The Quiet
SERAPHAE
Ihad decided that I did not enjoy quiet.
Xander had been right, and I wanted to punch him for it.
It had been only two days since I left Twilight.
Riven had found a place in the wildlands. An abandoned cottage close to the Primorian border markings. The bond had allowed me to go deeper, but I had to stay as close as I could so that Riven could still get to me if needed.
I was apparently his responsibility now. No one had asked me about my thoughts on that. It had simply been arranged.
The cottage didn’t have the blue walls I wanted but beige ones.
What it had was a bedroom that locked. A dining table with two chairs by the stove.
A formal sitting room with a hearth and two large windows that overlooked the front of the house.
A kitchen made for actually cooking, which I would get around to learning.
Aliza came twice a day in the meantime. She was one of the estate’s kitchen servants. She would arrive at first bell with breakfast and lunch, then again before the sixth bell with dinner. Not once had I actually seen her. A basket would be left at my door. That was the extent of it.
I expected the first week to be the hardest.
The first night, I hadn’t slept.
Instead, I went into the wildlands and hunted the Hollow creatures that occasionally slipped through. They were excellent listeners. Briefly. Great for taking out frustrations on with their short lifespans and lack of opinions.
Last night, I felt like a part of me was missing.
I’d looked at the spot next to me and imagined Caelan there.
I thought about the time he had fallen asleep next to me as I was recovering from the Mirror Lake ambush.
Lips slightly parted, lashes dark against his cheeks, looking completely vulnerable.
He’d already been watching me when I woke with a smile on his face.
I tried not to think about it and listened to one of the shutters, loose at the hinge, rattling against wood with the wind instead. It was irritating enough to distract me from my thoughts. Though, it did nothing to help me sleep.
My bond with Caelan had been deepening. I experienced more of him than I had previously, which made trying not to think of him incredibly difficult.
Pain would explode in random parts of my body that I had done nothing to deserve.
It happened earlier when I was having lunch with Maelor and Brie. My fork had flown out of my grip when it felt like someone had taken a brick and smashed my hand with it.
“Caelan has been using the sparring post a lot to help with getting over you,” Maelor said factually, as if he were reporting rotations.
“That’s supposed to be effective?”
“Yes,” he answered. “He likes to punch things until they break so he can pretend it helped.”
Pain had always transferred, but now I was feeling other things that I hadn’t felt before.
Exhaustion, the subtle lurch of my stomach with anxiety that wasn’t mine.
Things that used to be too subtle to feel no longer were.
I wondered if he felt the ache in my chest whenever I looked up to that sky of his.
Brie had promised that things were better at the estate.
The council no longer breathed down his neck, and I had believed her.
The citizens realized the sky wasn’t falling and their ruler’s magic was under control.
And with the removal of the initial trigger—me—they felt safe enough to stop filing complaints.
I spent my time either lying around feeling sorry for myself or going on walks and feeling sorry for myself. The trees were particularly judgmental about it.
I was on my second walk of the day.
Summer had arrived with a vengeance. It was only second bell, and I was sweating. Though, it could also be due to the cloak I was wearing for reasons other than the weather. Not Caelan’s cloak. That one I kept in the back of the wardrobe. Cherished but buried.
A couple of Twilight citizens had found out where I lived by catching a glimpse of me when I was outside the cottage. Since then, I’d had eggs thrown at my window, potatoes, carrots, and once, a single shoe. I had wondered how the man walked home after that.
I plucked another powdery blue flower off the ground and tossed it into the basket hooked on my arm.
That was what I did now. Picked flowers to put in a vase I found in the shed behind the cottage.
I had also found a cracked terracotta pot.
That one I saved for veyras that would grow on the windowsill in the kitchen.
My dress clung to my sweaty back, and I pulled my hood up when the cottage came into view. Nothing to see here. Just a strange woman living in the middle of the woods holding a basket of wildflowers she picked and produce she found at her doorstep this morning. Definitely not in exile.
#
It was just past third bell when I got back to the cottage.
Xander was looking at my painting in front of the hearth. I removed my cloak and was just about to toss it on the ground when I noticed a hook on the wall. It definitely wasn’t there this morning.
“Did you install this?” I asked.
Xander looked at the hook. “I’m offended.”
I hung my cloak and decided not to question it.
“You’re back early.” I crossed the room to the kitchen.
Caelan sending Xander to investigate the kingdoms gave me weeks of peace. It saved me from having to explain why I drank wine like it was water required for survival.
“This painting looks like it committed crimes.” Xander turned it sideways. Then upside down. It was still tragic. “Did you paint this?”
“I did,” I said proudly. “I’ve been exploring new hobbies. Brie brought the supplies yesterday.”
He stared at me and said with sincerity, “Stick to murder.”
I placed my basket on the counter and started unloading the contents.
He moved to stand beside me. “Are those carrots?”
“Yes,” I replied. “And potatoes. Gifted by the citizens of Twilight.”
He stared at me and didn’t even blink.
“What?”
“What are you doing with those?” He poked at a potato like it might bite him.
I grabbed it before it rolled off the counter. “I’m going to make stew.”
He barked a laugh. “You don’t cook.”
“I can learn.”
He opened his mouth to say something, and I shoved an apple in it.
“So, what did you find out?” I pulled out a pot and filled it with water.
He took a bite of the apple and gave a nod of approval.
“Verdant and Crown had no record of approving any minting request. Tide Court did and was undocumented. Scandalous, really. The amount of undocumented trading their prince is conducting. But it’s all just for coin.
No hidden agenda of murdering family members. ”
“And Winter?” I glanced at him.
“Winter minted coins but documented them for military use.”
I took the carrots and chopped them into three pieces. “I heard Verdant has tightened its borders.”
