"You are too special to be shown to the world, my dear Azmira."
She looked at her mother, eyes filled with curiosity. "But my sisters are already paired with another. When shall my time come?"
At her age, her mother should have had a list of prospects already—names from powerful families that would be grateful for her presence, for her contribution.
Her mother's lips curled into a soft, knowing smile as she brushed a gentle hand over her hair. "In time, my love," she murmured. "But not yet. The world is not ready for you."
She frowned, her fingers twisting the fabric of her gown. "Not ready?" she echoed. "But I am no different from my sisters."
Her mother's gaze darkened for the briefest moment before the woman cupped her face, tilting it upward. "Oh, but you are different," she whispered. "Far more than you know."
Something in her tone sent a shiver down Azmira's spine, something that seemed to hide more than she expected. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be able to know more about it. She could not ask her any further.
Because her mother was already there…lying still.
Surrounded by flowers, her body lay upon a bed of silk, her face unnaturally pale, yet serene. Her lips, once warm with affection, were now bloodless, frozen in eternal stillness. Her hands, always so gentle, were now stiff and folded neatly over her chest, fingers entwined as if in prayer. The rich fabric of her gown draped over her motionless form, unblemished and pristine, as though untouched by the decay of death. The candlelight flickered across her closed eyelids, casting delicate shadows that only deepened the lifelessness in her features. She looked like a sleeping figure from a tragic tale, untouched by suffering—and yet, the truth of her passing was undeniable.
It was too soon for her mother to die.
There were no signs that indicated she had any ailment.
She was just suddenly gone.
Even though Azmira could not accept it, what else could she have done? It's not like she could bring her mother back to life.
She turned to look at the people in the gathering. Only a few had visited. Some she does not even know and just came for the free food. Even her sisters haven't come yet—all occupied with their Masters they serve. There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she tries to keep everything together.
What will happen now that her mother is gone?
Resha was everything she had.
"Aren't your sisters coming?"
She glanced at Kesiya—a dear friend of her mother. Strands of her dark locks fell messily over her face, partially obscuring her weary yet watchful eyes. Her clothes were dirty and damp from tending to every detail of the funeral, yet the warmth she carried, the quiet strength of a motherly figure, never faded. Even in exhaustion, there was a gentleness in the way she stood beside Azmira, a silent pillar in the storm of grief.
"I don't know."
Sending her sisters a correspondence was already difficult. Having them attend the funeral is another kind of hardship. Ever since they were matched, they never get to visit home again. The letters were rare, and even the stories they share seemed to be out of formality and not just because they miss them. Sometimes, Azmira cannot help but think awfully of them. Their mother did her best for them to be matched to respectable families. Meanwhile, after everything, they would just suddenly turn cold. She really could not help but to think the worst of them, especially now that their mother is dead.
"I really don't know."
Their family is not wealthy. They are residing far away from kingdoms, yet royalties still seek for them. That is because of her mother's effort. They equipped them with knowledge, preparing them for something more, even when they started at the bottom.
"Let's put her to rest."
Kesiya's resignation about the matter leave her to no choice. There is no one else they could expect to come. Therefore, they proceeded to bury her mother. Slowly, Resha was brought down to the ground. Her beautiful face gone from the world.
And as if the world is grieving with them, it rained.
It poured hard, but she dared not weep from the bitterness of it all.
"Come now, child."
As she walked beside Kesiya, making her way back to the house, a figure caught her eye—a woman standing partially concealed behind a tree. She wore a black gown like Azmira's, yet its fabric was far more elegant, the embroidery delicate and shimmering even in the dim light. The richness of the attire set her apart, a stark contrast to the somber simplicity of those who had gathered for the funeral.
"Elthwyn is here."
Kesiya glanced where she was looking as well, sighing heavily when she saw her sister. "The time has come it seems."
Elthwyn was the eldest, matched to a family when Azmira was just five years old. As a result, her memories of her sister were faint, scattered like fragments of a forgotten dream. Yet, as she looked at her now, Elthwyn appeared unchanged—still beautiful, almost unnaturally so. Her hair was elegantly pinned up, revealing every delicate feature of her face, a face untouched by time. But it was her eyes that unsettled Azmira the most—sharp and knowing, as if they had witnessed far too much.
When they got to the house, the two women talked while she stayed hidden, listening.
"Azmira cannot stay here alone," Elthwyn stated, looking at Kesiya intently. "You, of all people, should know the perils."
"She is not alone. She is with me."
Her sister chuckled. "And you really think you can protect her?"
"I can and I will."
"Nonsense," Elthwyn hissed. "You speak such nonsense. You're a fool to even suggest such a thing. Mother would not entrust you with such a delicate matter."
Kesiya shook her head. "If she comes with you, she will be seen. You understand the risk, right?"
"I know how to protect my sister," Elthwyn pressed, which Kesiya only shook her head to.
"I really hope you do, because this is not something that should be taken lightly."
"But why?" Azmira asked, finally showing herself from her hiding place.
The women clearly do not expect her to be listening.
Elthwyn squinted and grabbed her shoulder. "Is that how a Lady should behave? Is that what mother has been teaching you?"
Azmira shook her head, lowering her gaze. "No… but I had to know."
Kesiya sighed, crossing her arms. "Curiosity can be dangerous, little one. There are things you may not be ready to understand."
Azmira frowned but did not argue. Instead, she glanced at Elthwyn, searching for reassurance. "But I only wanted to help."
Elthwyn's grip on her shoulder tightened. "Pack your bags. We're leaving immediately." She did not offer any further explanation, nor did she give Azmira a chance to protest.
Her heart pounded. "Leaving? But—why? Where are we going?"
Kesiya's expression darkened. "Elthwyn, is this really necessary?"
Elthwyn ignored her, turning to Azmira with a firm gaze. "No more questions. Do as I say."
Left with no choice, she followed her sister and packed whatever is valuable to her. Only a few since she does not really own much. Her hands trembled as she tucked away a small locket, a worn book, and some clothes. When she got out of her room, her sister was standing by the door waiting, her expression unreadable, while Kesiya paced, her arms crossed tightly.
"You're ready?" her sister asked after seeing her.
She only nodded, glancing at Kesiya who gave her a reassuring hug.
"All will be well," the woman whispered. "For now, just stay with your sister."
They got into a carriage, too fancy for a simple departure, making Azmira's unease grow. The dark wood gleamed under the lantern light, the crest on its door unmistakable—one that did not belong to their family. But to the House Elthwyn was matched.
Azmira hesitated from entering, looking back at Kesiya. "You're not coming?"
The woman offered a sad smile. "Not this time, little one. But I'll see you again."
She hugged the woman tight, not wanting to let go, uncertain of what future is to come to her. "Promise that you'll visit at least."
"Of course, I will." Kesiya smoothed Azmira's hair before gently pulling away. "Now go. Your sister is waiting."
Azmira swallowed hard and stepped into the carriage, her heart pounding as the door shut behind her. She settled into the plush seat across from Elthwyn, who remained silent, her expression unreadable.
The carriage jerked forward, and with it, a sense of finality settled over her. She cast one last glance out the window, watching Kesiya's figure disappear into the shadows of the night.
Elthwyn finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm. "You'll be safe where we're going."
Azmira clenched her hands in her lap. "Then why does it feel like we're running?"
Elthwyn didn't answer right away. The lanterns outside flickered as they passed, casting fleeting glimpses of her tense jaw and weary eyes.
"Because," she murmured at last, "we are."