The carriage door closed with a soft finality, muffling the sound of laughter and footsteps from the council hall. Nerine sank into the velvet seat, her engagement ring pressing coldly against her finger like a reminder.
Kael sat across from her, expression unreadable, one hand gloved and resting on the armrest. He did not speak. Neither did she.
It wasn't the first time she had ridden in a carriage, or even being driven to the Blackthorn House—but somehow, this moment felt different. Final.
Outside, the streets that connects Hollowood and velmire blurred past as dusk rolled in, washing the world in pale gray.
Nerine folded her hands in her lap and stared at the floor. Her heart was still racing—not just from the ceremony, but from the encounter with Lady Kate. The false affection, the veiled threats, the way Kael had appeared just in time… for her benefit.
She glanced up. He was watching the window, eyes distant, jaw tense.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Kael didn't look at her. "For what?"
"For what you said. About me not feeling well."
He finally turned. "You didn't look well."
"I didn't feel well," she admitted. "But it helped."
He gave a small nod. Civil. Not kind. Certainly not warm.
She leaned her head back and shut her eyes briefly, the silence between them almost deafening.
"I asked one of the maids earlier if you were handsome," she said suddenly, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile.
Kael blinked, clearly caught off-guard. "I heard."
Her cheeks warmed. "You did?"
"The walls in Blackthorn House really does have ears and are very talkative."
She let out a breath of laughter. "It was a nervous question. You weren't exactly easy to find."
"And yet you found me."
She glanced at him, his profile a perfect sculpture of restraint. "I didn't expect you to look the way you do."
"I get that a lot." He replied not expecting her to tell him about that.
He didn't elaborate, and Nerine didn't ask. But the weight in her chest lightened just a little.
The carriage turned down the familiar path to Blackthorn House. She recognized the iron gates, the twisting vines, and the dark silhouette of the mansion. A place that had felt strange only yesterday now felt heavier somehow—more permanent.
They arrived.
Kael stepped out first, extending his hand not out of affection, but formality. Nerine placed her fingers lightly in his, allowing him to help her down.
It struck her again—how large his hand was. How cold.
Not the cold of death.
The cold of distance.
She followed him into the mansion where the butler awaited them, bowing low. "Welcome home, Lord Kael. Lady Sofia."
She cringed internally at the name but smiled politely and nodded. She'd gotten used to hearing it now.....at least on the outside.
Kael glanced over at her. "You're familiar with your room already?"
"Yes."
"Then rest," he said simply. "The day was long."
She hesitated. "Right. I'll...." she stopped herself before she said see you later. They weren't that kind of engaged couple.
Instead, she dipped into a shallow curtsy. "Goodnight."
He gave a nod, then walked away.
In her room, Nerine collapsed onto the edge of the bed, removing her gloves slowly. The engagement ring still felt foreign on her hand. The entire day felt like it had happened to someone else.
The weight of the dress was still pressing into her ribs, her hairpins still pulling at her scalp. But what overwhelmed her most was the realization that there was no one here to talk to about it. No Elizabeth to braid her hair, no Madam Helen to sneak her a second slice of pie, no Grace humming in the corridor.
And Kael?
He wasn't cruel. He wasn't warm either. He was... something in between. Distant and shadowed. Like he'd built walls long before she arrived.
She didn't blame him.
But she still felt alone.
Upstairs, in the high tower study, Kael leaned on the window frame, the moonlight glinting off the glass of whiskey in his hand.
"She didn't faint," he muttered to himself.
Kostas, standing across the room, raised an eyebrow. "That surprises you?"
"She didn't cry. Or hesitate. She just... offered her hand."
"Maybe she's accepted her fate."
Kael swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Or maybe she's hiding something because that's not the typical behavior of a spoilt lady"
Kostas smirked. "Then how did you expect her to act .... not everyone is like someone I know."
Kael ignored the jab, glancing down toward the wing of the house where her chambers were. The lights were already dim.
"She's cautious," he said at last.
"She has reason to be."
"She's not afraid of me."
Kostas stood. "Maybe she should be."
Kael didn't respond. Instead, he looked out over the garden where the black flowers grew wild and silent, blooming under the weight of moonlight.
Downstairs, Nerine finally stood and went to the window of her room. She looked out across the same garden—its strange, ink-colored petals stirring in the breeze. She made a silent promise to herself:
No matter how quiet the halls were, or how distant her fiance.....right, he was now her future husband...no matter how distance he was, she wouldn't let herself be erased. Not like her mother. Not like all the women who'd smiled their way into obedience.
She was still Nerine.
Even if the world called her Sofia.