CHAPTER FIVE

Neriah walked slowly beneath the grey sky, the hem of her gown grazing damp cobblestones, her hood drawn but loose. The scent of wet stone, old wood, and far-off hay settled thick around her — the scent of Halemond in the rain.

She needed to clear her thoughts. Or bury them. Whichever came first.

Her shoes made soft sounds as she rounded the courtyard and crossed beneath the western arch. She passed the old armory, its iron door sealed with rust, and descended the narrow path toward the stables. The breeze carried the distant, muffled sounds of the horses shifting in their stalls, snorting against the cold.

The stable doors loomed ahead. Slightly ajar.

Neriah slowed.

She didn't need to peek to guess what she might find within. But something made her keep walking.

Maybe she hoped to be wrong.

Maybe she wanted to be proven right.

She pressed her fingers to the edge of the door and pushed.

The wooden groan was low and deliberate.

Inside, the scent of musk and hay met her first — and then came the sound.

Soft gasps. Muffled laughter. Kisses.

There, half-shadowed in torchlight, stood Kara — pressed against the side stall wall — her bodice tugged low, her thigh exposed where the skirts had been shoved, and her lips tangled with a dark-haired man Neriah had never seen before.

His hands were on her hips. Kara's fingers were in his hair.

"Oh—!"

The sound left Neriah before she could catch it.

The pair broke apart like struck flint.

Kara's eyes widened, her flushed face turning toward the door. "Seven hells, Neri—"

The man turned, slightly out of breath but grinning. "We've got company?"

Neriah's hands clenched at her sides. "Have you lost your senses?"

Kara adjusted her gown, not at all flustered. "Don't be so dramatic. You've seen worse in the bathhouse, I'm sure."

"In the bathhouse, yes. Not in Father's stables!" Neriah snapped, stepping further in. "You can't just… bring men here. This is Lord Velmorn's estate. It's his name on every wall—"

"Oh please," Kara rolled her eyes. "Desmond's practically family now, aren't you?"

The man bowed dramatically, brushing straw from his sleeve. "Desmond, my lady. King's Guard."

Neriah blinked, startled. "You're in the King's Guard?"

"Aye. Sworn and stationed in Arkenfall. Temporary leave," he said with a crooked smile. "Came to Halemond for personal reasons."

Kara grinned, tossing her braid over one shoulder. "He means me."

Desmond chuckled and turned back to Neriah. Desmond studied her a moment longer. "Your hair. Gods, I've never seen such red. Is it true all Halemond daughters are born flame-touched?"

Before Neriah could reply, Kara suddenly stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. "Excuse us for a moment,"

"Kara—"

With a sharp tug, she pulled Neriah out of the stables and back into the drizzle.

—

The drizzle clung to the air like silk — soft and ceaseless — as Kara pulled Neriah beneath the gnarled elm that arched toward the west garden. The branches above trembled with droplets, their shadows long across the grass. Neither sister spoke for a moment. The hush was broken only by the far-off neighing of horses and the fading echo of Desmond's boots against the stable floor.

Then Kara turned sharply, eyes wild.

"Please, Neriah," she said in a hush, clutching her sister's hands. "Don't let Father make me do this. Not this."

Neriah recoiled slightly, staring at her. "You're asking me again?"

"Yes! I—I have to!" Kara's voice cracked, and for once, she did not sound flippant or mischievous. "You know I'll never survive life in Arkenfall. Not as a queen. Not beside the Storm Lord. I'd rot behind those marble walls."

Neriah folded her arms, blinking against the misting rain. "You'd rot? As Queen of the Realm?"

"Yes!" Kara said. "Do you know what they say of him? That he dines with ghosts, sleeps in armor, and drinks the blood of traitors from a skull! A skull! That he never speaks unless it's to order a hanging, that he—"

"I've heard," Neriah cut in. "We've all heard."

Kara exhaled shakily and began to pace. The hem of her gown soaked quickly in the damp grass, and her hands flailed as she spoke. "I'm not like you, Neriah. I can't smile through cold halls. I can't bow to cruel men and wear pearls while my soul dies. I'll run. I'll say something improper. I'll be executed before the first frost."

"Then perhaps," Neriah said coldly, "you shouldn't have spent so many years chasing shadows and kissing soldiers in barns."

Kara froze. "That's not fair."

"It is," Neriah replied. "It is fair. I cover your tracks. And now, you want me to wear your wedding veil too?"

"You'd be better at it!" Kara burst. "You're… you're nice. Gentle. Pretty. He'd like that."

"I don't care what he'd like."

"You're meant for courts, not me," Kara pressed. "You always knew how to be proper. You read the books. You know the names of old kings. You walk like a princess even though we're not one."

"I'm not you, Kara!"

"You're not!" Kara's voice cracked again. "You're stronger. And you endure. You've endured everything — for me."

Neriah stared at her, stunned silent.

Kara stepped forward, her tone softer now. "You remember, don't you? That day in the orchard. I broke the vase. The glass one from Caldrith. Father nearly had the guards flog me. But you said it was you. You lied for me. You've always done that. Always."

Neriah turned away, her throat tightening. The memory pressed close — a dozen others rising with it.

"Maybe I was foolish," Neriah whispered. "Maybe I thought if I kept covering you, one day you'd change."

"I'm not built for chains, Neriah," Kara said. "But you… you can carry them with grace."

"I don't want chains!"

The words rang out — fierce and sudden. Neriah's voice, too long quiet, sliced through the mist. Kara blinked, taken aback.

"I don't want to endure!" Neriah continued, chest rising. "I don't want to suffer for someone else's mistake. I don't want to be sent to Arkenfall like a lamb to the butcher and pretend I'm grateful for the slaughter!"

Kara's lips trembled. "So you'll say no?"

A beat passed between them — long and bitter.

"You'll go," Kara said, quieter than before. "You'll do it. Because you always do."

"No." Neriah shook her head. "If I do this… it won't be for you. Not this time."

Kara's gaze searched her. "Then why?"

Neriah looked toward the greying sky, her voice low. "Because maybe someone in this family ought to uphold our name. Because someone ought to stop running."

Kara stepped back, jaw clenched. Her eyes filled, but she said nothing.

The silence grew thick between them. The drizzle deepened.

Without another word, Kara turned and walked away, her boots dragging through the wet grass.