Chapter 4 #2
“I have no memory of what happened,” I admit. My voice sounds thin, even to my own ears. I shift my gaze to Mael, who leans against the wall, his face unreadable. “You don’t remember either?” I finally ask, my throat tightening.
Eva watches us, her arms folded tightly, tension rigid in her shoulders. Her expression is a knife’s edge. “Finally lived out your childhood dream?” she states flatly, her words cut and puncture.
Mael flinches, just barely.
But the emotion behind her words isn’t just accusation, it’s pain. I’ve known Eva long enough to recognize it. The slight tremor in her breath, the way her fingers dig into her own arms. She’s furious. At Mael. At me. At this entire situation.
And beneath it—guilt.
Because she is safe. She, of all people, will never be cast aside. Never be branded and discarded like the women of Rust Hollow. Her name, her marriage, all of it protects her from the curse.
“I always knew you wanted her, Mael,” Eva continues, her voice cold but fraying at the edges. “But I never imagined you could be so cruel.”
Mael’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing. His silence pushes forward a memory, a phrase he said to Ryker as we left the plaza.
You told me to take her, brother. So I will.
It had sounded so casual then, almost careless. Now the words return like a fulfilled prophecy.
I shake off the memory, and stare at Eva, stunned by the certainty in her words. She has made the occasional off-hand comment about Mael, but never voiced her suspicions so boldly, or openly.
Mael finally moves, pushing off the wall slowly. “Presumptions, as always,” he says, dismissing her accusations with forced indifference.
Anxiety vibrates through my blood, curling beneath my skin. Maybe I should have listened to Eva more closely. But the truth is that I am also to blame, alone with a man in my room, drinking wine, and trading intimacies. What utter stupidity.
Eva exhales sharply, pacing now, her fingers threading into her dark curls as if trying to anchor herself.
After a long moment, Mael exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “My mind is as blank as Raylane’s.” The words are flat, stripped of any true conviction. “But the situation speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”
His gaze flicks to my hair, to the single red streak that damns me.
Eva studies it, her fingers brushing over the crimson streak, but this time, there’s no detached precision. Her hand trembles slightly before she pulls it away.
“It couldn’t have been more than a kiss,” she murmurs. “It’s barely visible.” Her voice is softer now, but it doesn’t feel reassuring. It feels like a death sentence. A breath later, she straightens, locking herself back into sharp control. Her eyes cut to Mael. “What did Ryker say?”
I exhale through my nose. The sound of his name rubs against my skin like wet gravel.
“I’d like to know that too,” I say, turning to Mael.
His jaw tightens. He lifts his head slightly, just enough for the firelight to catch the fresh bloom of bruises along his jaw.
“We talked,” he says dryly.
I wince.
“He’s not in the happiest mood.”
“Of course,” I say. “The Archpriest is dead. Ryker has to focus on the realm before dealing with this. I mean—”
“He said that order and justice must prevail in these uncertain times.” Mael’s voice is soft, but no less damning.
“Justice?” I blink. For whom?
“She’s being sent to Rust Hollow,” Eva finishes, disbelieving.
Mael nods slightly. “He ordered you confined to your rooms, under the supervision of a new duenna, until each Church is ready to present its Champion. Once the kingdom’s attention turns to the Trial, he hopes the matter will be handled quietly.”
The words punch straight through me, and a flicker of something sharp rises just beneath my skin: hurt, edged with anger. Hurt that Ryker would fall in line with the Church’s demands. And anger that he hasn’t come to tell me himself.
But I have spent enough time in Rust Hollow to know what awaits me there.
The bony curve of women’s shoulders beneath threadbare dresses.
The scarred flesh of those strong enough to survive the lashings.
The sharp iron scent of blood after yet another desperate girl attempts escape.
The hollow stares of souls already surrendered. The place where my mother died.
A future that I will not accept.
“I’d rather run,” I blurt out. “And if they kill me in pursuit, so be it.”
“Raylane,” Eva snaps.
