The castle felt different.
It wasn't that Damon's absence had left Arkenfall silent—far from it. The court bustled as always, with lords exchanging letters, servants shuffling through corridors, and emissaries arriving with their grievances. But for Neriah, everything had dimmed. The light seemed duller, the air colder.
She walked slowly through the corridor that overlooked the eastern courtyard. From this height, she could see the gray clouds gathering toward the north—the direction Damon had ridden. The thought made her chest tighten.
He's only been gone two days.
And yet…
She had grown used to his presence. His warmth beside her. His silence that wasn't cold but watchful. His eyes that saw too much. His hand that knew when to reach for hers.
She missed him.
Gwen noticed it too.
"You've been staring out the windows all morning, my lady," Gwen said as she adjusted the folds of Neriah's gown. "If you're hoping the clouds will part and the King will drop down on a horse—well, I won't stop you, but at least eat something while you wait."
Neriah smiled faintly. "I'm not waiting."
Gwen raised a brow. "Then what are you doing?"
"…Thinking."
Gwen's expression softened. She stepped back and tilted her head. "It's not wrong to miss someone, you know."
"I know."
"I can tell you love the King, my lady" Gwen said with a smile.
Neriah said nothing.
"Hold onto that feeling. It's a rare thing in this place." Gwen said, adjusting the last of Neriah's sleeves with gentle fingers.
Neriah turned to her, brows pinched softly. "What do you mean?"
Gwen hesitated. Her usual brightness dimmed just slightly, like a candle flickering in wind. Then she straightened, her voice quieter but steady.
"I mean… love." She looked away for a beat, gathering herself. "When I was thirteen, my father sold me to a man. Old, cruel. Rich enough to pay in gold. He made me his wife."
Neriah's heart stopped. "Gwen…"
"I didn't have a choice. Most of us never do," Gwen continued, shrugging like it was a story she had told herself so many times it had worn soft. "For two years, I slept with fear in my throat. Then one day, he didn't wake up. He choked on his own vomit after a night of wine. And just like that… I was free."
Neriah couldn't find her voice.
Gwen smiled faintly, as if to wave the pain off. "I made my way to Arkenfall. Lied about my age. Worked as a scullery girl. Then a chambermaid. Then—somehow—I ended up here. I clean silk gowns for a woman married to a king. That's not too bad, right?"
"You're close to my age," Neriah murmured, her voice tight with emotion. "How… how have you lived through so much?"
"Because there's no other choice," Gwen said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "And because I made one vow the day that man died: I'll live a full life, no matter what it looks like."
Neriah didn't know what to say. She simply reached forward and held her hand.
Gwen gave her a small, grateful squeeze before pulling away with a grin. "You, my lady, are very lucky. Don't let the silence in this castle or the whispers from sour mouths tell you otherwise. You have a king. A real king. In this kingdom? That's a miracle. In a kingdom like this, filled with daggers and hungry men, you need someone who won't flinch when the shadows crawl in."
Neriah didn't respond at first.
Because her heart was too full.
She nodded slowly. "Thank you, Gwen."
—
The day went on.
Her testing with Lady Vax continued—lessons on court etiquette, the proper way to address emissaries from Braemorin, how to write official correspondence that balanced grace and authority. Neriah was attentive, responding when prompted, taking notes where needed, but her thoughts kept slipping through the cracks of parchment and ink.
She wondered if Damon had eaten.
If he'd slept the night before, or if he'd remained hunched over some council scrolls until dawn like he always did when something troubled him.
She wondered if his water was cool enough under the sun of Edravon. If he was staying hydrated. If Ethan remembered to remind him to eat, or if he was out there, skipping meals again.
Neriah pressed her quill too hard, the ink bleeding into the fibers of the page.
She blinked and sat straighter.
Lady Vax arched a brow but said nothing.
The lesson was coming to a close. Only a few days remained until the full rotation of her training was complete. After that, she'd be more than just a queen in title. She'd be recognized as fit to host foreign emissaries, to draft decrees, to sit beside the King with earned authority.
And yet none of it mattered to her now. Not really.
Not when her heart was still aching with unspoken words.
She hated that she couldn't ask him the simplest things.
Are you eating well?
Are you safe?
Are you thinking of me too?
Neriah tucked a loose curl behind her ear and forced her eyes back to the lesson scroll. She wrote as Lady Vax dictated, her letters elegant and steady—but inside, she was anything but composed.
She missed him.
And the weight of it was becoming unbearable.