimly. He looked at Ember. “Does he know you’re aware of it?”
“Yes. We’ve discussed it.”
“And?”
“And we’re ignoring it. I’ll leave in a few weeks, and it will fade.”
Phoenix’s expression said he didn’t believe that for a second. “Ember, mate bonds don’t just ‘fade.’ Especially not fae-mortal bonds. They’re rare for a reason—when they form, they’re nearly impossible to break without killing both parties.”
“Blaze said—”
“Blaze is hoping for a miracle that won’t happen.” Phoenix sighed. “Look, I’ve known him for two centuries. He’s the most stubborn, self-sacrificing idiot I’ve ever met. If he’s told you the bond will fade, it’s because he’s trying to protect you. But he’s wrong.”
Ember’s chest tightened. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you have a real choice ahead of you. Accept the bond and stay—become immortal, bound to him forever. Or reject it and probably kill you both.”
“That’s not a choice. That’s a death sentence.”
“Or,” Phoenix said carefully, “it’s a chance at something real. Something Blaze has never had. Someone who sees him as he actually is.”
“I barely know him.”
“You know the truth. That’s more than anyone else in this court knows.” Phoenix’s voice gentled. “I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m just saying—don’t dismiss the bond because you think it’s the noble thing to do. Blaze has spent three centuries being noble. It’s made him miserable.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever you choose. But choose honestly. Don’t martyr yourself for his sake—he’s got enough guilt without adding yours to it.”
With that cryptic advice, Phoenix vanished in a swirl of flame.
The mortals stared at Ember with new understanding—and new concern.
“A mate bond,” Marcus said slowly. “That explains why he paid so much for you.”
“He didn’t know until after,” Ember protested.
“The bond knew,” Lark said quietly. “Magic always knows before we do.”
Ember sank back down, mind reeling. “This is impossible.”
“Welcome to life with fae,” Thomas said dryly. “Impossible is just Tuesday.”
Despite everything, Ember laughed. It was short and slightly hysterical, but it was real.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“You mean what do you do,” Sarah corrected gently. “This is your choice, Ember.”
“Some choice. Bind myself to him forever or kill us both.”
“Or find a third option,” Elena suggested. “There’s always a third option. You just have to be brave enough to look for it.”
Marcus nodded. “Blaze has been looking for loopholes in fae law for fifty years. If anyone can find a way to make this work, it’s him.”
“And you,” Lark added. “He said you’re educated. Smart. Maybe you’ll see something he’s missed.”
Ember looked around at these mortals who’d chosen to stay in the Fire Court. Who’d chosen danger and purpose over safety and freedom.
Could she do the same?
Did she even want to?
“I need to think,” she said finally.
“Take your time,” Lark said. “But not too much time. The court is already starting to whisper about you. How long you’ve survived. How different you are from the others.”
“Different how?”
“You don’t look broken enough,” Thomas said bluntly. “You’re playing the part, but there’s still fire in your eyes. The court notices.”
“Blaze noticed too,” Sarah added. “He’s been… careful with you. More careful than usual.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s telling.” Lark stood. “Come on. We should get you back before someone wonders where you are. The prince doesn’t usually let his ‘captives’ wander freely.”
Ember followed Lark back through the corridors, her mind churning.
A mate bond that wouldn’t fade. A choice that felt impossible. And a court that was starting to notice cracks in the performance.
Time was running out.
And Ember still had no idea what she actually wanted.
That night, Blaze summoned her to his study again.
She went, heart pounding, wondering if he somehow knew about her conversation with the others.
He stood by his desk, expression unreadable. “We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The Winter Court is visiting tomorrow. Including Princess Kestrel.”
Ember’s blood chilled. She’d heard about Kestrel—the Winter Court princess who suspected Blaze’s deception.
“What does she want?”
“To test my cruelty.” His jaw tightened. “She’s asked for a demonstration. Public proof that you’re truly broken.”
“What kind of demonstration?”
Blaze’s expression was anguished. “The kind that will hurt, Ember. Really hurt. Even with Phoenix’s illusions, there will be pain. I’ve been putting her off, but she’s insistent.”
“How much pain?”
“Enough to convince her. Enough that you’ll scream.” He moved closer, and she saw the guilt in his eyes. “I will understand if you want to run. If you want me to smuggle you out now, consequences be damned.”
Ember’s first instinct was to say yes. To run while she could.
But she thought of Marcus and Sarah and Thomas and Elena and James. All the mortals who’d chosen to stay. Who’d chosen purpose over safety.
And she thought of Blaze, carrying this burden alone for fifty years.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked.
His eyes widened. “Ember—”
“I’m not running. Not yet.” She lifted her chin. “Whatever this demonstration is, we’ll get through it. Together.”
“You don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”
“Then tell me.”
He did.
The demonstration would be a public whipping. Phoenix would create illusions to make it look brutal while minimizing actual pain. But Kestrel would be watching closely. It had to be convincing.
And Ember’s blood turned to ice.
“I’ll be there,” Blaze said quietly, seeing her fear. “Every second. If it becomes too much—if the illusion falters—I’ll end it. Consequences be damned.”
Ember’s hands shook. “I’m scared.”
“You should be. I’m terrified too.”
“But you’ll be there?”
“Every second.” He reached out, then stopped himself. The bond pulsed between them, wanting connection. “Can I… may I hold your hand? Just for a moment?”
It was dangerous. Touching strengthened the bond. But Ember needed it.
She took his hand.
The bond flared, warm and comforting. Through it, she felt his fear matching hers. His determination to protect her. His absolute certainty that he’d burn the world before he let her be truly harmed.
“I see you,” she whispered. “The real you. Not the mask. And you’re not a monster.”
His grip tightened. “You’re the only person who’s ever believed that.”
“Then I’ll keep believing it. For both of us.”
They stayed like that, hands clasped, drawing strength from each other. The bond wrapped around them like a shield.
And Ember realized: she wasn’t just trusting him anymore. She was beginning to care for him. Deeply.
But she didn’t take back her words.
Because sometimes, the bravest thing you could do was stand and face the fire.
Even if it burned.
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