MANY YEARS LATER - HALEMOND
The wind in Halemond always sang through the mountains. It swept across the narrow courtyards and grey-tiled roofs like a whispering specter, curling around stone towers and stirring the old purple banners that hung from the windows of House Velmorn. The castle stood carved into the cliffs like a sentinel — proud, worn, and ever-watchful.
Neriah stood at the arched window of their shared chamber, her fingers twisting nervously in the folds of her sleeves. The sun had long since dipped behind the ridges, but Kara was still not back.
She pressed her ear to the breeze as if it might carry her sister's laughter back from wherever she'd gone this time.
"Where are you, Kara…" she whispered under her breath, biting the corner of her lip.
They were summoned. Both of them.
Lord Velmorn — their father — had returned from the border negotiations two days early and sent word not long after stepping through the hall. His steward had come, voice low and clipped: "His Lordship requests the presence of both his daughters in the east chamber."
That had been half an hour ago.
And Kara… Kara had slipped out long before that, fluttering her lashes at the guards, dressed in a borrowed riding cloak, and whispering some lie about visiting the gardens.
Neriah had watched her go, her heart in her throat.
Now she was alone. Waiting. Again.
She turned sharply from the window at the sound of hurried boots on stone — and the chamber door flung open.
Kara burst in, cheeks flushed, hair wild beneath her hood, a wicked smile playing at her lips.
"There you are!" Neriah cried, rushing toward her. "You're late. He's already called for us!"
Kara pulled off her cloak and tossed it onto the bed. "Well then, let us not keep our mighty father waiting. I hear he's been especially grim since the council ride."
"Kara, this isn't funny."
Her sister looked at her then, truly looked — and Neriah hated how familiar that amused glint in her eyes was.
"You were with him again, weren't you?" Neriah said quietly.
Kara smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking off her boots. "Define 'him.'"
Neriah's arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Don't play with me."
"My sweet, anxious little dove," Kara drawled, running her fingers through her hair. "You worry too much. I was careful. I'm always careful."
"That's not the point! You snuck out, you left me to cover for you — again — and now he's asked for us both. If he knows—"
"He won't know." Kara stood, brushing dust from her skirts. "He's too busy looking for reasons to scold me for my 'impropriety.' What's one more?"
Neriah stared at her, helpless. "You don't care, do you?"
Kara's expression softened for a moment. "I care… that you care. That's the best I can offer."
"I had to lie, Kara."
"You're good at it," Kara teased, tapping her on the nose. "Your face was made for innocence."
Neriah stepped back, exasperated. "One day, Father's patience will end. You'll say something too bold, or one of your lovers will be less careful than you are."
Kara grinned again, unbothered. "Then perhaps it will be a relief. I'll be exiled, you'll weep, and I'll run off to Caldrith Vale and marry a horse lord."
"This isn't a jest."
"It's not a tragedy, either," Kara said. "Come now. If we dawdle any longer, Father may think we've both gone to whorehouses."
Neriah flinched. "Don't say things like that."
Kara leaned in, pressing a swift kiss to her sister's forehead. "You are too good for this place."
Kara opened the chamber door and turned with a wink. "Shall we go and face the dragon, little dove?"
Neriah hesitated — then followed.