47. Kaedryn #2
The shadows at my feet stop moving. “What do you mean?”
His face changes, not with triumph, but with grief. “We have seen it before.”
I know before he says more. I do not want him to say more.
He does. “Prisoners who have no hope do not always try to escape. Sometimes they stop eating. Sometimes they stop sleeping. Sometimes they sit exactly where they are told to sit and wait for their bodies to fail because death looks less frightening than another day in the room they cannot leave.”
My throat closes around a response that does not come.
Sylas steps closer, voice low. “I see it in her.”
“No.”
“You have guards down the hall, shadows on her wrist, and now a rehearsal where everyone will smile and pretend all of this is normal. You have taken the garden, the letters, the right to choose a cup of tea. And whether you meant to or not, you destroyed the one living thing she had for herself.”
I look away first. Sylas lets the silence hold for one breath, then another.
When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “Mother was pulling her out of that shell. Slowly, yes, but she was. Adelina smiled in the garden, Kaedryn. I saw Mother afterward. I have not seen her that pleased with anything since before Evander died.”
Evander’s name moves through the room like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.
My chest pulls tight.
Sylas lowers his voice, but not his force. “Now Adelina is empty. Exactly like Dravaryn taught her to be. She refuses to make decisions because, in her words, her decisions have consequences.”
I hear Adelina’s voice from a week ago.
“I am sorry.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I understand.”
Not anger. Not accusation. Obedience so perfect it felt like a door closing.
“I’m keeping her alive,” I say.
“Are you?”
My gaze snaps to his.
He does not flinch. “You are keeping her breathing,” he says. “That is not always the same thing.”
The words hit hard enough that I cannot answer. Then I do what I have always done when truth threatens to become unbearable.
I reach for necessity.
“The attestation proceeds. The rehearsal proceeds. The wedding proceeds tomorrow. This alliance cannot fracture because Adelina is afraid, because Varek is cruel, or because I feel guilty.”
Sylas watches me for a long moment. When his anger leaves, disappointment replaces it. “You are going to lose her before you ever have her.”
My shadows flare despite my control.
Sylas does not move.
“Leave,” I say.
He inclines his head, not in obedience, but in disappointment. “Of course, Your Highness.”
The title lands exactly where he means it to. He leaves before I can answer. For a long moment after the door closes, I stand alone in the dressing chamber and listen to the rain.
“Mother was pulling her out of that shell.”
I think of Adelina on the stairs, shadows around her wrists, her face emptied of everything but old survival. I think of the shadow bracelet coiled around her wrist, a mark I called protection because the alternative was admitting it was fear made visible.
She will adjust. She has to. Because if she doesn’t, then every choice I have made since that night becomes another harm done to her, another hand raised against her. The bond’s pull, the intense desire to ensure her safety, becomes the noose around her neck.
I turn from the mirror and leave to retrieve my betrothed.
The corridor outside Adelina’s rooms is quieter than the rest of the castle.
That has become the first thing I notice whenever I come here.
The hush. The absence of unnecessary servants.
The guards placed farther down the passage after my mother threatened to move them herself if I insisted on making Adelina’s door look like a prison cell.
The subtle ward work beneath the stone. The shadows woven into the corners.
Mine. Still mine.
I stop before the door and feel the bracelet answer from the other side. A faint pulse of shadow around Adelina’s wrist. She is inside, but the emptiness I once felt through the bond has flattened into almost nothing. Only the faint certainty that she is breathing remains.
I almost remove the shadow from here. I could.
The shadow would answer. It would loosen, slide from her skin, return to me before she even knew I had called it back.
But then I tell myself the same thing I have told myself every morning since I placed it there.
Varek has already proven he can reach her.
She has already proven she will answer if he pulls the right string.
It has to stay.
I knock. Linnea opens the door. Her face loses color when she sees me, though she curtsies with perfect form. “Your Highness.”
The reaction irritates me before guilt can soften it. I do not want her afraid of me, but I have given her reason.
“Is Princess Adelina ready?”
Linnea hesitates. Every woman in Adelina’s rooms seems to have learned hesitation in my presence. That should please me, perhaps. Fear makes people careful. Tonight, it tastes foul.
“She is dressed,” Linnea says.
“Tell her I’m here.”
Linnea nods and shuts the door. The wait is brief. It still gives me too much time to hear Sylas.
“You are keeping her breathing. That is not always the same thing.”
The door opens. Linnea steps back. “Her Highness will receive you.”
I enter. Adelina stands near the window. The first thing I see is the bracelet.
Not the gown, though the gown is worth noticing.
Pale silver-blue tonight, modest, fitted carefully at the shoulders and throat, with embroidery so fine it catches the light only when she moves.
Her hair has been pinned in a soft crown around her head, a few silver strands left loose near her face. She should look like a future queen.
She looks like a sacrifice prepared beautifully enough to make the altar seem kind. The shadow bracelet circles her wrist like a bruise made elegant. Guilt rushes through me before I smother it.
Her hands fold over it, hiding it from me or hiding herself from it. Her posture is perfect. Her eyes lower the moment mine reach her face. “Your Highness.”
Dammit. We are still stuck on the title again. I want to hear her say my name even if I do not deserve it.
I take one step into the room. She does not flinch, which confirms everything Sylas said. She does not move because she has stopped believing she has a choice or that it matters.
“The witnesses are assembled,” I say.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“After the attestation, we will rehearse the marital rites in the ceremonial hall. My mother and Sylas will be there.”
A flicker touches her eyes. Something. Relief, perhaps. But then it’s gone. “That is nice. They have been very kind to me.”
I do not know why the words cut. Because they are true, perhaps. Because she can say them about them without fear of consequence. Because kindness is a thing she recognizes in other men and cannot yet attach to me.
“Do you understand what will be required?”
Her lashes lift a fraction, then fall. “Yes. I have studied the document the queen brought. I will affirm that I understand the marriage rites, that I enter them under Elyrion protection, and that upon completion of the vows, my public allegiance will be joined to this kingdom.”
She recites it perfectly. Of course she does.
My mouth goes dry. “This is standard for royal marriages across kingdoms.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“It is not meant to hurt you.” It’s a useless sentence.
Her face does not change. “I understand.”
I step closer, then stop when Linnea’s shoulders tighten near the dressing room. She is trying to appear invisible and failing through sheer protectiveness.
“Adelina.”
Her eyes rise just enough to obey without looking me directly in the eye.
“I know tonight is difficult.”
She blinks and her lip twitches before saying, “It is necessary.” It sounds like she is parroting my harsh words. I have given them to her often enough.
“Yes,” I say after a pause. “It is.”
The shadow bracelet shifts faintly when her fingers tighten. She glances down before she can stop herself.