I dressed in silence that morning, the plain wool of my tunic and cloak, dark brown fabric with travel boots. A far cry from the lavish gowns I had been wearing since the coronation. Since I became Queen.
Emelia moved quietly around the room, folding the last of my things into a travel satchel. She had braided my hair tightly beneath, you couldn't bathe everyday during travel so practicality was what mattered most. Gloves, a scarf, and the brittle weight of resolve.
Outside, the snow was all but gone, and the courtyard rang with the calls of stable hands and the clatter of hooves. The carriage waited at the gates, for me and Emelia. Kaelen would ride on horseback.
I descended the stairs with Emelia behind me, boots muffled on the stone steps. As we stepped into the courtyard, I spotted Kaelen, his black cloak stirring in the wind, wearing his armor the red-banded crest of the revolutionairies etched on his chest plate, iron fists in chains... He looked every bit the warlord—stern, tall, untouchable.
When he saw me, crossed the distance to the carriage in three strides. His hand extended toward me—not demanding, but steady. No hesitation this time as I placed my gloved fingers in his.
His hand tightened, just briefly.
"I'll hold on to my word," he said quietly, low enough that only I could hear. "You'll speak to your brother. But don't mistake this for surrender. I'll still do what's best for the kingdom. Keep your expectations low."
I met his eyes. "I don't expect miracles, Kaelen. I only need to try. For my own peace."
His mouth pressed into a line, unreadable as ever, and then he helped me into the carriage.
Emelia climbed in after me and shut the door. As the latch clicked into place and the horses started forward, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The wheels began to turn, crunching softly over the half-frozen road.
At first, it was quiet. The forest on the edge of Caerthrone fell away behind us, replaced by wide fields still clinging to frost. But as we passed into the outer villages, I noticed the people gathering—at crossroads, outside inns, beside markets. They stood in cloaks and shawls, red-nosed and wide-eyed. Some raised their hands in cautious waves. Others cheered, evenk louder when they saw my carriage pass.
It startled me.
"They're cheering," I said, peering through the slit in the curtain.
Emelia leaned over to look. "They are. Look there—by the mill. They're waving at the carriage."
The sound of hooves clattered behind us as Kaelen's riders kept pace, but it was clear the villagers weren't cheering for them.
Emelia smiled, soft and curious. "They say it's a love match."
I blinked. "What?"
"Oh yes," she said with relish. "Rumors have been spinning faster than a loom. You, the beautiful captive princess, and him, the ruthless commander with a hidden heart. They say it was love at first sight. That you melted him with just one loving gaze."
I let out a sharp, dry laugh. "That couldn't be further from the truth."
Emelia shrugged, amused. "Maybe. But people like stories that give them hope. The idea that he showed you the revolution's justice, and you showed him mercy. That even war couldn't stop love."
"Let them write their songs," I muttered. "We both know it's nonsense."
She was quiet a moment, then said softly, "Sometimes people fall in love after marriage too, you know."
I turned to look at her, surprised.
She didn't elaborate. Just leaned back against the velvet seat, watching the trees blur past as the carriage rolled on.
I didn't answer Emelia, but her words stayed with me, lingering like the aftertaste of a strong tea.
Sometimes people fall in love after marriage too.
My gaze drifted to the window again, but the cheering had faded behind us now. The trees grew closer together, their trunks bare and black, cutting lines through the pale haze of morning. Silence filled the carriage once more—comfortable, but heavy.
My thoughts wandered, uninvited, back to Craven Fenwyn's funeral.
"Princess, I'm going to offer you my hand,"
"I need you to take it."
At the time, I thought he wanted to parade me as a conquest and resented him for it. But then I remembered something else.
"Let the crowd in after we're seated,"
He'd told the priests not to let anyone in until we were seated. Not until I was safely inside. Not until the eyes had somewhere else to look. And when we had walked together—his fingers tense against mine—he'd kept his body angled slightly in front of me, as though shielding me.
Was he protecting me?
He hadn't needed to. I was the daughter of the man his people hated, the symbol of a dynasty they fought to destroy. Yet over and over again, he had chosen restraint.
He could have imprisoned me in a cell instead of a furnished room. Could have mocked me instead of giving my father a proper burial. Could have sent Emelia away even after he knew I used Friya as a means to escape. Could have punished me for my escape. Could have left me to fever and pain.
But he didn't.
And not once had he ever called me a traitor.
I pressed my gloved hand to the cold glass of the window, watching the forest slip by. The day I asked him about being so lenient towards me comes to mind. His words bite at my skin.
"You're consuming me—and I can't let that happen."
"You make me feel—things I didn't know I was capable of feeling,"
"Like I have a heart. One I thought I didn't even possess."
