19. Adelina #2
His voice lowers, cold and sharp enough to cut through the rain. “I have spent days chasing lies, risking soldiers, crossing borders, and holding together a treaty you apparently decided was less important than your fear.”
“I didn’t choose this,” I whisper.
“No. But you chose to run.”
Kaedryn crouches over me, voice dropping so only I can hear. “You’re mine now, Adelina. I’m not letting your selfish actions tear apart two kingdoms anymore.”
Selfish.
The word lands inside me like a final door closing. I thought Varek was the only one who could make a room shrink around me with a single word. I was wrong. Kaedryn does it here, in the open air, beneath a tropical rain, with the Sea Temple steps close enough that I can see water shining on them.
Selfish.
Maybe that is all he sees. A spoiled northern princess who ran from duty. A frightened girl who made his life harder. What I want has no place here. My life has always been for others to decide. I was foolish to think otherwise.
The fight leaves me all at once.
Something inside me folds inward, deep and quiet, retreating to the only place no one has learned how to reach. The noise of the square dulls. Rain becomes a distant sensation against my hood and cheeks. His face remains above me, but it seems farther away now, separated from me by glass.
“You said you wouldn’t take me back to him,” I murmur before I allow my body to do the thing it does best. I let go.
Kaedryn’s face tightens, and for one second something like regret moves through his eyes.
Then the shadows loosen enough for him to lift me.
He gathers me from the stones, one arm behind my back and one beneath my knees.
My head falls against him, all fight gone.
His body is warm from exertion despite the rain, his hold firm but not rough.
Cruelty would be simpler if it looked the way it felt.
“Adelina,” he calls to me softly.
I can’t answer. What more is there to say?
His arms tighten slightly. “Look at me.”
I do because I have been trained to obey and my body is running on memory now.
His expression shifts. Maybe he sees it then. The difference. The way something has gone still in me beyond fear. But whatever he sees, he doesn’t put me down.
He turns with me in his arms, carrying me through the crowd while people stare and whisper and step aside.
My hood has slipped back. Warm rain touches my hair, and a murmur moves through the pilgrims as they see the silver.
Somewhere, a woman gasps. Somewhere else, a temple attendant takes one step forward, then stops when Kaedryn’s man blocks the way without drawing his blade.
The temple bells keep ringing. I count them like I count the lashes because counting is easier than feeling.
One. Two. Three.
The prince’s men close around us as he carries me away from the Sea Temple. Prince Sylas walks beside him, speaking low, too quiet for me to catch. They are protecting Kaedryn. Or me. Both perhaps. It makes no difference. They’re taking me back. They won’t protect me against my brother.
The road turns downhill, away from the temple steps, toward the harbor where royal boats wait beneath guarded banners. The city opens around the docks, yellow and blue Maralisian guards trying to appear neutral while Dravari soldiers watch from one side and Elyrian men hold the other.
An Elyrian royal boat waits at the end of the pier. Green and blue banners hang from its mast.
Not Dravari black and gold.
For one strange heartbeat, I think perhaps that means he lied. Perhaps he will not take me back to my brother. Perhaps he will take me south despite what he said, and Dravaryn will become a nightmare behind me instead of a sentence ahead.
Then Kaedryn speaks to one of his captains. “Dravaryn first.”
The words pass over me without surprise. There is no room left in me for surprise. That tiny flicker of hope is extinguished.
The captain hesitates. “The temple order may protest.”
“She never reached the steps,” Kaedryn says. “All sail.”
The captain dips his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Kaedryn carries me onto the boat. The deck shifts beneath us, but he does not stumble. He takes me beneath the canopy near the stern, where rain is softened by canvas and the sea wind comes warm against my face. Only then does he set me down on a cushioned bench.
The shadow magic fades from my wrists and ankles, but I remain where I was placed, my arms falling to my sides.
He crouches in front of me again, searching my face with a frustration that almost looks like concern. “You’re not going to be harmed,” he says.
I look at him. I almost answer, almost tell him that Varek’s cruelty does not need his permission.
That my brother does not ask before he punishes what belongs to him.
That Selvara’s sweetness is more dangerous than another woman’s hate.
That going back to my brother’s castle is not a pause before the matter is settled.
It’s punishment, and I will pay dearly for this.
But words are useless now. Kaedryn had me on the street, sobbing, begging, with the temple steps in sight, and he called me selfish.
So I say nothing.
His jaw tightens. “You will speak eventually. Your silence won’t solve anything.”
Yes. Probably. People always find ways to make me speak.
I fold my hands in my lap because they are shaking. The movement is familiar, princess-like, and proper. My wet cloak clings to my sleeves, and my silver hair hangs in damp strands against my cheeks, but my hands remember how to look composed even when the rest of me is ruined.
Kaedryn rises slowly. “Set sail,” he calls.
The boat lurches beneath us as the crew begins to move. Ropes snap free. Sailcloth pulls. The harbor shifts, widening between boat and pier, and the temple city begins to slide away.
I turn my head. The Sea Temple’s white towers rise beyond the roofs and mist, close enough that they still seem possible. The bells ring again, low and holy, the sound carrying over the water.
I watch until rain and distance blur the steps from sight.
Until the temple becomes a pale shape against the sea.
Until the last proof of freedom disappears behind me.
Then I face forward, toward the north, toward Dravaryn, toward the castle where my brother waits.
The pull beneath my ribs is quiet now, like even it knows what lies in store for me.
I sit still beneath the canopy while the Elyrian royal boat cuts across the Celestial Sea, carrying me back to my homeland, back to my brother, back to the place Freya gave everything to help me escape.
And I don’t cry.
I have already learned what tears are worth.