Alone and

The morning after the meeting, the tension in the castle intensifies, a palpable weight that hangs in the air like a storm cloud. Over breakfast, you learn that Victoria, your sister, has been summoned back to House Caldersmith. She is needed to help lead their forces, leaving you without her steadying presence. The news hits you like a blow, and the absence of her quiet strength makes the castle feel colder, more alien.

That evening, Viola informs you that the Queen has ordered her to her ancestral home of Valancia to rally reinforcements from among the peasantry. She stands before you in her riding leathers, her blue eyes sharp with determination, though a flicker of concern lingers in her gaze.

“You’ll manage without me,” she says, brushing your cheek affectionately. Her touch is warm, but the words feel hollow. “Stay out of Anora’s way. She won’t dare act without cause, not yet.”

But her departure leaves you feeling exposed, like a ship adrift in a storm. Without Viola to serve as your champion, you are ignored by the Queen and her advisors, your opinions dismissed out of hand. The castle, once a place of intrigue and possibility, now feels like a gilded cage.

Preparations for the siege move forward with relentless efficiency. The halls echo with the clatter of armor and the hurried footsteps of servants carrying supplies. You distance yourself from the chaos, retreating to the relative safety of Viola’s chambers. Each day, you watch from the windows as the city below transforms into a fortress, its streets bristling with barricades and its walls manned by grim-faced soldiers. You cling to the hope that House Caldersmith’s forces will arrive before Duchess Persephone’s army can lay waste to the city.

On the third morning, restless and frustrated, you head to the royal dining hall. Normally, you avoid it, wary of running into Anora. But today, you find yourself **** for some form of human contact, even if it’s fleeting.

The hall is eerily quiet, the long tables empty save for a few scattered plates and goblets. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting golden pools on the polished floor. You’re about to turn back when a familiar, venomous voice pulls you from your reverie.

“What have we here?”

Turning, you find yourself face-to-face with Anora, her auburn hair glowing in the morning light like molten copper. The hall is empty save for her and her personal guards, their armor gleaming as they stand at attention. Anora’s green eyes narrow as she studies you, her lips curling into a smirk.

You bow your head slightly, muttering a polite excuse as you move to leave, but one of her guards steps into your path, a mocking grin on her face. The woman’s hand rests on the hilt of her sword, her stance casual but deliberate.

“Please let me pass,” you say flatly, your voice steady despite the unease coiling in your chest.

The guard doesn’t move.

“I’ve been wondering,” Anora muses, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey, “what it is my sister sees in you. Certainly not your wit or charm.”

Her words are sharp, each one a calculated jab. You **** yourself to remain calm, though your pulse quickens under her scrutiny.

“I’m under Viola’s protection,” you reply, though the words sound hollow even to your own ears.

“For now,” Anora says with a dismissive smile, her gaze sharp and cutting. “But Viola isn’t here, is she? And there’s always the chance she won’t make it back.”

Before you can respond, she steps closer, her hand darting forward to grip you through your trousers. The pressure is painful, and you stiffen in shock, your breath catching in your throat.

“You’d best pray for my sister’s safe return,” she hisses, her smile cruel, “because if she doesn’t come back, I’ll let each and every guard have her way with you before I castrate you myself.”

Her words hang in the air like a **** sentence, cold and unyielding. With a surge of strength, you push past the guard blocking your way. She resists for a moment, her smirk widening, before stepping aside with a mocking laugh, allowing you to flee under the sound of Anora’s cold, echoing laughter.

Back in Viola’s chambers, you pace the floor, your thoughts racing. The truth is impossible to ignore: your position in the castle is far more precarious than you realized. The Queen and her court tolerate you only because of your tenuous connection to House Caldersmith. If the Duchess—an aloof, distant figure you’ve never met—decides to sever those ties, any semblance of protection you have will vanish.

By evening, you come to a grim conclusion. Despite the excitement Viola brought into your life, staying here is no longer safe. The best chance for survival is to slip away with the men and children who are set to leave the city in the morning ahead of the siege. The thought of abandoning Viola twists your stomach into knots, but the memory of Anora’s threat lingers like a shadow.

That night, sleep eludes you. When it finally comes, it’s restless and fraught with nightmares. Anora’s mocking laughter echoes as her guards chase you through endless, twisting corridors. You wake drenched in sweat, the weight of your decision pressing down like a stone.