11. 10
The light spilled across the aviary in waves of silver that glittered with the promise of peace. Peace. That’s what Mabel needed. Not the dreams plaguing her sleep, not the burning she felt in her stomach. Certainly not the prince she wasn’t betrothed to.
She slipped free of her heels, a sigh leaving her as she grounded herself in the grass.
Birdsong filled the air with a cheerful hum, welcoming her.
Her eyes swept across the vast space. Birds of all shapes and colors took flight, nestled in branches, tending nests.
They knew nothing of the turmoil that had wound itself so deeply in her chest.
Mabel wandered deeper until she found the creek that split through the grass and settled down beside it. Her head dropped into her hands. A trembling breath escaped her.
What have I done?
“Meryth,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?” Slowly, she looked up. There were no stars, just the gray sky that threatened the fall of snow. “I know I’m far from home. Far from the protection of your wings and your guidance. But I need you.”
The rustle of wings in the air was the only response.
“Auren seems to be set on making my life hell. Can you believe it? The god of peace,”—a scoff left her throat—“tormenting me.”
A streak of black feathers rushed overhead, startling her. The raven landed in front of her gracefully, head tilted, its glassy eyes narrowed.
Mabel laughed softly, a hand on her chest to settle the jump in her heart. “Hi … Kara, right?” she asked, a small smile on her lips.
The raven hopped closer, eyeing her with great suspicion. I’ve never known you to be a fool, my child.
“What?” Mabel’s eyes flared, and she jumped to her feet.
The raven hopped closer, its silky black feathers shining in the light. You know better than to forsake the gods. Auren sees. I see. Veyra sees.
“Meryth? How are you here? What are you saying?” Mabel asked, shaking her head.
Is my form bothering you? I thought my children would bring you comfort. The raven huffed a breath of annoyance before its shape twisted, transformed into Frey and spoke just as her, “Does the mother bring you comfort? Do her wise words hold stronger than mine?”
Mabel stepped back. “Meryth, I would never forsake you.”
“Then listen, my child.” She snapped. “The god of passion may have … modern ways of sharing his dreams but they are just as prophecy as the stars.”
“I am promised to Th—”
“You are more than your mortal promises.” She glared at her, daring her to deny it.
“Then what am I to do?” Mabel bit, fists balling. “I am bound by oaths to marry him. Are you asking me to marry his brother?”
“Perhaps it is not comfort you need. Perhaps it is fear.” The goddess shifted once more, the shape of her father jarring. His piercing eyes cut through Mabel without a second thought. His voice roared, “You will listen to me. It is not marriage I ask of you.”
Mabel stumbled, overwhelming fear crashing into her. She fell back into the soft grass, heart pounding. This wasn’t her fear. It radiated from every inch of Meryth as she towered over Mabel.
“Then what?” Mabel’s voice trembled. She couldn’t hold her father’s stare. “What do you want from me?”
“Enough of this.” A voice sounded from behind. “She is under my care, Meryth.”
“She is mine!” Meryth roared, looking past Mabel. “You plague her dreams without giving her truth.”
“Oh, they are truth.”
Mabel froze as she felt a pair of hands on either side of her settling on her chin. They guided her gently, coaxing her to look up.
“Isn’t that right, Miss Ravenov?”
Mabel blinked as Lance’s golden eyes met hers, soft, glowing. Her heart leaped in her chest. What is happening?
“You are toying with her, Auren. She needs to know her place in this,” Meryth bit back.
“Patience, sister. She is not ready to know. Tell her now and she’ll panic. For a goddess of wisdom, you are quite slow.” Auren spoke to the goddess, but his gaze never left Mabel’s. Every pass of his eyes was analyzing, calculating. “She’s scared. Stop it.”
Meryth groaned, her form once more changing. Her frame shortened, softened, until Ada stood before her. “I tire of your games.”
“You must endure it, I’m afraid. But do not fret, sister, she will come to know the truth. The winter solstice shall bring clarity.”
“Not to all of it,” Meryth scoffed.
“Baby steps,” Auren hummed. “That’s what you mortals say, isn’t it?” He offered a soothing smile to Mabel, but a frown quickly replaced it. “You are still frightened. Why?”
Mabel opened her mouth to speak but nothing came of it. So many questions soared through her. How is this possible? How are they speaking to me? Can gods hide among us like this? What does Meryth want to tell me? Why won’t Auren tell me?
“She is in shock,” Auren noted. “I told you not to meddle in these affairs.”
