Goodnight, Sera
SERAPHAE
The air in the wildlands changed during sixth bell. It was cool and filled with the scent of pine and wet earth.
It was never completely dark, even in the trees. The false moon that hung over the kingdom shone brighter than any real one ever could. The illumination was so intense it spread beyond the borders. Even in places like the wildlands where lanterns weren’t hung, one could still see.
According to Brie, Caelan had carefully designed it that way to maintain shadows and keep the kingdom from plunging into darkness. That was the reason she had told me. The intention I could guess myself.
Riven.
His fear of the dark. His use of shadows. It was all for him.
My boots crunched on twigs, breaking the silence of the forest. For once, noise was not my enemy.
Hiding was unnecessary because I intended to make myself known.
I thought about singing loudly, but I decided that the world had suffered enough.
My magic answered as I opened my palms, brightening my surroundings that didn’t really need brightening.
Xander had been right yet again.
Painting had not been a hobby for me. I took his advice and stuck to murder instead. Frankly, it was far more entertaining, and I was much better at it. Great exercise too. I heard it was good for the heart.
The sound of twigs snapping came from behind me. I did not stop and kept walking at the same pace. My hand had already been on my dagger.
It wasn’t long before it chose to strike. The sound of claws digging into dirt and fallen leaves for a lunge.
As soon as the air around me felt heavy, I spun. My dagger slashed upward from the center.
The bloated abdomen of the creature split open. Truly pungent contents spilled out onto the ground, but it did not slow.
It raised one of its razor-sharp arms—or perhaps it was a leg—and plunged it straight down. I pivoted in time to avoid being skewered, which would have been very difficult to explain to Xander.
I leaned left as another came down, spearing into the dirt. With my palm pressed into the ground for leverage, I swept my leg across two of the creature’s legs, hoping the thing would go down.
It did.
I spun and stabbed deep into…a section. Possibly important. It was difficult to tell at this point, given the creature ignored the concept of anatomy.
The loud shriek that came out of it confirmed that assumption.
I stabbed it again. And again. Then once more because I did not like doing things halfway.
By the time the curdling shrieks stopped, questionable contents had pooled around the creature. My cloak did not suffer. I couldn’t say the same about my boots.
I wiped my dagger against the velvety, hairy, difficult-to-describe part of the creature before sheathing it.
After catching my breath, I knelt down and grabbed a leg. My grip slipped, and I had to readjust to a part of the leg that wasn’t covered in whatever that was.
By the time I made it out of the trees, I had already gagged three times. I was unreasonably proud that I didn’t vomit.
There was an overwhelming feeling of being watched, and I stilled mid-drag. I exhaled a breath of relief when I spotted a pair of judgmental eyes.
Riven stood in the shadow of a nearby tree. Arms crossed. Looking at me as if he had many things to say but settled on none of them.
“Hello, Captain.”
I continued dragging.
He did not help.
When I glanced over my shoulder, he was behind me. Still keeping a careful distance.
The wall of a guard tower finally appeared in the distance, and I allowed myself a moment to rest. Breathing hard, I stared at the low wall, willing it to magically come closer.
It was still far enough that I reconsidered my life choice of hunting Hollow creatures.
Perhaps I could bring a rolling cart next time.
Riven materialized next to me.
I flinched.
He had the audacity to actually look a little amused by it.
His hand brushed mine as he reached down and grabbed the creature’s leg from me. Held my gaze the entire time. Long enough to suggest he was not thrilled about my new hobby or that he considered it incredibly stupid.
Possibly both.
“I’ve got it,” I said, even as I had already let go and was not resisting in the slightest.
He glanced at my hair. My hand went up to smooth some strands that had come out of my braid.
“Clearly,” he said flatly. Then he proceeded to drag the creature with impressive efficiency.
“Such a gentleman,” I teased.
A pause in his steps as he looked at me with absolute certainty. “I’m not.”
We kept walking.
“Why were you here?” I asked, keeping pace with him.
“I was in the area.”
“Doing what?”
“Walking.”
“Have you been watching me the whole time?” I asked instead.
There was a brief pause in his dragging.
“How long?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down at me before giving the creature a hard tug to bring distance between us again.
I closed it anyway.
We made it to the low wall, following it until we stood outside one of the guard towers.
Riven dropped the body right next to where a lantern hung on a rafter.
“Thank you,” I said when he turned toward me.
His chest rose and fell as he nodded once.
“Did you eat?” I hugged my arms when a breeze blew past. “Do you want to try my stew? I made it with the vegetables thrown at my house. It used to be criminal, but my cooking has improved enough to be called food now.”
He stared at me long enough that I thought I had said something wrong. Then his lip twitched once before he turned away. The shadow made it worse. The deepening dimple was obvious on his cheek.
“Are you—” I stepped forward. “Are you laughing at me?”
The dimple disappeared.
He turned back to look at me, stoic again. “No.”
I frowned.
He nodded toward the general direction of my cottage.
“Let’s get you back.”
We didn’t speak again as he walked with me back to my cottage.
When it came into view, Riven was at least two steps behind.
His eyes left whatever he was looking at to look at me instead.
“It was nice, you know,” I told him, turning forward again as we crossed into the main road.
“What’s nice?”
“Your smile.”
“I wasn’t smiling.”
“A shame, then.” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “I thought you were quite handsome.”
He stared at me unflinchingly, then looked at the trees with great focus.
I grinned.
We continued walking.
When I reached my door and had turned to say goodnight, he was already gone.
I took a long bath to scrub off the entire night, and I still felt like I smelled the creature.