My breath constricts just at the thought, the fire that was burning in his eyes... could it have been desire? Or something more? I quickly shake the thought. It would be foolish to think of it.
My thoughts shifted, drawn now to the people we had passed. Their faces were fuller than I remembered from the old capital. Their coats thicker. The children laughed freely. Their homes, though humble, looked mended and clean. It was not the shattered realm I had been told about.
The stories from my childhood echoed in my mind—of revolutionaries living like rats in broken cities, fighting among themselves, letting the land rot under their chaos. But that wasn't what I had seen.
I thought of the bustling markets in Caerthrone, the paved roads, the efficient grain storage, the clinics Kaelen had quietly funded, the way the guards bowed not only to nobility, but to elders and midwives alike.
They live better now than they did under Grandfather.
The realization struck hard and cold. I had grown up believing the Starwyns were the only line capable of order. But what if… what if we had been the architects of their suffering all along?
What other lies had I been fed?
I thought of Saelow. Brave, loyal, so certain of our cause. He had carried our father's banners into battle. Would he believe me if I told him what I'd seen? Would he let himself believe it?
Or has he been led astray, just as I was?
I shut my eyes for a moment and leaned back against the seat, the rhythm of the wheels rocking me like a tide. My heart was full of questions. And I feared the answers would only come at great cost.
By twilight, the light was waning, the sky bruising at the edges. The roads had grown slushy with half-melted snow, slowing the horses' pace. Kaelen rode up beside the carriage, exchanging a few clipped words with the lead rider. Moments later, the carriage turned off the main road, gravel crunching beneath the wheels.
We stopped outside a modest roadside inn nestled between frost-covered trees. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the carved sign above the door—The Winking Pint—swayed gently in the wind.
Kaelen opened the carriage door himself. "We'll rest here for the night. Belwyth is still half a day away."
I gathered my cloak and stepped down with his help. Emelia followed close behind, yawning into her sleeve.
Inside, the warmth hit me like a wave. The inn's hearth blazed, casting golden light over wooden beams and worn rugs. A few travelers sat scattered at tables, their mugs steaming, their boots drying near the fire.
The innkeeper greeted Kaelen and I with a deep bow and bustled to prepare rooms. But when the keys were presented, Kaelen returned only one to his hand.
"We have prepared a room for the both of you," he said, turning to me. "Its at the far end of the hallway, best for privacy plus it's the best room we have"
"Thank you, kind sir" his smile grew hearing my words.
"We had heard the new Queen was kind but it is very comforting to see it for ourselves." He says bowing one last time before leaving.
Emelia came up to me "Don't look so confused. Poor man probably expected a snob"
My expressions falter, is my face that readable?
"Emelia you'll be in the upstairs loft with the other maids. Guard posted below." Kaelen told her to which Emelia left with a bow.
We climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor. The room was a medium sized, a large bed lined with all kinds of furs, a fire already crackling in the hearth. A basin of water and a plate of bread and cheese had been laid out, along with a bottle of red wine and two cups.
Kaelen set his sword and gloves aside near the door, then went to warm his hands by the fire. I moved to the bed and sat down.
For a time, neither of us spoke.
Then, his voice cut through the silence. "Nyraine, there's still time. If you think what you saw that day at Caerthrone was bad... I can still send you back"
I looked up, surprised. "I'm not the one second guessing here, do you not trust me to be able to handle it?"
He didn't answer right away. The firelight painted soft amber shadows across his face.
"It's not about trust," he said at last. "There are some things you can't unsee"
I smiled faintly. "What doesn't kill you just makes you stronger."
A pause.
Then he poured two cups of wine and crossed the room to hand me one. I took it, our fingers brushing. He sat on the edge of the bed facing me, not close but not far.
"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured. "I want peace. But not at the cost of Velmoria's future."
"I know," I said, staring into the wine. "And I still have to try. Even if it fails, I need to see my brother again. I need to know there's even a sliver of a chance to end this peacefully."
His gaze dropped to the cup in his hands. "Just don't expect him to be unchanged. War shapes us all."
I nodded. "I know. I just hope it hasn't hardened him past recognition."
We fell into silence again. The fire popped and crackled, filling the space between us.
Eventually, Kaelen stood and crossed to the window, peering into darkness.
"You should sleep," he said. "We ride at first light."
He didn't undress, only removed his boots and draped his cloak over the chair. I did the same, wrapping myself in the thick wool blanket as I lay on my side of the bed.
But long after the fire died down, I remained awake, staring at the ceiling beams above me, listening to his slow, steady breathing coming from besides me.
"Kaelen" I murmur softly
"Hmm" he says clearly awake
"Will you hold me?"