They stop in Cloud's room to make her presentable before seeing the queen. The air is bitter as they walk to their mother’s office. The castle staff fails to conceal their stares. Blaze can try and keep her family's affairs confidential, but eyes are everywhere. When you force your life onto a stage there is no privacy, not for you, not for your family. Standing before that foreboding office door, the royal family consists of actors. Who knows who they are beyond their carefully chiseled characters? Certainly not them.

Summer, smug, raps her knuckles on the door. "Mother, I found what you were looking for," she chimes, all singsong and victorious. Cloud rolls her eyes. She hasn't won anything. If this is a game, she's not a player—neither of them are. They're pieces, pawns for Blaze to throw into the fray. Has she really built Blaze into such a savior that she can't see it?

"Come in," Blaze orders. As Summer prances inside, Cloud trudges in behind her. Cloud has to hand it to her mother; Blaze looks genuinely concerned. Maybe Summer simply believes her when she puts on faces like that. Maybe it makes it easier.

"As promised," Summer gestures. Blaze rises from her chair and circles around her desk. Her hand rests on Summer's shoulder, and she doesn't flinch. They really live in two different worlds, don't they? 

"Indeed," Blaze commends. She does not thank her, doesn't praise her, doesn't even smile, but Cloud can see it now. She can clearly see the prideful glint in Summer's eyes. To her, that is praise. It's affirmation. Cloud wants to call it out, to convince Summer how messed up that is, but she doesn't want to kill that feeling of acceptance. Is it worse letting her continue to be contentedly strung along like this or to try and show her that she's just being used? "It's late, go rest," Blaze orders. Cloud jerks from her course of thought, mind rapidly switching streams. No, Cloud thinks, don't leave me alone! 

Summer smiles at her mother, looks at Cloud like Blaze's "approval" just proved some kind of point, and leaves. The door sounds behind Summer. The room’s cold. When Blaze's fire-yellow eyes settle on Cloud, it freezes to the point of painful heat in her chest. Blaze's hand falls upon Cloud's shoulder like a threat. "Cloud, my daughter," Blaze begins, voice far too even, "what happened?" And here's the thing: logically, Cloud recognizes that Blaze should have no way of knowing what happened. The way it's presented, though, this feels like a chance to tell the truth. At least, to Cloud. It's enough to cast doubt. It's enough to question what Blaze knows. Blaze feigns a sick impression of sympathy with her smile. "I received no notes for ransom. Nobody saw you leave. I had no idea where you were. I've been worried mad." You're already mad, Cloud longs to retort. She knows too well Blaze wasn't worried about her, she was concerned about her heir. If Cloud had been found dead, that'd be a lot of wasted money and effort on Blaze's part. And yet.

"I'm sorry to have caused concern," she recites. Her hands clasp behind her. Cloud looks forward, unfocused but steady. "I'm back now, and I'm unharmed. I can return to work tomorrow." Blaze's grip tightens, Cloud's hands twitch behind her.

"That is not what I asked," Blaze hisses. "You reckless child, do you have any idea what you do to others? I do not have the time to be fretting over you. What would I have done if this made it to the public? The crown princess disappeared from her own party in a secure castle, under her mother's watch. How would that have made me look, us look?" Shame runs through Cloud's mind as she blanks. She tries and fails to conceal her trembling. She knows what her mother is doing! So why does it still hurt?

"I know, I'm sorry," she forces out, desperately straightening the waver in her voice.

"I already figured you ran away on your own somewhere," Blaze claims. Her voice softens, "but what I don't understand is why. You're such a smart girl, Cloud." Her hand raises from her shoulder to cup her cheek. "Why would you do something so stupid? Why would you endanger yourself, shy away from your daily duties to your country, insult your mother like that?" 

"That wasn't my intention," she shutters out, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause-"

"-Well, what did you think would happen?" Blaze sneers. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know, I-"

"-What happened? Why would you do this?" Cloud can feel the white-hot panic-induced tears stabbing her eyes. She's fallen back into her roll, timidly tractable. She's too scared to do anything, and she hates herself for it. She hates herself; she hates this! She wants to stand up for herself, but she knows there would be grave consequences. She can't do it. She can't stand up to her mother. The copper taste of blood taints her mouth as she bites her tongue in an attempt to reel back the emotion, to distract herself from the emotional pain with a physical alternative.