When I emerged with skin nearly raw, I changed into a nightgown and made myself a late-night meal.
My cottage smelled of stew and not the experimental tragedy. It wasn’t amazing, but it was good enough to be called food.
I sat there in the kitchen eating my bowl and looked around.
This was how my life would look if I were south. A cottage of my own. Me, sitting here with something that I had made, chickens in the yard somewhere.
Quiet.
Free.
I finished the entire bowl and went to the counter for a bottle of wine. Then I made for the front door. The cool night breeze kissed my overheated skin from that hot bowl of soup. I looked up at the ledge of the roof, tucked the bottle against my breast, and hauled myself up.
I froze midway, arms burning, bottle digging into my cleavage, and stared at a pair of black boots.
Riven looked down at me. Then to the bottle at my chest. And looked very pointedly at a distance behind me. He did not offer his hand.
I pulled myself the rest of the way with as much grace as possible, which wasn’t much. Swung my knee over and crawled onto the tiles. Cursed twice. Groaned once. Then pulled the bottle out of my dress.
“Could’ve helped, you know,” I said.
“Didn’t think you’d want me to,” Riven replied, still not looking at me.
“True.”
I uncorked the bottle and took a drink before handing it to him.
He took it and finally looked at me.
I couldn’t help the smile.
It didn’t surprise me that Riven was on the roof. What surprised me more was the fact that it didn’t surprise me. I didn’t ask why he was up here. I already knew.
“You could’ve just accepted my invitation for stew,” I said.
“I ate.”
He handed the bottle back to me. I took a sip.
“Is this where you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” I looked at him. He still didn’t look at me. “On my roof?”
“No.”
Disappointment tugged at me when I realized I was wrong.
“Sometimes it’s the trees,” he deadpanned.
My mouth turned up first, then I laughed.
He watched me for a moment and then turned the other way.
“I used to do this with Xander.” I took a drink and looked out at the tree line. “Back in Blackwater Cape. We used to just sit on top of the roof and drink. We would watch the streets below us. If we were lucky, we’d even get some entertainment.”
Comfortable silence fell over us.
“Were you happy?” he asked.
I glanced at him, surprised he was initiating a conversation.
He was watching me as if he was searching for the answer before I even said it.
I thought of Blackwater Cape. The life that I had then.
It was straightforward. It wasn’t what I wanted, but there was structure.
I knew what I needed to do, what was expected of me.
I knew what I was working toward and how to get there.
But I wasn’t happy. I didn’t laugh the way I did during my time here.
“No,” I answered.
“Will you be happy south?”
I thought of my days at the estate. With Caelan. The easy smiles that came with it. I was happy then. Genuinely happy in a way that I had never been. I wouldn’t have that in the south. Not anywhere.
I smiled, but answered, “No.”
We both looked back at the trees then.
“Did you know that my whole life, I’ve always thought freedom was what would make me happy?
” I said, pressing my fingers into the cool tile beneath us.
“And now that I think about it, the happiest I’ve ever been was being bonded to a prince.
Being forced into a role I never asked for.
” I turned to Riven. He was watching me.
“And suddenly freedom wasn’t a thing I ever thought about.
Not when I’m with him. Not when I’m with you. Or Maelor. Or Brie.”
Freedom was never what I needed. I needed a place to belong, and I had found it here in Twilight.
I tried to swallow the ache in my chest. It didn’t help.
Riven didn’t say anything. His dark eyes only scanned my face before a corner of his lip lifted. Then he gave me something I’d never thought him capable of. A real smile. A curved mouth with deepened dimples.
I couldn’t look away. Not until he did.
We drank in silence the way we did back at Caelan’s estate.
Just two people on a roof.
We finished the bottle at seventh bell.
Riven lingered at the front of my door when we hopped down together.
Wine was warm in my belly. My mind pleasantly blurred.
He looked at me like I was something fragile. Like he wanted to reach out and stop the pieces from breaking.
“I’m okay,” I told him even though he didn’t ask. “I’m stronger than you think.”
His eyes shifted before softening. Barely noticeable. Then he nodded.
We stood there for another moment, staring at each other. I felt like I needed to fill the silence before he spoke.
“Goodnight, Sera,” he said finally.
“Goodnight, Riven,” I replied.
I held his gaze for another moment and walked inside.
I crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling.
I had thought that freedom was what I wanted all along. I had spent my life trying to get there. But the happiest I had been was when I lacked it the most. And now that I was here, getting a taste of what quiet would have been, I had never felt so hollow.
Freedom wasn’t what I had needed. What I had needed was somewhere that I could belong.
And with Caelan, Maelor, Riven, and Brie, I felt like I belonged.
Belonging wasn’t to a place, but to a group of people that made you feel seen.
Even though I was banished from Primoria, it didn’t mean I could never see them again.
Even if Primoria would never accept Caelan and me, friendship wasn’t forbidden.
I could stay here, close enough to still exist in a small part of their lives.
Tonight felt like the first night that I could actually fall asleep. Instead of lying here, wondering if I had made a mistake and thinking about what could’ve been.
It was quiet, too quiet. The shutters no longer rattled even as a breeze blew past, as if magically fixed.
For once, I felt optimistic about moving forward.
I was just beginning to fall asleep when I heard a creak on the floorboards.
My dagger was in my hand in a second, and I was sitting. The room tilted just slightly from wine and movement my equilibrium didn’t agree with.
Riven stood at the corner of my room, shadows still clinging to his skin.
“Caelan is on the way,” he said.
Before I could ask him why, he spoke again.
“It was Mallas.”