Chapter 13 Sisters #3
Now, riding beside her, Eira was beginning to understand just how much she had missed.
For a while they continued in comfortable silence, the fading daylight stretching long shadows across the snow as the road carried them steadily onward.
Later, as her gaze drifted once again toward the unmistakable curve beneath Maelin’s cloak, she shook her head.
“You have children.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“You have a husband.”
“That too.”
“And apparently you haven’t spent the last several years idle.”
That earned her a proper older-sister look, followed by laughter warm enough to startle Eira into silence. She had not realized how much she missed that sound until she heard it again. The years between them suddenly felt real in a way they never had through letters, rumors, or distant memories.
Eventually the laughter faded, and the road curved between two low hills where the landscape opened before them. They rode in companionable silence until a question slipped from Eira before she could stop it.
“Are you happy?”
Maelin did not answer immediately. Instead, she kept her eyes on the road ahead, watching the last light of day spill across the fields.
“I have a good husband,” she said at last.
It was not truly an answer, and both of them knew it.
Fortunately, Maelin spared them from lingering too long in the uncomfortable silence that followed. She lifted a hand and pointed ahead.
“Do you see it?”
At first Eira could make out only a scattering of lights glowing in the distance. As they continued forward, however, the shape of a large estate gradually emerged from the gathering dusk.
The place looked nothing like Ironfang or Frostvein.
It had been built for living rather than defending, with warm windows, broad roofs, and open grounds instead of walls, battlements, and watchtowers.
Smoke drifted from chimneys, stables stood beside the main house, and clusters of outbuildings surrounded the estate like smaller satellites.
Beyond them, the dark outlines of fruit trees slept beneath the snow.
The entire place felt inhabited in a way fortresses rarely did.
“Is that home?” Eira asked softly.
Maelin looked toward the glowing windows, toward the life she had built there and everything she now stood to risk.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “At least, I’ve always tried to make it one.”
Together they continued down the road toward the lights, and for the first time in a very long while, Eira felt something that resembled hope.
By the time they reached the estate, darkness had settled fully across the countryside.
The last traces of daylight lingered only along the western horizon, where a narrow band of fading gold separated the snow-covered hills from the deepening night.
Ahead of them, warm light spilled from dozens of windows, turning the estate into a small island of amber and gold amid the winter darkness.
What had seemed merely welcoming from a distance felt vibrant and alive once they drew closer.
Smoke rose from chimneys into the cold evening air while stable hands moved between buildings carrying lanterns. Somewhere beyond the main house a dog barked before being silenced by a familiar voice, and the scent of woodsmoke, horses, and supper drifted across the yard on the wind.
For a brief moment, Eira simply sat in her saddle and watched.
The place felt nothing like Ironfang, where towering walls, patrolling guards, and an ever-present sense of vigilance shaped every aspect of daily life.
The estate had been built for generations to live within it rather than for soldiers to defend.
Stone foundations supported broad timber structures whose windows glowed warmly against the darkness, while smaller outbuildings clustered around the main house in a pattern that had likely evolved over decades rather than according to any military design.
What surprised her most were the sounds of ordinary life: voices, laughter, and the familiar noise of people bringing their day to an end.
The realization settled unexpectedly inside her, and she found herself unable to remember the last time she had seen a place where life seemed more important than survival.
Beside her, Maelin's horse slowed.
The change was subtle, marked only by a tightening of the reins and a slight shift in posture, yet Eira noticed it immediately.
The ease that had accompanied their journey from the tower had vanished, and her sister's gaze moved across the estate, lingering briefly on the stable yard before settling on the illuminated windows of the main house as though she were calculating possibilities and weighing consequences.
The sight made Eira's stomach tighten.
"You haven't told him."
It wasn't a question.
Maelin remained silent for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
"No."
The answer came softly.
Eira looked toward the house.
"He doesn't know I'm here."
"No."
The second answer sounded even less comfortable than the first.
For several moments neither of them spoke while the estate carried on around them as though nothing unusual was happening. A pair of servants crossed the yard carrying baskets, someone laughed near the stables, and light flickered behind curtained windows.
Everything looked painfully normal.
"Maelin."
Her sister closed her eyes briefly.
"I know."
"You should have told him."
"I know."
The repetition carried more frustration than agreement.
When Maelin finally looked at her, worry had returned fully to her face.
"I wanted one evening."
The honesty of the answer caught Eira off guard.
"One evening before everything becomes complicated."
Neither of them pretended not to understand what she meant, because it would become complicated, and perhaps it already was.
Maelin glanced toward the main house again before guiding her horse away from the road, not toward the front entrance but toward the side of the estate.
Eira noticed immediately.
The path curved behind a line of storage buildings and continued toward a smaller courtyard that was partially hidden from the main yard. Lantern light barely reached this part of the grounds, and the sounds of the household gradually faded behind them.
"Maelin."
Her sister kept riding.
"Please don't make that face."
"What face?"
"The one where you've already decided I'm right."
Eira almost laughed.
Instead, she followed as Maelin guided them behind a large stone granary and toward an older wing of the estate that appeared to have been built long before the rest.
Unlike the main house, only a few windows here were illuminated, while most remained dark and undisturbed, giving the entire section a quiet, hidden quality.
And suddenly Eira understood.
Not because Maelin explained, but because she didn't, and because every turn they had taken since entering the grounds pointed toward the same conclusion.
Maelin wasn't hiding her from enemies; she was hiding her from her own household.
The realization settled heavily between them.
Ahead, a narrow side door opened into the older section of the house, and a lantern burned beside it, casting a pool of warm light across the snow.
Maelin finally dismounted, moving more carefully now that the long ride was behind her. For a moment she stood beside her horse with one hand resting against her stomach while she gathered herself, and then she looked up at Eira.
"Come inside."
The words were simple, yet beneath them lay everything neither of them had said.
For tonight, at least, the world could wait, while tomorrow promised difficulties soon enough.