But then, she remembers. She is going to do something, just not now. Though her fantasies are filled with lightning, rolling thunder may be better suited for now. Under the threshold of detection, Cloud will pull pieces from the chessboard to strike Blaze where it'll hurt most: her power. This isn't forever. Things will change, even if it's small at first. She just has to believe in that future she dreams of.

After all, the flames of revolution arise from a spark of hope.

Cloud yanks air into her chest and, in shaky words, responds, "Why did you really kill her?" Blaze's eyebrows raise, caught off guard. Then, they furrow, angry.

"If that's what this is about, then I made the right choice," she declares. Cloud's eyes widen, rimmed with unshed tears.

"What?" She utters. Blaze’s face pinches. 

"You will speak to me properly," she chides. 

"I'm sorry, what do you mean you 'made the right choice?'" Cloud questions, voice uneven. Angry is dangerous. Angry and terrified can be disastrous. Blaze should know that by now.

"Miss Tulip Garden became a distraction for you. You became unfocused in your work," Blaze explains. "I warned you about it before, didn't I?" Cloud's thoughts wreak havoc in her head, shoving through file after disorganized file. Blaze threatens her so often; it's difficult to keep track of what she has and hasn't commented on.

"I'm not allowed to have friends, then?" She asks numbly, gray settling atop the red like ash over ember. Blaze arches an eyebrow.

"Is that what you call friendship?" Blaze huffs. "Much too intimate for that, wasn't it?" Well. That explains her marriage. "It matters not anymore. She's out of the way. You can return your focus to your duties and studies now. That is, if you've wrapped up your tantrum." 

If the Cerinthe Rebellion succeeds and seizes Blaze, Cloud will be the one to kill her. She clenches her jaw and grits out, "Of course. I’m sorry." This isn’t worth fighting over, getting beat for. No matter how she argues, Cloud will never change Blaze’s way of thinking. Gods, getting her to apologize for anything is a daydream at this point. Unable to take out her fury on her mother now, Cloud muses on her eventual revenge. Maybe they'll even let her do it with the katana Blaze hates so much in place of a rope. The skull behind your temples is thinner than most would think. She could do it in a single stab. It's no guillotine, but hey, it's efficient, and relatively clean. Not that Blaze deserves a clean send off.

"You and I both know you're not getting off that easily." Blaze's fingers tap upon Cloud's shoulder. "That said, you are not a child anymore. I don't have the time to pull you aside and discipline you every time you do something wrong. Not to mention, it damages our image. So, from now on, I'm doing something different." Just like that, fear pierces through the ash again, kicking anger down the stairs on its way back up. Before she can respond, Blaze's hands alight. Yellow and blinding, it's just like the sun—burns like it, too.

Cloud can feel it, like magma through her veins. It's always just been centered in one spot, like a knife wound, but this, this is acid under her skin, lava burns above it, bleach in her eyes, blistering. Cloud's mouth opens, but nothing escapes save for a sharp gasp. Blaze grips her jaw, jerks Cloud's face toward her own. "From now on," she hisses, "I won't have to tell you when I'm angry with you." It's crackled noise to Cloud. She barely processes it. "You've kept me sleepless long enough. I'm going to rest now. You do the same." She shoves Cloud out of the way, a simple obstacle in her path.

Cloud crumples against the desk, clinging to its edge to keep herself up as her head swirls. She gasps rather than breathes, fists clenched and shaking. Gradually, the burning subsides. What the hell was that? What was that? What did she do to her?! Cloud drags an unsteady hand through her hair. A spell of some sort, obviously, but what? What? What just happened? It still hurts, aches, causing something like a soreness when Cloud puts her weight on her arms to lift herself off the desk. It's raw, as if the fire had been real when it danced beneath her skin. What did Blaze say again? Cloud successfully props herself up and leans on the table's edge. She's bewildered, the room is spinning, and the ghost of pain covers her, but she's physically fine. This feels like what Blaze ordinarily does, just… full body. She implied she wouldn't have to do anything from now on, so is it some sort of curse? Is that going to happen every single time Blaze is angry with her? Is it affected by distance at all? It eased as she left the room, but it could just be coincidental.

Cloud's scattered brain is whirring uncontrollably—a storm of thoughts—but from the panic, confusion, and general upset, only two particular thoughts can stand out. One, this is terrible. Obviously. Two, this could be useful, an alarm system, of sorts. Which reminds her-

Cloud turns around to see the paperwork her mother had been working on. This room is full of her paperwork. She glances at the door, knowing the guards are outside. It'll be suspicious if she's in here too long, but she can teleport back here later, once she's calmed down.

She's back in the castle. It's time to get to work.