9. Claire
Claire
Papa’s voice was hoarse when he said his goodbyes.
It was so early the sun hadn’t yet crested the mountains. The world was still caught in that quiet, blue-gray hush before morning fully woke. The air was cool against my skin, carrying the faint scent of dew and earth, and everything felt suspended, as if time itself was holding its breath.
I lingered a moment longer than I should have, turning to take in the yard. The chicken coop sat just as it always had, slightly crooked and stubbornly standing despite the years. I could hear the faint clucks stirring within.
“Farewell, Lord Peckington the Third,” I muttered under my breath. “And good riddance.” A small, private smile tugged at my lips before it faded, replaced by a tightness in my chest.
“I’ll write to you as soon as I arrive,” I promised, stepping into Papa’s arms. His embrace was strong and familiar, but there was a tremor in it I’d never felt before. For a moment, I simply held on, pressing my cheek against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of home—woodsmoke, flour, and soil.
My vision blurred. I blinked quickly, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat.
I was excited. I was. And yet, this was my home.
All I had ever known was contained in every creak of the floorboards, every corner of the garden, every quiet morning just like this one. And now I was leaving it behind.
Forever.
Norwich was three weeks’ ride from Thistlebrook, sitting along the southern edge of the continent where the air stayed warm year-round. A place so different it almost didn’t feel real.
Papa gave me one last squeeze before pulling away, his hands lingering on my shoulders as if memorizing me.
Then Matthew stepped forward. He didn’t say much, but the way he kissed my forehead spoke volumes, like he wished he could stop me but knew he couldn’t.
Maribel stood stiffly for a moment, her arms crossed, her expression tight. Then she pulled me into a hug. It lingered longer than I expected.
“I will write you,” I repeated, softer this time. More for myself than for them because they all looked so miserable, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being the only one smiling.
I pulled away before the weight of my departure could settle too deeply. Caspian stood near the carriage. Beyond him, at the front, Ash sat astride a sleek black horse. The horse tossed its head, its hooves shifting against the ground impatiently. I understood the feeling.
Drawing in a breath, I held out my hand toward Caspian, expecting him to assist me in the carriage. He hesitated, and his brows furrowed, as if unsure whether I truly needed the help.
I lifted my chin.
My posture must have clicked for him, because his expression shifted, and he reached out, clasping my hand to steady me as I stepped up. The carriage creaked beneath my weight as I settled inside, smoothing my skirts.
For a fleeting moment, I thought I heard Ash sigh from the front. I chose to ignore it. Instead, I folded my hands in my lap, heart fluttering as I stared out at the fading shape of my home, more than ready for the moment my new life would begin.