The wheels of the caravan clattered against stone, the sound echoing faintly through the quiet interior. Rowena's face was flushed a deep red—she was practically a tomato from what she'd just done.
She couldn't believe she had kissed him—so fast, so suddenly. Being that close to someone… let alone him. And that had been her first kiss.
Her emotions piled on top of one another—happiness, embarrassment, guilt. It was overwhelming.
She sat fidgeting with her fingers, eyes downcast, sneaking the occasional glance at Solas. But each time, her courage failed her.
Her lips parted, about to speak, when—
"Rowena."
His voice was soft. Alluring.
"Eh?" She blinked, looking up at him.
"Get ready. Whatever comes… I need you to be strong."
The caravan turned slightly, rocking side to side, before slowly coming to a complete halt. Muffled voices and movement could be heard outside.
Then the caravan door creaked open.
Vaelira stepped in, glancing down at the two of them.
"Keep your heads down," she muttered under her breath. Her eyes flicked toward the open gate behind her before locking back onto them. "They aren't very fond of males… or of women who conspire with them."
She reached down and took hold of Solas's cuffs, gently pulling him up. Her gaze shifted to Rowena.
"Stay close to me," she instructed, then turned, leading Solas out of the caravan.
Solas didn't resist. He walked calmly, silently, watching as things unfolded—his expression unreadable.
As they stepped out of the caravan, the weight of the capital hit them all at once.
The sun shone down on Solas, its warmth brushing against his skin. They stood within a vast stone courtyard, surrounded by towering black walls carved with ancient, faded inscriptions. Iron-barred windows dotted the surface—narrow, like arrow slits. Pillars flanked the steps leading into the main hall, each etched with symbols of justice, order, and retribution. Above the entrance, banners fluttered in the breeze, each bearing the ruling sigil: a silver serpent coiled tightly around a black tower.
Beneath their feet, the pavement was dark grey and cold. At the center of the courtyard stood a stone fountain, crowned with a statue of a crowned woman clad in noble robes. She held a sword in one hand, water cascading from beneath her feet into the basin below.
Solas looked back once.
The gates behind them were already closing, the screech of iron grinding against stone echoing through the air. Towering walls sealed off the outside world—there was no going back now.
Vaelira moved beside him, tugging on the chain attached to his cuffs. "Walk," she ordered, her tone firm, pushing him forward.
Rows of silver-armored wardens lined the path, cloaks of muted grey hanging from their shoulders, spears in hand. As Solas passed, every pair of eyes turned to him.
He didn't lower his gaze.
Despite Vaelira's warnings to keep his head down, Solas walked with his chin high, his icy-blue eyes scanning the faces around him. Some wardens sneered at his boldness others appeared startled—unsettled by how calm he remained.
Vaelira had stopped trying to correct him. She'd warned him enough times. If he wanted to draw their ire, that was his burden to bear.
They approached a woman standing near the grand steps.
She was a knight—tall, poised, and motionless. Raven-black hair fell to her neck, her sharp brown eyes framed by bangs that split down the center. She wore a two-toned uniform cap dark grey above, black below, with the silver serpent-and-tower insignia shining at its center.
Her arms were crossed over polished silver armor, a long black cloak trailing behind her to nearly brush the stone. Her expression was cold, stoic—unmoved by the sight of prisoners.
Vaelira came to a halt and nodded once in greeting.
The knight did not return it. Her eyes settled on Solas, then flicked briefly to Rowena. Her gaze held a quiet, unreadable weight—like a blade waiting to drop.
Revek's gaze returned to Solas, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "He's the prisoner?" she asked, her voice flat and cold.
Vaelira gave a short nod, then gestured toward Rowena. "Yes. The girl is to be evaluated separately—she cooperated with him in the field."
Rowena tensed at the sound of her name being spoken so clinically, like she was just another entry in a report. Her eyes shifted toward Solas, who remained still, his hands bound in cuffs, his face unreadable.
Revek waved them forward. "They'll be taken to the holding chambers beneath the Hall of Weighing. Trials won't be held today. They'll be judged after sunrise."
Vaelira stepped beside Rowena, her voice low and firm. "Keep quiet unless spoken to. Don't give them a reason to think you're weak." Her eyes flicked toward Solas. "And him? He'll be fine—so long as he keeps his mouth shut."
Rowena swallowed hard and nodded.
Revek turned, taking hold of the chains, then paused. "Head Commander Vargra will be present."
At the name, Vaelira visibly stiffened—the name she had once longed to earn approval from, the one she had spent years trying to prove herself worthy of. Her posture straightened as if bracing for impact. "Understood," she said quietly.
"Good." Revek faced forward again and began walking, leading them into the looming hall ahead.
The sound of boots against stone echoed through the courtyard as Revek led them toward the steps of the main hall. Each step they climbed felt longer than the last.
Massive doors loomed ahead—dark iron reinforced with blackwood, engraved with the same serpent-and-tower emblem that fluttered on the banners above. As they approached, two wardens stationed at either side stepped forward and pushed them open with a groan of old hinges.
The interior swallowed them in shadow and silence.
Inside, the air grew colder. The stone beneath their feet turned from sun-warmed gray to polished black marble, reflecting faint torchlight from iron sconces lining the walls. The ceiling arched high above, held up by towering columns etched with justice runes so worn they were barely legible. Murals faded by time lined the walls, depicting the kingdom's rulers delivering decrees, executions, and absolutions alike.
The hall was eerily quiet, save for the faint drip of water somewhere deeper within.
Revek said nothing as she guided them down the central path. More wardens stood along the sides like statues, watching in silence. Rowena's footsteps faltered slightly, the echo of each step making her feel exposed beneath the cold stares.
The hall's far end split into two staircases descending beneath the structure. Revek turned toward the left one, her pace never slowing.
They were being led underground—into the holding chambers.