The echoes of my farewell still cling to the halls as I step into the light of day, the sight of the waiting carriage looming before me like a beast of burden. It is nothing like the golden coaches I have seen escort my parents through the gates time and time again. This one, however, is something else entirely. Sleek, imposing, crafted from a dark metal frame carved with unfamiliar sigils that glint beneath the morning sun like a silent declaration of the kingdom it hails from.

  Varethia.

  A kingdom I have yet to see. A future I do not yet understand.

  The sight of it makes the weight in my chest sink deeper.

  I draw in a slow breath, straightening my shoulders. My mother's necklace rests cooly against my chest, a constant reminder of what I am leaving behind. My father's parting words echo in my mind as I descend the steps.

  'You must be strong.'

  Easier said than done.

  Two black stallions stand eagerly at the front, their silver-plated bridles gleaming. They stamp at the ground, teeth worrying at the bits in their mouths. Part of me understands how they feel.

  My belongings have already been loaded onto the back, leaving no excuse for me to linger any longer. My fate has been sealed away in the large brown trunks and there is nothing left to do but step forward.

  A figure moves near the carriage, drawing my gaze--Rael. He stands with rigid confidence, like he's never known fear, his armor dark as dusk, edged in cruel silver that catches the light like a blade. There is an unspoken severity in the way he carries himself and his presence alone feels like a quiet threat.

  My escort. My warden. My captor, in a sense.

  He stops beside the open door, his expression unreadable beneath the sharp angles of his features. His face is carved from something too unforgiving to be human--high cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips pressed into an unmoving line. But his eyes unnerve me the most. Cold, cutting, and utterly devoid of any warmth or kindness, no flicker of care.

  He does not bow as I near him, nor does he offer any pleasantries.

  Instead, he merely extends a gauntleted hand.

  I hesitate, staring at his silver-clad fingers as my own curl at my sides. But I force them to move. When my palm meets his, his grip is steady--too steady, as though nothing in the world could ever shake him. He wordlessly helps me into the carriage.

  I murmur an unanswered, "thank you," as I settle inside.

  I expect him to walk away and take the driver's seat, hopeful of putting as much distance between us as the carriage allows. Instead, to my surprise--and dismay--he steps in after me, lowering himself across from me with a predatory grace.

  The dim space inside suddenly feels smaller, the air weighted with a feeling of danger when he should be making me feel secure.

  I blink at him questioningly. "Are you not driving?"

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  Rael scoffs, low and sharp. "I'm your escort, not your coachman." One arm rests lazily on the windowsill, the other draped over his sword that stretches across his lap. He does not slouch or fidget. He only watches me with impassive eyes, his gaze dissecting, as if he's already begun cataloging my weaknesses, weighing their inconvenience.

  The carriage lurches as the true coachman takes his seat, the motion shifting my frame. I catch myself, quickly regaining composure. Rael, of course, remains utterly unaffected, unmoving like a garden sculpture.

  I shift my attention to the window, watching the golden gates pass by, shrinking behind us along with my home, shrinking into memory. A flicker of unease needles at the edges of my mind. This is the first time I have ever set foot beyond them.

  And the last time I would ever be within them.

  But, it is also the first time I will see the world beyond the palace walls.

  My stomach twists in a battle between dread and anticipation. Long have I dreamed of adventure, of seeing lands beyond the manicured gardens and pristine corridors. But I had imagined something different.

  I had not imagined him.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The King's blade remains composed, merely watching the trees pass by the impassiveness of a man who has seen them a thousand times over. My fingers twitch in my lap and I quickly grow restless.

  "How long until we reach Varethia?" I ask politely, even offering a small smile his way.

  He doesn't so much as glance at me, eyes scanning the dense forest. "Two weeks." He pauses, sharp eyes flitting to me, "longer if you slow us down."

  I grip my skirts tighter, clenching the fabric between my fingers to keep from snapping back at him.

  'And how, exactly, would I manage to slow us down?'

  I release a slow breath, forcing my voice to remain even. "And what is it like... the Kingdom?"

  What little I have heard of Varethia is saturated in cautionary whispers. A realm of demons, of shadows that stretch too long and dangers that do not lurk but rule. I wonder if they are all as cruel as him.

  Rael's face remains impassive, but I feel his gaze settle on me, assessing. "Cold," he states flatly. "Dark. Filled with creatures who aren't kind to fragile things."

  Fragile.

  He says it like a fact, like a title he has already assigned me.

  I quickly shove his comment aside, lifting my chin. "Perhaps I will come to love it there. And my husband."

  Something glints in his eyes--amusement, maybe disbelief--but it soon disappears as his lips curl into a mirthless grin. "Love?" He scoffs, facing me fully with an icy gaze, his voice scornful. "Spare yourself the delusion, Princess. Love has no place in your future."

  The words sting more than they should and my smile wavers slightly. My nails bite into my palms. "You speak as if you know."

  His lips twitch into a deadly smirk but his voice is dangerously soft. "Love is a weakness--one that gets people killed."

  A chill slithers down my spine.

  I have always been told that love is a virtue. A bond that strengthens kingdoms, not destroys them. But the way Rael speaks of it... it sounds more like a curse than a covet.

  "And yet," I reply carefully, "people still long for it,"

  He leans forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. His armor shifts, metal whispering against leather. A quiet laugh slips past his lips, humorless and cold. "People also long for wings, but no amount of wishing will stop their fall." His words are a blade disguised as wisdom, but they cut just the same.

  I unclench my jaw, smoothing the wrinkles in my gown with practiced ease. He is cruel, I've concluded.

  Cold-hearted.

  Insufferable.

  Yet, I can't shake the possibility that beneath the surface of his harsh words, there is something else. A warning, perhaps.

  A reality I refuse to accept.

  Silence presses in again, nearly deafening. I will myself to focus on anything other than the gnawing unease twisting in my stomach.

  I turn back to the window, watching as the world blurs past. I remind myself that this is my duty. That I am ready for the path ahead. But as the endless road stretches on, a small seed of doubt begins to take root within me.

  A crow perches on a twisted branch ahead, beady eyes gleaming as it watches the carriage roll past. It does not move. It does not startle. It only watches.

  Another shiver raises goosebumps along my skin.

  I look away.

  I do not see it take flight.

  "Rest, Princess," Rael commands expectedly. "You'll need it."

  His words do nothing to comfort me, but the lurching carriage soon sways into a lullaby, dulling my thoughts and tugging me into a restless, dreamless sleep.