35. Kaedryn #2
If Adelina were violated under Elyrian protection before the wedding, Dravaryn could claim dishonor.
If she defended herself and killed or wounded an Elyrian guard, they could claim instability.
If she disappeared, they could claim negligence.
If she broke, they could claim mistreatment.
Every road seems designed to lead back to Northern outrage and Southern blame.
“She is a trap,” I say quietly.
Sylas looks at me. “She is a woman.”
I drag a hand through my hair, gripping the strands at the back of my head for one breath before letting go. “She is a woman being used as a trap by her own fucking brother,” I say.
Merritt grunts. “Better.”
Barely.
The estate steward approaches warily to inform us the coaches are ready. He looks pale enough to suggest he has spent the morning deciding whether he will be imprisoned, executed, or merely ruined. Perhaps all three remain possible.
“Your Highness,” he says. “The princess’s carriage waits.”
“Then we leave now.”
He bows and retreats.
I go upstairs because I will not send someone else this time.
Kellan stands outside Adelina’s door, straight-backed, both hands visible, his posture itself an apology. He starts to bow when he sees me, but I shake my head once.
I pause before I knock, looking to my brother. “How is she?”
“She’s calm,” he says.
“That is not the same as well.”
“No.”
“Will she speak to me?”
His expression answers before his words do. “She will answer you.”
Another blade.
“Is she afraid of me?”
“Do you want the honest answer or the answer that allows you to keep standing like that?”
I look at him.
He doesn’t look away. “Yes.”
I nod once. It is what I expected. “I need to tell her we are leaving.”
“She knows.”
“I need to tell her myself.”
Sylas studies me for a long moment, then steps aside. “Do not command her unless someone is actively trying to kill her.”
“I heard Maelin too.”
“Good. Try remembering.”
I enter.
Adelina stands near the window, dressed for travel in the same pale blue gown and cloak, her satchel held in both hands. She looks composed. Perfectly so. Too perfectly. Her hair has been braided over one shoulder, and her face is pale but dry. No tears. No shaking. No visible panic.
If I had not seen her shaking in my arms earlier, if I had not seen her with the knife, if I had not heard her apologize for defending herself, I might think she was only tired.
I know better now. That knowledge does not feel like wisdom. It feels like a debt.
Her eyes lift to mine, then lower at once.
I keep my hands at my sides. “The coaches are ready,” I say.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The title lands, but I let it.
“Given what happened, we need to reach the castle before evening. There will be better security there, and better resources for Maelin and Soren.”
She nods. “I’m ready.”
I take a breath, slow enough to keep my voice even. “No estate guards will come near you. My men will remain with the carriage. Kellan will ride beside your window. Sylas will ride inside if you prefer. I will remain with you.”
Her eyes flick toward Sylas, then back to the floor. “I will do as you think best.”
That is not a preference. But forcing one from her now would only turn choice into another test.
“Sylas will ride with us,” I say.
She nods again.
I can feel Sylas’s stare burning into the side of my face. I ignore him.
“May I take my bag?” she asks. The question is so faint I almost do not hear it.
Then I understand she is holding her satchel because she expected someone to take it.
Something sharp twists beneath my ribs. “Yes,” I say, and then, because yes alone seems too small, “It’s yours.”
Her fingers curl around the strap, and a flicker of relief passes over her face.
I step back and gesture toward the door, then remember too late that gesturing for her to go first may feel like being watched from behind, cornered by men in a hall. I move ahead instead, stopping outside the door, leaving her a clear path.
Sylas falls in beside her at a deliberate distance.
Kellan straightens when she emerges.
His eyes drop briefly to the satchel, then away, and when he speaks, his voice is low and earnest. “Princess.”
She looks at him cautiously.
“I will ride at your side,” he says. “No one will approach your window without passing me first.”
For a moment, I think she will only nod. Then she whispers, “Thank you.”
Kellan’s face almost breaks. He bows, then turns quickly toward the stairs before emotion can make him useless.
We guide her out through the rear entrance rather than the main hall.
No staff line the walls this time. No estate steward performs concern.
No curious servants are permitted close enough to stare.
The late morning light is bright over the terrace, the lake below gleaming beneath drifting mist, the pegasi shifting in their harnesses with restless, feathered power.
Adelina slows when she sees them again.
One of the lead pegasi turns its head toward her, nostrils flaring. It is a mare named Lyreth, white with silver-gray along her wings, clever and vain enough to know when she is admired. She steps once toward the carriage, the handler murmuring a warning, then extends her nose.
Adelina goes still.
Wonder touches her face so faintly that I nearly miss it.
Lyreth exhales against the air near her hand.
Adelina does not reach out, though she wants to. I almost tell her she may. The words rise and die because my voice has ruined enough small things already.
Sylas, damn him, says something instead. “She likes you.”
Adelina’s eyes widen. “She does?”
“She has excellent taste and terrible manners.”
The pegasus snorts.
A small sound leaves Adelina, a giggle perhaps.
It’s close enough that every man on that terrace pretends not to hear it.
For one impossible moment, the morning is only that: a wounded woman, a vain pegasus, sunlight on white stone, and a sound that suggests Adelina might not be lost entirely beneath everything done to her.
Then the moment passes.
She draws her hand back without touching the mare and climbs into the coach with Sylas’s help.
The coach lifts into the air minutes later, escorted by four winged guards, with the prisoner carriage guarded behind. We do not take the slower ground route now. I will not spend another night outside the castle walls after what happened beneath a royal roof under my protection.