“That’s why I got you to come,” Mael mumbles to Eva, raking a hand through his hair again. “You’re the only one who can talk sense into her.”
Eva presses her lips together, thinking. “There is another option, which might be worse than Rust Hollow, but should be considered.”
I frown. “What?”
“Marriage,” Eva says, as if the word alone is an answer. “Once you’re wed, the curse disappears.” The room stills.
My stomach knots. “But marrying Ryker won’t help,” I argue. “Even if he could bring himself to do it. I would have to marry—”
My gaze flicks to Mael.
He stands frozen. Not blank, as before, but rigid, as if something heavy has just settled onto his shoulders.
Eva rounds on him, hands on her hips. “If you think you get to escape this unscathed while Ray is banished—”
Mael takes a step back, shaking his head. “Eva—”
“You caused this,” she snaps. “You can fix it.”
He lets out a slow breath, his throat working as if swallowing something bitter. His hands flex at his sides. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, looking anywhere but at me. “We could never make it work.”
My eyes begin to burn at the statement.
It.
It, as in my ruined life.
It, as in a marriage to the very man who plied me with wine and kissed me when I was too drunk to stop him.
It, as in a loveless future, one where I’d be forced to watch the man I love choosing someone else. Crown someone else. Bear children with someone else.
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that alone might erase the thoughts. But a tremble rises anyway, low and relentless, reverberating through my bones and into every inch of my exhausted body.
Eva crosses her arms. “You might not have a choice.”
Silence.
Mael exhales sharply, and I open my eyes to watch him drag a hand down his face. He pivots on his heel, paces once, and then stops.
“You think Ryker will accept this?” His voice is lower now, almost dangerous. “You think I can just—” He gestures between us. His jaw clenches. “This isn’t some minor gossip, Eva. This is a scandal. Betrayal.”
“And sending Raylane to Rust Hollow isn’t?” Eva fires back.
His gaze flicks to me. Then, away again.
I hold my breath.
For a moment, I think he’s going to refuse. That he’ll say no, I won’t do it. That he’ll let me be cast aside like every other woman before me.
Then slowly, as if dragging the words from some deep, unwilling part of himself, he speaks. “You’re right.” His voice is rough. Not sharp. Not resigned. Just… exhausted.
He turns back, shoulders squared, spine rigid with the weight of it. “We made a mistake together,” he says at last. “We’ll face the consequences together.”
The words shock me almost as much as my curse itself.
This is Mael. Reckless, selfish, vehemently opposed to duty. He’s always vowed never to be shackled by marriage, never to surrender his freedom, and he has an even longer history of making messes and walking away from them without another thought.
I try to picture a life at his side. But all I see is Ryker. Ryker, who should have been mine.
Eva grips my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “There’s no choice, Ray. And there’s no time to decide either.” Her voice is lower now, more dangerous. “It’s this, or Rust Hollow.”
A shudder rips through me.
I try to imagine myself there, standing in the dust-choked streets, bones pressing against my skin from weeks without enough food, the weight of exile settling into the hollow of my chest. I wonder how long it would take before I broke.
Because I know I would. Everyone does.
First they try to bear it, then they try to run. Everyone knows what comes next. Thirty lashes. A lesson etched into a sinner’s skin, and a broken body left to rot back in the Rust Hollow.
Is that what my mother felt before they dragged her away to that wretched place? The same rising panic, the same bone-deep certainty that there’s no way out?
Was she afraid, like I am now? Or was she brave, so sure she’d survive it all?
In the end, no amount of courage was enough to save her.
A shudder tears through me as I look at Mael. I will lose everything, including my power to change this evil system, unless I trade one cage for another. My throat is raw, my body cold. I don’t want this.
But I don’t want Rust Hollow more. Acknowledging that cowardice, that surrender to the easier path, sets shame clawing up my throat.
Mael says nothing. Just watches me. Waiting.
A broken laugh hitches in my throat. Because that’s exactly what this is. A surrender.
I drop my gaze, and nod.