“I brought her to you. Now you refuse my guidance?” Meryth seethed. “It was hard enough to secure Varkeyrish’s blessing for this farce. My patience is wearing thin.”
“Enough. We will discuss the matter later. I must erase her memory of us.” The smile he offered was far from sweet. “I have a dream to finish. You are more than welcome to stay, Meryth.” He tore his gaze from Mabel, offering a cocky smirk to the goddess.
“I dislike your dreams.” Meryth shook her head, turning from him. “But do as you must.” Her shape glittered, shining bright as she shifted into a raven as bright as the stars, forcing Mabel to close her eyes. The goddess took off in flight.
“Now, my sweet child. Where were we?” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. A wave of calm washed over Mabel, her vision fading to black.
“Gods, Mabel,” Lance’s rough voice sounded through the dark. Hands were on her body, lips devouring hers, a sweet, sweet pleasure coursing through her entirely.
A soft moan slipped from her throat, swallowed by the man who invaded her waking thoughts. He claimed her over and over again, sinking into her warmth like he owned it.
“You are mine.”
“All yours. Only yours.”
Mabel jolted upright from the warmth of her bed, heart pounding in her chest, sweat soaking her skin. Morning light poured into the room, soft, waiting.
“Stupid fucking dreams,” she spat, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Mabel studied her reflection in the mirror; the room bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. Shadows danced along the walls, flickering against stone. Ada had just finished her work, each braid meticulously placed; every strand smoothed into submission.
The winter solstice celebration loomed. A kingdom-wide spectacle, gilded in tradition and excess. Theodore had spoken of it often, his voice full of pride. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, he’d said, eyes gleaming.
She hadn’t known what to expect. But the castle had made its intentions clear.
A procession of women arrived at her door that morning, silent and efficient.
They guided her to the bathhouse, where steam curled around marble pillars and her skin was scrubbed until it stung.
Her curls were washed, combed, and oiled.
Her body was buffed and perfumed, her nails shaped, her lips tinted.
She hadn’t spoken much. No one had asked her to.
Now, she stood before the mirror, the perfect portrait of a princess.
But her eyes betrayed her. They searched the glass for something familiar, something untouched by ceremony or expectation. Something real.
She looked beautiful. Regal. Untouchable.
And yet, she felt like a ghost wearing borrowed skin.
She hadn’t realized how much of herself she’d surrendered. Not until Lance—
Her breath caught. She shoved the memory back—his mouth on hers, the heat of it, the way it had cracked something open inside her.
She’d been avoiding him ever since.
But it hadn’t stopped the glances. In crowded halls or empty corridors, across banquet tables or training yards, their eyes found each other. Always.
She’d look away first. Always.
But his gaze lingered, burning and impossible to ignore.
She hadn’t told anyone. Not Ada. Not even herself, not really. And gods, she prayed Lance hadn’t said a word.
If it got out—if anyone knew what had passed between them—it would unravel everything she’d worked for.
She could already see Theodore’s face. The fury. The betrayal. The heartbreak.
All because of her.
Guilt clung to her like a second skin. Tonight was no different.
Draped in Aurevyn’s maroon and brushed gold, the ache settled deeper. The crown atop her head—delicate, spiraled antlers curling from its base—felt heavier than it should. More symbol than ornament. More burden than honor.
Ada rifled through the vanity with practiced ease, smiling when she spotted the gold chain. “There it is,” she said, lifting it with gentle fingers. “A little piece of home.”
Mabel didn’t respond as Ada clasped it around her throat. Her gaze stayed fixed on the blue pendant—her father’s gift. His words still echoed, uninvited. A token. To remind you what’s at stake.
“You are beautiful,” Ada said softly, her fingers brushing one of Mabel’s braids, pride flickering across her face.
“Thanks,” Mabel offered, her smile tight but sincere. “You’re even prettier. Look at you.” She nudged Ada’s arm playfully.
Ada blushed, rare and pink, the silver gown Mabel had lent her glimmering as she twirled slightly. Her dark hair tumbled in soft waves, dotted with braids Mabel had insisted on doing herself.
“I look odd,” Ada laughed quietly. “I’m not used to … all this.”
“You look regal,” Mabel said firmly. “It suits you.”
Ada’s eyes softened, the compliment sitting heavy in her chest. “Thank you.”
Mabel leaned her head against Ada’s shoulder, eyes tracing their reflections in the mirror. “I’m glad you’re coming with me,” she whispered.
Ada nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. But her gaze lingered on Mabel’s face, studying the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes didn’t quite meet her own. She could feel it. The weight Mabel wasn’t sharing.