The road to Gravis is long, winding, and uneventful—if not for the unsettling silence that blankets it. Dreary travel for days upon days.
I sit inside the carriage with Malexis, the maid assigned to me for the journey. She's timid, pale-faced, and speaks only when spoken to—and even then, only in one-word answers. I miss Friya's chatter. I miss her terrible jokes and the way she always had extra pastries tucked into her apron.
Unfortunately, Friya couldn't come because "traveling doesn't suit her"—a polite way of saying she gets motion sickness.
Malexis sits stiffly across from me, hands folded in her lap, eyes trained on the passing scenery. I tried to make conversation earlier—asked where she was from, what she thought of Gravis—but all I got was, "South," and, "It's nice."
So, I've given up.
The days crawl by at the pace of a dying snail. The wheels clatter over every stone and rut in the road, and my only distraction is the occasional glimpse of Kaelen outside the window. He rides beside the carriage, flanked by guards. His back is straight, posture perfect, gaze distant.
But he never looks in.
Not once.
Even when I lean closer to the window. Even when I linger in the doorway of the inn at our mid-journey stops, hoping he'll say something. Anything. A joke. A nod. A glance.
Nothing.
At one point, I hear his voice—low and clipped—speaking with Harlin a few paces behind the caravan. I can't make out the words, but I know that tone. Strategic. Measured. Guarded. But over the clacking of the carriage and the clip-clop of hooves, I can't decipher anything.
So I sit. And wait. And seethe.
---
On the last night of travel, the inn is warm, but I feel cold.
My chamber is better than expected—clean linens, a blazing hearth, even a bowl of hot broth waiting on the table. Malexis helps me out of my cloak and lays out my nightdress in silence. She curtsies and retreats to the adjoining room.
I don't eat. I don't undress.
Instead, I pace.
The click of my boots against the wooden floor is the only sound in the room. Outside, I hear the faint laughter of soldiers, the stomping of hooves in the stable. Somewhere below, someone sings off-key.
Still... no Kaelen.
I snap.
I throw open the door and storm down the narrow hallway and stairs, ignoring the startled looks from a pair of guards as I pass. I find Kaelen in the common room, sitting at a table with Harlin, maps unfurled between them. They stop talking the moment they see me.
"May I speak with you?" I ask, my voice tight.
Harlin clears his throat and bows. "My lady," he murmurs, already rising.
"No need for titles," I say, eyes locked on Kaelen. "I'm just his traveling burden, after all."
Kaelen rises slowly. "Nyriane—"
"Privately."
He leads me outside, past the torch-lit courtyard and into the shadows beside the stables. The night air is sharp. The stars unusually clear. I wrap my arms around myself and turn to him.
"I know you're hiding something," I say, voice flat. "And I find it insulting."
His brows lift. "Insulting?"
"Yes." I meet his gaze, unflinching. "You brought me on this journey. You asked me to come. And now you won't even look at me, let alone speak to me. You whisper with Harlin, avoid eye contact, and pretend I'm not here. Why bother asking me to come at all?"
Kaelen is silent for a beat too long. Then, quietly, "You think I'm avoiding you?"
"I know you are." I step forward. "And I know whatever you're discussing isn't just grain distribution."
The muscle in his jaw ticks. He looks away, toward the dark hills beyond the road. "There are things I can't tell you."
I nod, the ache behind my eyes sharpening. "Then don't insult me by pretending it's something noble. Just admit what this is."
"And what is this, exactly?"
I exhale. "You don't trust me."
His eyes snap back to mine. "It's not about trust."
"Then what, Kaelen? Pity? Guilt? Politics?"
He steps closer. "It's about protection."
I laugh—sharp and bitter. "From what? The truth?"
He doesn't answer.
The silence that follows is heavy. But this time, it means something.
Finally, he speaks. "There are matters in motion, Nyriane. Things that... concern your brother, but also others. It's too early to say more, but you have to trust me."
I stare at him. "Then why bring me?"
He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The touch is feather-light.
"Because I want to protect you," he says quietly. "And because... I wanted you here with me."
His words twist something inside me. I hate how much I want to believe him.
"But you say that without looking me in the eyes," I whisper, shaking my head. "What am I supposed to make of that?"
Kaelen steps closer again, slowly this time. Guarded. He doesn't reach for me.
"I want to tell you everything, Nyriane. I truly do. But the more I hear, the more I believe you're better off not knowing."
"You mean you'll keep avoiding me. Acting like I don't exist. Too guilt-ridden to face me."
"That," he says, grabbing my chin and tilting it upward, "I can change."
And then he kisses me.
Not softly. Not tenderly.
He crashes into me like a man starved. Ferocious. Desperate. My body responds before I can think—I fist his hair, pull him closer, and he groans into my mouth. His hands roam, bold and urgent. One squeezes my breast, the other grasps my hip with bruising force.
It's overwhelming.
Frightening.
Exhilarating.
I break away, breathless, stumbling back. I expect anger. Disappointment. But Kaelen just exhales and drags a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.
"I went too far, didn't I?" he mutters, rubbing his face. "I was afraid this would happen."
"No. It's not that. I'm just..." I swallow. "Not ready. Yet."
He nods, expression unreadable. "Still. I should've been more careful."
He reaches out again, gently fixing my hair. That's when I realize I'm a mess—hair tousled, clothes rumpled, lips undoubtedly swollen.
"How am I supposed to go back inside like this? What will the innkeepers, the maids, your men think?"
Kaelen shrugs. "What they already thought back at Aureliath."
It's no secret we'd grown close. The house staff had witnessed our "closeness" more than once. But here—at an inn—this is a different kind of embarrassment.
"Most of them are already asleep," Kaelen says with a soft laugh. "You should go up. I'll be with you soon."
The question is stuck in my throat, but he answers it anyway.
"I'll join you in the carriage tomorrow," he says. "I'm yours. All day."
I don't think. I leap into his arms, grabbing him around the neck. Kaelen laughs and twirls me around like I weigh nothing.