25. Adelina #3
The final departure has been arranged with all the elegance my brother can command.
Trunks are loaded into Elyrion carriages.
Dravaryn guards stand in ceremonial lines.
Northern nobles gather on the steps to witness the moment their princess leaves for the South.
The southern escort waits beyond them, horses stamping, coach doors open.
My satchel is inside the carriage. I see it tucked near the seat. The sight gives me one small breath of relief.
Then Varek steps beside me.
Selvara kisses my cheek first. Her lips are cold. “We will miss you, darling,” she says for the crowd.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I murmur a reply.
She pulls back, and her eyes hold mine. There is no warmth there, only satisfaction.
Then my brother takes my hands. Everyone watches as Varek, King of Dravaryn, beloved brother of the departing princess, bends to kiss my brow. To anyone else, it must look tender.
He pulls me to him, one hand pressing between my shoulders, sending searing pain down my spine, the other gripping my arm. His mouth lowers near my ear. “Do not mistake distance for freedom,” he whispers. “You are leaving my walls, not my reach. You still belong to me. Say a word, and Freya pays.”
He pulls away and takes my hands.
I give him nothing. My face remains calm. My hands remain in his. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I whisper.
His fingers tighten, hard enough to bruise if he holds on any longer. Then he releases me. “Safe journey, sister.”
Kaedryn steps forward, eyes fixed on my brother’s face, then mine. “Are you ready, Princess?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” I reply.
He offers his hand to help me into the carriage. I look at it for one heartbeat too long, then place my fingers in his. The pull stirs weakly.
My betrothed helps me up the step, careful not to grip too tightly, careful in a way that almost hurts worse because care after harm feels like mockery even when it is sincere.
I settle onto the cushioned bench, gathering my cloak around me, and move my satchel at my feet where I can feel it against my boots.
Varek’s voice carries from just beyond the open carriage door. “Be cautious in the lower pass, Prince Kaedryn. The Varrow have been bold along the southern roads.”
Kaedryn stills on the carriage step.
My brother’s tone remains pleasant, but something beneath it turns cold. “Our eastern friends have been stirring many old hungers. I would hate for my sister’s journey to be interrupted by something so unfortunate.”
Sylas mutters something under his breath that I do not catch. I keep my gaze on my lap.
Varrow.
I have heard the word in winter stories and servants’ warnings, always spoken softly and with fear. Creatures that hunt where old magic has soured. Things with hollow eyes and too many joints. Things that do not kill so much as drain.
It’s another danger on a road full of them. And it was one thing I did not consider when I fled.
Kaedryn’s voice lowers. “My escort can handle the pass.”
“I certainly hope so,” Varek says. “The Varrow are said to favor wounded magic.”
The words slide beneath my skin before I can stop them. Wounded magic. For one terrible second, I wonder if he means me.
Kaedryn pauses on the carriage step. He does not climb in. Instead, he turns back toward my brother, and though his voice stays pleasant, something underneath it has gone very cold.
“The Varrow favor the wounded,” he agrees. “So do wiser predators. But she travels under Elyrion’s protection now, and my house does not take her safety lightly.”
He lets that settle before he continues.
“You should hope she arrives in Elyrion in good health, Your Majesty. My father counts our alliance from the day she does. The East grows bolder every season, and Elyrion’s ships are the only thing standing between Dravaryn and a war it cannot win alone.
I would hate for anything—distance, misfortune, an old injury—to trouble a treaty your kingdom needs far more than mine. ”
Varek hesitates. “I pray you are as vigilant as you portray.”
Kaedryn smiles, and it is not a kind smile. “Safe winter, brother-in-law.”
I don’t understand what has just happened.
The words are polite. The tone is not. My brother’s face does not change, but I have spent my life reading the space behind his eyes, and something there has gone still, the way the air goes still before he decides someone will be punished.
I brace for it out of habit, though for once the anger is not aimed at me.
Kaedryn climbs in across from me. Sylas follows beside him. Outside, commands are given. Doors close. Harnesses creak. Wheels turn over frozen stone. Then, the carriage rolls beneath the archway and onto the road leading away from Dravaryn’s castle.
South. To Elyrion. To Prince Kaedryn’s kingdom and the life chosen for me after the one I tried to claim was taken away.
Across from me, the prince remains silent. So do I.
Snow taps softly against the carriage window, and I fold my hands, feeling the ache beneath my skin, the satchel against my feet, and my brother’s words settling over me like a chain long enough to cross kingdoms.
“You still belong to me.”
I close my eyes as the carriage carries me away.