Xander made a face at my carrots. “I heard rumors in the salons. Wine makes people have loose tongues and whatnot. They say Twilight might rebel.”
I dropped my potato.
“What?”
“Twilight might rebel,” Xander repeated casually while eating the last of the apple.
“Why do they think that?”
“Well, the rumors started earlier than that. But it’ll get worse because Caelan reinforced the borders. Restricting access for anyone who isn’t a Twilight citizen or who isn’t on authorized trade business. Stationing more soldiers on both sides.”
“When?”
He shrugged. “When you left, I suppose.”
Restricted border access prevented other kingdoms from crossing into Twilight to reach me on the other end. Dramatic, but I had learned that nothing Primoria or Caelan did was ever subtle.
I picked up my potato and threw it into the boiling pot of water with the carrots.
“He’s still protecting me.” I unwrapped a slab of meat and deliberately did not think about why.
Xander didn’t answer and watched me as I plopped the meat into the pot. He frowned, touched a finger to his chin.
“I don’t think that’s how you make stew.”
I ignored him.
He watched me as I cooked, and we stopped talking about politics altogether. Instead, he shared stories of his travels to all the kingdoms. Including unnecessary details about the talents of the women of each.
He was unfortunately right when the stew was finished. Calling it stew had been generous. It was more like a crime against vegetables. An experiment that should have remained theoretical.
Xander had left, and I was putting a kettle on the fire when someone pounded on the door.
My dagger was in my hand before I pulled open the door with more force than necessary. The very creative words that would have made Xander proud died in my throat as I stared at Maelor and Brie.
Maelor’s eyes flickered from my face to my dagger.
“Interesting way to greet your guests.”
Brie pulled me in for a hug, completely ignoring the sharp object in my hand.
I returned the embrace with one arm while the other, with the weapon, hung awkwardly at an angle beside me.
“I wasn’t really expecting you guys.” Brie’s dark waves filled my mouth as I spoke.
The early summer air and the scent of wet moss from the canal nearby entered the cottage with them.
Maelor was holding a basket of what looked like wine. He placed it on the counter before following Brie to the couch.
“We wanted to come earlier, but Maelor was busy training recruits,” Brie said, smoothing her skirt.
Maelor lifted his leg to prop it on the coffee table, but remembered a thing called manners and decided not to.
“There are carrots in front of your house,” he announced. “And potatoes too, I believe.”
I placed my dagger on the kitchen counter.
“It’s free groceries,” I said.
Brie turned toward me, mouth slackening.
I shrugged. “It’s fine.”
Maelor made a low rumble in his chest.
“Why did you turn away the guards Caelan sent?” Brie asked.
“Riven is enough.” I moved to the sink and filled a bowl with water. “And I can protect myself.”
I had taken out his guards and escaped his estate once. Keeping guards at my door wasn’t going to help the citizens accept me.
“Riven is at the estate during the day and is only here at night. The guards can stay during the day to stop the harassment at least.” Maelor offered.
I knew Riven had been close. I could feel it in the air, the subtle shift of magic. Once, I could have sworn he had been inside my room. When I looked over, there was nothing but shadows. The scent of him lingered, though.
“It’s gotten better.” I turned toward Maelor, leaning against the counter. “Eventually, they will find another scandal to focus on and forget I ever existed.”
I watered the small pot of veyras on the windowsill in the kitchen. An iridescent butterfly perched on the edge of the pot.
Maelor got up from the couch and moved to the two empty bottles of wine on the table I had forgotten to clear. He turned one in his hand, reading the label.
“How are you doing?” he said without looking up at me.
“Fine.”
“Sleeping well?”
“Maelor, I’m fine.”
He glanced up at me and made a thoughtful sound before putting the bottle down.
Brie watched me from the couch like a woman restraining the overwhelming need to lecture.
I shifted against the counter and pressed my thumb into the cold surface.
“How’s Caelan today?” I asked conversationally, my eyes dancing between them both.
They said nothing for a moment as if they weren’t sure how to answer or were fabricating a lie.
“Terrible,” Maelor said.
“Exhausting,” Brie said at the same time.
The words punched into my chest.
“His temper has been shorter than my patience. He does nothing but lock himself in the study or the library.” He nodded to the wine. “He’s almost coping as constructively as you are.”
I looked down at the floorboards and bit down on my tongue.
“We’re there for him,” Brie said. “Just like we’re here for you.”
“I know.”
My fingers traced the ink on my left arm. Still there, still reminding me that we were bonded.
Maelor followed my gaze.
“The bond will dissolve on its own once—” He gestured wildly at my arm. “You know.”
Once we were both willing.
Whenever that might be.
This wasn’t what Caelan wanted. He wanted to fight, to challenge his own council. I had wanted to stay. I still wanted to stay.
A part of me—the part that I didn’t want to admit—was holding onto the bond like a rope.
It was the only thing that stopped me from leaving and going south.
Once the bond was broken, I had no reason to stay.
Not in this cottage, not close to the borders, not anywhere near Caelan. Or Riven. Or Brie and Maelor.
I took a deep breath.
It might be a while until we were both willing.
Brie straightened, folding her hands on her lap. “Have you thought about letting Caelan come see you?”
“There’s no future for us, Brie.” I had rehearsed that same line in my head so many times that I felt almost detached as I said it.
She didn’t argue.
We spent the rest of the night talking about Brie’s complaint of rising silk prices and a scandal between a magistrate’s apprentice and a Winter delegate.
That night, I lay in bed and thought about Caelan again when it was quiet. The shutter had not made a sound. There was no creaking or rattling in the wind. Nothing to distract me from the thoughts.
So I lay there and welcomed it all.