32. Kaedryn #2
For the first time since she entered Elyrion, something in her face changes. Interest. Quiet, cautious, but real. “No,” she says. “Only in paintings.”
Sylas smiles. “Paintings make them look more delicate than they are. They are vain, clever, and capable of holding grudges longer than most nobles.”
One of the pegasi’s ear twitches.
Adelina’s fingers loosen slightly on the satchel. “They are beautiful.”
“They know.”
Her eyes stay on the window as the coach begins to roll. “Are they common here?”
“Not common, but not mythical. Elyrion has bred and bonded with them for centuries. They do not choose riders the way unicorns are said to, but they do choose who they tolerate.”
A faint line appears between her brows. “What happens if they do not tolerate someone?”
“They bite.”
Her eyes widen, and Sylas laughs. “Only if deserved. Usually.”
The ghost of a smile touches her mouth again. It disappears when she realizes I’m looking.
I look away first, though it costs me.
The coach reaches the flight terrace, and the pegasi break into a run. The wheels rattle over stone, then the whole carriage lifts as their wings open in perfect sequence. Air drops beneath us. Adelina inhales sharply and braces one hand against the wall.
“First time in a flying coach?” Sylas asks.
She nods.
He keeps his voice easy. “The first rise feels strange. It steadies once we catch the upper current.”
The coach tilts slightly as the pegasi climb.
Through the window, the harbor falls away, ship masts shrinking beneath us, the sea spreading wide and blue beyond the cliffs.
Elyrion’s coast opens in layers of green mountains, crystal rivers cutting through valleys, white roads winding between forests and stone villages.
Compared to Dravaryn’s harsh gray, it must look unreal.
Adelina’s gaze remains fixed outside. Her face does not relax, but she watches.
We fly inland for several hours, following the royal road through the air while the ground below rises and falls in forested ridges.
The motion of the coach is smoother than wheels over stone, but not still.
Now and then, a crosswind nudges us, or a pegasus adjusts its wingbeat, and the carriage sways.
Each time, Adelina grips the satchel harder and her body tenses, but she does not make a sound.
Sylas does most of the speaking. He points out the river that feeds the lower lakes, the watchtowers built into the cliffs, the far ridgeline where the castle road splits from the military route.
He tells her which flowers bloom along the lower valleys in spring and which fruits she will find in the castle orchards.
She listens the way she did in the carriage before the attack, absorbing everything and offering little. A question here. A single word there. Enough to be polite.
I let it continue because she answers him without fear coiling through every syllable, and I have no right to resent that. Still, by late afternoon, the silence between us grows too large to ignore.
“We have one more night on the road,” I say.
Adelina’s attention turns from the window to me. The movement is wary.
“We will stay at a royal estate near the lake pass,” I continue. “It’s controlled by Elyrion, not a political household. We will reach the castle tomorrow.”
She lowers her eyes. “I understand, Your Highness.”
The title scrapes over already raw nerves. “Do not address me so formally.” The words come out sharper than I intend.
Her hands tighten on the satchel. Sylas turns his head slowly toward me with an expression warns me to tread carefully. I ignore him, because apparently I have learned nothing.
“We’re betrothed,” I say, forcing my voice lower. “And we are equals.”
Adelina looks genuinely confused, as if I have said something in a language she nearly understands but cannot quite translate.
Sylas, thank the stars, steps in before my frustration can ruin the moment further. “Technically, you are crown princess of your birth kingdom. Your brother has no children, which makes you heir presumptive under Dravaryn succession law.”
Adelina’s face drains of color. “We don’t talk about that,” she says.
The words are so quiet I barely hear them over the beat of wings outside.
Sylas leans in. “Why not?”
“It upsets the queen.”
There it is. Four words, and an entire kingdom’s poison sits inside them. It upsets the queen. The truth displeases Selvara, so the truth is not spoken.
I feel my anger rise again, but this time it is not aimed at Adelina. “It does not change the truth,” I say.
Her gaze flicks to me, then away.
“You curtsy to the kingdom’s king and queen,” I continue, choosing each word carefully now. “You do not kneel to me. Do you understand?”
She draws back again. For a heartbeat, she only looks at her hands. The bond tugs at me, and in that moment, I want nothing more than to have those hands on me. I want to tell her I will give her a reason to kneel, and it has nothing to do with pain, only pleasure.
Then she says, “As you wish, Your Highness.”
The title hits like a closed door. My temper snaps before I can fully catch it. “My name is Kaedryn.”
She flinches. I hate myself for causing it and hate the helplessness that follows because the words are already spoken.
She looks down again. “Forgive me.”
“Do not…” I stop, jaw clenched, because do not apologize is still an order, and I’m suddenly, bitterly aware of how many of my words come shaped like commands.
The coach sways gently beneath us. Sylas watches me with the expression of a man ready to kick me if necessary.
I breathe once. Then again. “If you are determined to be stubborn,” I say, colder than I mean to sound, “then perhaps we will keep to formalities in this relationship.”
Her shoulders draw in more. She nods. “As you wish.” No argument. No correction. No sign that she understands I said it because I was frustrated, not because I wanted another wall between us.
Every wall in her life has been built by someone else and then called protection.
Sylas shifts beside me, but for once he does not speak. Maybe there is nothing to salvage. Maybe he knows that any attempt to walk my words back now will only make me look more unstable, more changeable, more like a man whose temper decides what is true from one breath to the next.
Adelina turns back toward the window.
The pegasi carry us over a green valley washed in late afternoon light. Below, a river flashes silver through the trees. Ahead, the royal estate waits near the lake pass, white walls and emerald roofs set against forested cliffs.
My kingdom is opening beneath her.
Beautiful.
Orderly.
Mine to protect.
And across from me sits the woman I’m supposed to welcome, clutching the last pieces of her old life in both hands while I teach her, badly, that my anger can still change the air around her.
The pull beneath my ribs has gone quiet, almost cautious.
But the road ends tomorrow. She walks into my court as my betrothed, every eye in Elyrion on the bride the Shadow Prince carried home from the north. One night left, and then I have to decide what kind of man I mean to be when those gates open.
I am not certain it will be a better one than the one she already fears.