Chapter 5
Ipace my rooms as muted morning light creeps across the floor, bringing with it the weight of choices already set in motion. For the last five days I’ve been confined here, hidden under the guise of severe distress over the Archpriest’s demise.
Eva convinced Ryker to let her former duenna take up Eleanor’s post—a plump, elderly woman so fond of her little Evie that she stations herself outside my doors and refrains from prying too deeply into the secrecy surrounding me.
I’ve heard nothing of Eleanor’s fate, but I suspect Ryker has already dealt with her for failing to protect me.
A pang of pity pricks at me. I never cared for her, but she was unwavering in her duty. And now my mess is spilling over, staining the lives of others. The thought fractures my already battered heart a little more.
During these five days, my rooms have become both sanctuary and tormentor. Their walls cradle me and cage me in equal measure. The uncertainty and the endless dragging of time within the same suffocating space has grown unbearable. By the fifth day, I’m unraveling.
One question refuses to leave me. It ricochets through my skull as I rub my newly gloved fingers together, louder each time it returns.
What have I done?
It roars through my mind, an unrelenting scream I cannot silence. My world has shrunk to this room, to the confines of silk gloves and a hidden strand, to the inevitable moment when I will have to leave the safety of these walls and step into the unknown.
I should feel relieved that I have a way forward, that I am not being dragged to Rust Hollow on Zyrel’s leash. Yet relief is the one thing I cannot seem to grasp.
All I feel is dread.
“Sit,” Eva commands, her voice brisk as she gestures to the vanity.
I obey, sinking into the seat as she looms behind me, fingers deftly sorting through my hair. “We need to hide that strand. If anyone sees it—”
“I know.” My voice is tight, betraying the tension whirling within me. “It’s the end. My end,” I add in a whisper.
Eva nods, her hands moving swiftly. She reaches for the collection of hair rings and jeweled decor she left to gather from her chambers, carefully weaving the adornments into my hair.
“Once the Champions are named,” she says, “the first Challenge will begin immediately.” She gestures toward the stone-framed mirror mounted high on the wall of my receiving chamber, visible through the open doors to the bathing room and bedroom.
It is but one among the countless thousands that cover the kingdom, hanging in every household and hall, lining the main streets, and gleaming even within the temples. “Everyone will be glued to the Divinity Gazes’ glass until the Challenge ends. There will be no better—or any other—time to do it.”
I nod. The Sphere will stir the mirrors to life, casting the Challenges into every corner of the realm for all to witness. They will remain active until the final challenge concludes, then fall silent again.
“Everyone will be too busy watching blood spill to notice where the two of you have gone. If everything goes to plan, and it will,” she adds, giving my hand another squeeze, “you’ll both return before anyone starts asking questions.” She meets my eyes. “We’ll deal with the gossip together. Okay?”
Since we never secured my father’s permission, my betrothal to Ryker was never formally announced.
Ryker had planned to announce the wedding himself, closer to the date.
People, of course, whispered about it, but nothing was ever official.
In the end, that choice may have spared us the embarrassment of having to publicly end it.
I force my dry lips into something like a smile. No scandal. No discovery. No turning back.
“There,” Eva says, stepping back to examine her work. “No one will notice, not unless they’re looking for it.”
I meet Eva’s gaze in the mirror, my throat tight with emotion. Each delicate piece is arranged to obscure the red strand, the glinting metal and artful loops acting as a shield against prying eyes.
The result is a masterpiece. A cascade of white waves, entwined with jewels and golden hair rings. Regal enough to draw every eye, intricate enough to distract from the truth buried beneath.
Her black hair is styled like mine, adorned with dozens of gold rings. But one stands out—a tiny, simple silver band. Inside, two names are etched: Eva and Archer. Her husband carved them there himself on the night of their wedding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it.
A quiet part of me is relieved that at least one of us has known a love like that, when something so small, so seemingly insignificant, can mean everything.
“You don’t think we should go directly to the chapel to be married?” No matter how much I want to delay a union with Mael, the thought of leaving this room, risking someone noticing the red in my hair, facing Ryker’s hatred… the thought is unbearable.
