The carriage rocked gently as it left the long, stone-bordered path of Blackthorn House. The night had not yet fallen; the skies were brushed in faint gold and daylight, the sun beginning its descent, a subtle prelude to the ball. Inside, the air seemed far heavier than the fading warmth outside.
Nerine sat opposite Kael, her hands resting lightly on her lap, the folds of her gown cascading around her like flowing sky-water. The pale-blue fabric glistened faintly whenever the carriage lanterns caught it, pearls scattered across it like fragments of moonlight. Her silver hair had been brushed to perfection, cascading in soft waves, pinned only by a delicate ornament that mirrored her ethereal glow.
She could feel his eyes on her, though he did not stare outright. He leaned back, one gloved hand resting against the sill of the window, the other loosely holding a cigarette he had not yet lit. His dark attire, sharp lines trimmed in silver, made him appear as though he carried the night itself into the confined space.
Nerine turned her face to the window, pretending to be absorbed by the fields rolling past them, though her heartbeat betrayed her. She could feel the weight of his presence, the silence between them too alive, too taut.
Beyond them, further down the road, another carriage rolled—the one sent by the castle itself. Penelope was within it, accompanied by her maid . Nerine had seen her step gracefully into it earlier, lilac fabric gathered like clouds around her feet, her laughter carried faintly on the air before the door closed.
She seemed to be laughing about something related to them.
Nerine wondered if Penelope found the journey lonely, or if she filled it with idle chatter and pleasant distraction, the way she so often did.
Nerine was lost in her thought when kael's voice broke it at last.
"You should not look so nervous," he said, his voice deep, calm—yet with an undercurrent that made her spine prickle. "You've endured worse than a hall of eyes."
Her lips curved faintly. "Eyes can sometimes be sharper than blades."
Kael's gaze flickered. He leaned slightly forward, his shadow stretching across her gown. "Then let them cut," he murmured, "for they will not reach you while I stand beside you."
Her breath caught, though she quickly masked it, lowering her eyes to the pearls on her dress. The reassurance should have comforted her—but his tone had been too cold, too distant, as though he were promising protection out of duty, not warmth.
The wheels clattered over uneven cobblestones as they began to leave the outer grounds. Silence fell again, yet it was no longer empty,it was charged, humming, stretching across the space like a drawn bowstring.
Finally, Nerine asked quietly, "The castle… is it far?"
Kael tilted his head slightly. "Far enough to make you weary of the ride, but near enough that you will not have time to escape."
Her eyes darted to his, startled, before realizing he was teasing her,his lips curved just faintly, a ghost of amusement flickering across his otherwise severe features.
"You find humor in keeping me captive?" she asked, her voice lighter now, though her heart still raced.
He exhaled softly through his nose, not quite a laugh, but something close. "You were never captive, Nerine. The world, however, will not believe that."
She stilled at the way he said her true name, low and careful, hidden in the cocoon of the carriage. For the first time that evening, warmth threatened to bloom in her chest, though she quickly looked back out the window, refusing to let it grow.
Confused on what she really wanted.
The ride stretched on, the world around them transforming as they drew closer to the castle. The Blackthorn estate faded into rolling hills, then winding roads lined with torches that awaited the night's festivities. In the distance, the looming silhouette of the royal castle rose, its towers catching the dying sun like blades of obsidian and gold.
Nerine could not stop staring at it. The castle was vast, far greater in scale than Blackthorn House, built into the cliffs as though carved from the earth itself. It radiated both splendor and dread, its spires piercing the heavens, its banners fluttering with emblems of power. The very air seemed heavier as they approached, as though steeped in centuries of secrets.
Her fingers curled into her gown. "It feels… alive," she whispered.
Kael followed her gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was laced with something harder. "It remembers. Every stone of that castle has witnessed blood and betrayal. You will find no kindness within those walls."
"And yet we must enter?!," she murmured.
He looked at her then—sharp, steady, as though searching her soul. "We must," he confirmed.
The carriage slowed as they crossed the outer gates. Already, the path leading to the grand entrance was lined with lanterns and guards in ceremonial armor. Other carriages were arriving, their crests gleaming in the torchlight. Nobles stepped out dressed in shimmering fabrics, their laughter carrying faintly on the night breeze.
Theirs halted before the grand stairway.
The footman opened the door, bowing deeply. Kael stepped out first, his presence alone enough to draw every eye on the steps. The hush that rippled through the crowd was immediate, reverent, and tinged with unease. He stood tall, regal, his black attire blending into the night as though he had been born from its shadows.
Then he turned and offered his hand.
Nerine placed hers in his, and as she descended, the world seemed to still. Gasps flitted through the air, subtle but undeniable. The lanterns caught her hair like spun silver, her gown like the reflection of a twilight sky. Her beauty was not simply that of a noblewoman—it was something unearthly, something that whispered of bloodlines long forgotten and powers too deep to name.
Kael's eyes lingered on her for just a breath longer than they should have, his hand tightening imperceptibly around hers. His face, however, betrayed nothing.
Together, they ascended the stairs.
And though they walked side by side, their hands only barely brushing, the aura they carried was undeniable—darkness and light, duty and defiance, bound together for the world to witness.
The grand doors opened with a slow, echoing creak, spilling golden light into the night. The ball awaited.