Reign of Ash and Blossom Ch. 3

Chapter 3 – The Queen’s Claim

Kael woke to the scent of blossoms. Not the faint trace of a garden carried on the wind, but the heavy, clinging perfume of a thousand blooms crowding the air. It coated his lungs, filled his thoughts, made the world soft at the edges.

The ceiling above him was carved from polished wood, inlaid with silver vines that caught the flicker of a fire nearby. Curtains of pale silk swayed on some unfelt breeze, their movement slow, hypnotic. The sound of distant voices – muted, almost musical – wove with faint rhythm of drums.

He was not in Eldoria.

His armour was gone. In its place, a dark tunic hung loose against him, bound at the waist by a silver sash. His sword was nowhere in sight.

And then he heard her.

“Kael Voss,” Selvara’s voice came like the warm breath of the garden itself, curling around his name. “You look well… for a man who has lost everything.”

She stepped into view from behind the curtains, her gown flowing like midnight water, the silver of her hair catching the firelight. She moved without sound, as if the ground bent willingly beneath her feet.

Kael pushed himself up from the bed. “Where am I?”

“In my care,” she said simply, crossing the space between them. “Where you belong.”

He stood, though the air seemed thicker here, every movement slower than it should be. “You’ve taken Eldoria.”

Her lips curved faintly. “No, Kael. I’ve claimed it. There is a difference. One destroys. The other… preserves.” She reached up, brushing an invisible fleck of ash from his shoulder. “And I will preserve you.”

“I don’t – “He faltered.

Her hand lingered at his jaw, tilting his face toward hers. “Don’t lie to me, Captain. Not here. The gardens truth runs through your blood now. I see the war in you, and I will not allow you to fight it.”

Kael opened his mouth to speak, but her eyes caught his, and the words slipped away.

He lies before me now, unarmoured in every way that matters. Even in defiance he is beautiful – a man forged for oaths and crowns, now standing in the glow of my blossoms. I have no need for chains. Desire is a finer bond, and it holes without rusting.

I let the thought of her cross his mind sometimes – his wife, the one who waits beyond the ashes. I let it ache in him…and then I silence it with my touch, my voice. Grief is a stubborn thing, but hunger is stronger when I am near.

When the world sees him now, they see my will in his hands. My enemies call it magic. Let them. It is simpler than that – it is patience, and knowing which part of a man to claim first. His blade is mine. His loyalty is mine. And in time, his heart will be too.

Kael’s breath was shallow when her whisper ended. He had not realized he’d moved closer to her until the silk of her sleeve brushed his fingers. His sword hand trembled, empty reaching not for steel but for her.

“You will ride with me,” Selvara said, her tone more command than request. “There are other thrones to bring into bloom.”

She closed the space between them, the faint glow of blossoms haloing her as though the garden itself bent to crown her. Her hand rose, brushing the line of his jaw with a gentleness at odds with the fire in his eyes.

“Rest,” she murmured, and the word itself pressed into his bones.

He should have resisted. His oath, his wife’s face, the kings command – they should have risen in him like shields. But they were drowned beneath the weight of her gaze, smothered by the perfume of the garden. The world narrowed until there was only Selvara.

Her fingers closed over his hand, cool and sure. Something passed between them – not warmth, but a shiver like lightning under the skin. A petal drifted down from nowhere, landing in his open palm. Her hand folded his fingers around it.

A seal. A bond. A chain.

The chamber was silent but for the sound of his breathing. She leaned close enough that he could feel her words brush his ear. “You are mine, Kael Voss. And through you, the world will be mine.”

With that, the air between them burned with desire – not the tenderness of love, but the hunger for power and fire. She was a mistress of command, her voice shaping his every movement, bending him to her will. Selvara knew his weakness and pressed upon it, taking pleasure in the sway, she held over his body and soul – weaving the spell tighter with every breath, every heartbeat, every surrender that made him hers.

He was hers – her sensual puppet – and she reveled not only in the closeness of the moment but in the deeper ecstasy: that she alone could unlock this hunger in him, and that every breath of his surrender was hers to claim.

When Kael woke again, the dawn was pale and strange. The scent of blossoms lingered, heavy and clinging, as though the night before had never ended.

Selvara stood at the window, her silhouette cut sharp against the light - a vision still veiled in silk and shadow from the night before.

But she wore armour now: silver worked like flowing glass; petals carved into every plate. In her hand was a circlet of dark metal shaped like a blooming flower. She turned as he stirred. “Come, Captain. Eldoria is ash, and its crown lies in the dirt. But with you beside me, we will sow something new.”

Kael rose. His body obeyed before his mind could speak. His armour, blackened and reforged, waited at the foot of the bed. He donned it piece by piece, the silver blossom sigil gleaming where his own crest once had been.

When he met her in the courtyard, the city lay in ruin behind them. Smoke curled against the morning sky, and the banners of Eldoria, hung in tatters.

Selvara mounted a white steed armoured in silver and shadow. She extended a hand to Kael. “Ride with me.”

His gauntlet closed over hers.

The drums thundered. The gates opened.

And together they rode out, queen and captain, the world before them trembling beneath the reign of ash and bloom.