Elissa blinked against the sudden warmth and light as they stepped down from the carriage into the covered courtyard. The world outside was all gray stone and sleet; in here, braziers glowed along the walls, and the air smelled faintly of smoke, damp wool, and beeswax.
Her boots touched solid stone. The jolt from the road still echoed in her bones.
Martha was already waiting at the base of the steps, hands folded, apron and dark dress neat despite the damp air. The housekeeper's sharp eyes flicked quickly over Elissa: her hair, her cloak, the way she was carrying herself.
"Your Highness," Martha said with a short, respectful dip of her head. "Shall I see you to your rooms?"
"Yes," Elissa said, her voice a little hoarse. "Thank you."
Kestrel stepped in closer, studying her face. "I can walk you up," she offered. " I'll complain about the roads the entire way, it'll be very therapeutic."
Elissa managed a small smile. "You need to change and rest too. I'll be fine. Martha's with me."
Kestrel's eyes narrowed like she wanted to argue. Then she sighed and let her shoulders drop a fraction. "If you faint in a corridor, at least do it somewhere dramatic," she said. "Staircases, tapestries, that sort of thing. Make it worthwhile."
"I'll aim for subtle," Elissa said.
"Terrible choice," Kestrel muttered, but there was the ghost of a grin as she turned away.
Vane lingered, one hand already half out of his cloak. "You sure you're all right?" he asked, for once without a teasing edge. "You went pale in the carriage."
He said it lightly, but his gaze was searching.
Elissa drew herself a bit straighter. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Just tired. The tavern was…loud."
"And the road tried to murder us," Vane added.
"That too," she said. "But I'm really all right."
His mouth twisted like he didn't fully believe her, but he nodded. "If you start seeing double, send someone for me. I've always wanted to diagnose a royal head injury."
She huffed a quiet breath that almost passed for a laugh.
Alistair hadn't moved away yet. He stood half in shadow, snow still clinging to his dark hair. His eyes hadn't left her since she'd stepped down from the carriage.
There was something about the way he watched—too focused, too still. Weighing. Measuring.
"I'm fine," she said again, this time to him. "Really."
He held her gaze for a long second. Something between them flickered, a soft hum under her skin.
"Good," he said at last.
He turned away then, cloak swirling as he joined Dante and Kestrel, already speaking in low voices about guards and stables.
Martha cleared her throat gently. "This way, Your Highness."
Elissa followed her through the familiar corridors: tall windows misted with condensation, the patterned carpets that muffled their steps, the quiet murmur of distant servants. The castle always felt heavier after coming in from the city, as if the walls held too many secrets in their stone.
Disoriented, Vane had said. That was one word for it. Elissa felt slightly unmoored, like her body had arrived but her thoughts were still rattling around inside the carriage.
By the time they reached her door, her shoulders were aching from how tightly she was holding them.
Martha opened the door and stepped aside. Warmth from the small fireplace washed over Elissa as she entered—her room was cozier than most in the castle, less grand, more lived-in. Cushions by the window. A stack of books on the low table. The faint, comforting smell of clean linen and herbs.
And from the corner, a soft, excited scrabble of claws.
The little kennel beside the hearth rattled as something inside scrambled up against the bars. A small, dark muzzle pushed through the gap, followed by a high, nearly offended yip.
Elissa's chest loosened for the first time since the road had bucked beneath them.
"Hi," she breathed, crossing the room more quickly than she'd meant to. "Hi, I'm here. I'm sorry I was gone so long."
Martha shut the door quietly behind them. "He's been pacing since the bells for midday," she said. "Must be getting used to you already."
Elissa knelt, fingers fumbling at the latch. The pup practically exploded out of the kennel the moment it clicked, a tumble of long legs, soft snowy white fur, and too-big paws. He skidded on the rug, overshot, and had to scramble back to reach her.
He crashed straight into her lap and immediately tried to lick her chin.
"I missed you too," Elissa said, laughing under her breath as she steadied him. His fur was warm under her hands, his little body solid and wriggling with uncomplicated joy. No politics, no bonds, no Hollow. Just a small creature who wanted to be near her.
Martha moved around the room with practiced efficiency, setting a robe out on the bed, checking the bath through the side door. Steam drifted into the room, carrying the scent of pine and something faintly floral.
"I've had them draw a hot bath," she said. "It'll help with the chill. And any bruises that rut might have gifted you."
"I don't think I bruised," Elissa said automatically, one hand in the thick fur at the pup's neck, feeling him breathe. "Alistair caught me."
Martha's eyes flicked to her, then away again. "Good," she said simply.
Of course it was expected. Of course the prince would catch her if she fell. They were bound. They were…whatever they were. Still, the acknowledgment sent a strange warmth creeping under Elissa's collarbones.
She ducked her head, burying her fingers in the pup's fur.
"I'll lay out something comfortable for after," Martha went on. "Nothing formal. You've had enough of that for one day."
"Thank you," Elissa said quietly.
"Can you manage from here?" Martha asked. "If you start feeling faint, call. I'll be just outside."
"I'll be all right," Elissa said. "The bath will help."
Martha nodded, unfooled but respectful. She turned to go, then paused, glancing at the small whirlwind of fur in Elissa's lap.
"Have you decided on a name for him yet?" she asked. "The young master keeps calling him 'that menace,' which I don't think is fitting."
The pup froze as if he understood he was being discussed, then immediately attempted to chew on Elissa's glove.
Elissa smiled despite herself, a real, small curve of her mouth. She stroked along his spine. His tail thumped wildly against her thigh.
"I haven't," she admitted. "Nothing seems…right yet."
Truth was, she'd been putting it off. Names had weight. Binding things down, making them real. Easier, sometimes, to leave things unnamed. Like hopes. Like fears.
Like the part of her that wondered whether she'd still be here, in this room, with this wolf, after Hollow finally turned its gaze fully north.
"He's loyal," Martha said, watching them. "Follows you with his eyes the moment you walk in. Determined too. Nearly climbed out of the kennel earlier."
"Did he?" Elissa asked, looking down at him. He blinked up at her with bright, ice-pale eyes, then tried to paw at her laces.
"He'll be a terror when he's bigger," Martha said, but there was affection in it. "You might want to give him a name that can handle that."
Elissa let her fingers trace the pup's ear, feeling the soft fur flatten and lift.
A name that could handle trouble. A name that sounded like it belonged in snow and stone and northern wind. Something strong for something small. Something she wasn't sure she was.
"I'll think on it," she said at last. "He deserves the right one."
"So do you," Martha said quietly. Then, as if she hadn't said it at all, she clapped her hands gently. "Bath first. Names later."
Elissa nodded and carefully set the pup back down. He whined and tried to follow when she stood, but Martha coaxed him back with a small piece of dried meat, shutting the kennel door with a soft click.
Elissa's heart pulled at the sound. Ridiculous. It was only for a short time. Still, leaving him behind the bars made something tight twist in her chest.
You're the one in a gilded kennel, that same small voice whispered. You and your promises.
She shook it away and stepped into the bathing room.