“It’s impossible,” Eva says, her tone clipped but not unkind, “Mael is expected to be with Ryker for The Rising of the Champions ceremony. That’s probably the only reason no one has come for you yet. Everyone is too busy.”
My hands twist in my lap, the silk gloves creaking softly. “Eva, will you please talk to him for me? Tell Ryker that I—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Eva cuts me off, her expression softening.
“Once you’re safe from the Church, you and Ryker can talk all you want.
But until then, you must not draw any attention to yourself.
Act as usual. If the court learns, there’s no redemption even if you’re wed to Mael.
And then even he might change his mind. And if he does… ” She shakes her head.
I look down. “Then my fate will be set.”
“Exactly.” Eva squeezes my shoulder gently. “You have to stay strong, Ray. You have to see this through. Not just for yourself, but for those who’ll suffer if women like us aren’t at court, pushing for change.”
I nod, swallowing hard as I glance at the dress laid out for me. Apparently, my defiance against the Archpriest has made me quite famous. Eva said her chambermaid had come to work that morning with a crimson wildflower in their hair.
To be marked, chained and taken away, trampling the fragile hope I might have raised in the minds of others, makes me ill. But an even greater part of me feels like a coward. Instead of standing tall and proud before the people who’d be so quick to condemn me, I’m in this room, furtively hiding.
My gown is a modest shade of blue and Eva wears a bold yellow.
The color is deliberate, meant to draw attention away from me.
She pulled gloves over her arms, ensuring her appearance mirrors mine as closely as possible.
We are a set, specifically coordinated so that no one will question why my hair is arranged so precisely instead of my usual loose waves.
As I rise and step into the dress, Eva adjusts the fabric, smoothing it over my shoulders. Then she crosses her arms, her expression hardening. “I’m going to say this once, and you’re going to listen.”
I blink. “What?”
“You need to stop wallowing,” Eva says, her voice like steel.
“Yes, this is terrible. Yes, it’s unfair.
But your life isn’t over, Ray. You’re still here, still breathing, and you still have a chance.
So get your head up, square your shoulders, and fight for what you want.
Because no one else is going to do it for you. ”
I stare at her, turning over her words, while my self-pity withers beneath her stern gaze.
My mind drifts back to that day: sitting numbly on the floor, waiting for something that never came. Clinging to the fragile hope that Ryker might still save me, mend me.
And then, at last, accepting Mael’s proposal not as a choice, but as surrender. As the quiet end of… me. I haven’t been able to imagine a future beyond this wedding. I never even tried.
You’re still here, still breathing, and you still have a chance.
Fight for what I want. Not just survive. Not just endure. Fight.
Before, I fought for the memory of my mother. For the women who’ve been so badly mistreated, and the young girls of the future who might be spared that fate.
Now, I need to fight for myself.
I inhale sharply, feeling the tension in my shoulders form into something new and solid. I have spent too long drowning in fear, waiting for the world to decide my fate.
No more.
If this is the path before me, I will carve my own way through it.
Even if my heart is beyond repair, there are thousands of Rust Hollow women who never had the chance I’ve been given, whose curses were left entirely on their shoulders, while the men who caused them walked free.
At least mine is willing to carry part of the burden.
“You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Eva says with a fierce smile and then she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace. “You’re stronger than this. Don’t forget it.”
I close my eyes, soaking in each word like the warmth of a small fire on a freezing night.
When I pull back, my grip on the moment is steady. My voice does not waver.
“I won’t,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Eva says. “We still have to get you through this day.”
A knock sounds at the door, and both of us come out of the bathing chamber.
Mael steps inside, his gaze sweeping over us with calculated calm, briefly pausing over the short, round woman that opened the door.
Eva’s old duenna is happy to play the role and serve as my chaperone, long enough to keep up appearances without inviting too many questions. If she suspects that something strange is going on, she doesn’t ask.
“I came to check in before leaving,” Mael says. “Ryker just left without me, but I’m expected to follow right away. My carriage is waiting.”
I stiffen at the thought of Ryker’s rage. His deep hurt.
Disappointing him is perhaps the hardest thing of all.