>>Enya
Weeks had passed since the monster incident. Days were quieter now, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel like the sharp edge of loneliness anymore, but rather the gentle hush of peace. It was strange, how things could change like that. Just a few weeks ago, Ahin and I had barely exchanged more than guarded words and stolen glances.
Since Einar and I lived in the isolated wing of the mansion—tucked away from the rest of the house, away from the scrutiny and judgnt—having Rika with us had brought sothing different to the halls. Laughter, for one. The sound of her tiny feet pattering across the stone, her giggles echoing in the vast rooms, her delighted shrieks when Einar would draw her into so harmless magical illusion. She filled the silence with life.
Today, the sun was gentle, peeking through the high-arched windows and bathing the open corridor in gold. The snow in our part of the garden had long since been lted with magic. A tender spring had blood here before anywhere else.
Einar sat on a cushioned bench with his sketchbook in hand, paintbrush dancing across the canvas like a waltz. He was painting Rika again. She played beneath the budding tree, her tiny fingers clutching a stick she had declared to be her "magic wand." Her hair bounced with every step, and she was laughing to herself, completely unaware of the audience she had drawn.
I leaned against the stone railing, watching quietly. The wind was soft, carrying the scent of warm leaves and morning sun. Einar humd a lody under his breath as he worked. Ahin stood to the side, quiet and composed as always. But then I caught him looking at the painting—not idly, not out of boredom. He was focused. His gaze was soft, almost reverent.
And then he smiled.
It wasn’t a wide grin, nor the sort of smile one gave out of politeness. It was subtle, barely curving the edges of his lips—but it was real. Warm. Gentle. His eyes shimred in the light as he looked at the image of his sister, so full of life.
My heart ached in the best way.
He looked peaceful. And I realized in that mont: he was happy. Just seeing Rika happy, free to laugh and play without fear, was enough for him.
I looked away, blinking the warmth from my eyes. I couldn’t quite explain the feeling, but it was sothing like... contentnt. A knot inside that had been too tight for too long had begun to loosen.
He noticed then, caught watching him. I expected him to look away in embarrassnt, but he didn’t. He just gave a small nod, acknowledging in that quiet way of his.
But a simple gesture from him got my heart racing again.
I looked away in a panic.
Shit!
I panicked and looked away! I slowly turned my head back to look at him but his gaze was back at his sister.
I hope he didn’t find rude or anything like that!
I kept looking at Ahin.
I hope our peaceful days last like this. I pursed my lips softly
But of course, peace never lasts. As right the next morning I received awful news
***
It was supposed to be a peaceful morning.
The warmth of the early sun had just begun to peek through the high windows, casting golden streaks across the floor of the corridor. I was halfway through tying Rika’s sash when I heard the soft knock. It was tentative, a re tap against the wooden door, yet sothing in tightened instantly.
I opened the door to see a young maid bowing low, her hands neatly folded in front of her apron. Her eyes flickered up to mine with caution.
"Pardon , Lady Enya," she said with a practiced calm. "The young Duke is asking for you."
My breath caught in my throat.
Emrys.
The na alone felt like a trap laid beneath silk sheets. I barely had ti to school my face before I nodded, dismissing the girl with as much calm as I could muster.
But inside?
I was panicking.
He never summoned lightly—not unless it was important or deliberate. And I hadn’t spoken to him since... since that night. Since I’d lied.
"Okay," I answered her and left to go to him imdiately.
My feet carried through the mansion on their own, down the polished halls, past watchful guards, past flowering vases and old portraits I didn’t see. All I could hear was the thrum of my heart.
When I arrived at his study, the guards stepped aside wordlessly. The door opened before I could even knock.
He was waiting.
Emrys sat behind his large mahogany desk, ink pen set down beside a stack of parchnt. The sunlight carved a soft halo around him, but it did nothing to warm the room. His eyes, green and sharp, t mine the mont I stepped inside.
"Close the door." He ordered
I obeyed, gently shutting the heavy door behind . It clicked ominously in the silence.
He didn’t speak imdiately. Instead, he studied for a mont too long, fingers steepled beneath his chin. I hated that look—it always ant he was trying to peel back my layers.
Finally, he spoke.
"So," he began, voice smooth as polished glass, "did you succeed?"
I froze. Just for a second. But I knew full well what he was asking about.
The imprinting.
"I did," I lied.
The words ca quickly, too quickly. I hated how breathless I sounded, how the lie twisted inside like a thorned vine. I forced my shoulders back, hoping he couldn’t see through .
Emrys tilted his head, the smallest frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Not quite disappointnt. Not quite amusent. He leaned back in his chair.
"Good," he said slowly. "Then let’s test your success."
!?!?!
My stomach dropped.
"What?" The word ca out before I could even think about it properly.
"I want you to send Ahin out with ," he said, rising from the chair. His movents were fluid, asured. "Into the wildlands. Nothing too deep, just a scouting run. If the imprint worked, he’ll obey without question. Protect without hesitation. Submit."
My throat closed up.
"I—" I stamred. "Is that really necessary?"
He looked at then. Not cruelly. Not even coldly. Just... knowingly.
"Why?" He asked
"I an," I gulped, my eyes wandering around for a second as I thought of an excuse, "You know, he imprinted on , not you."
"You gave your word, Enya," he said. "And if what you say is true, then this will prove it."
"How?" I asked
"Because he won’t let any harm co to because I’m your brother and he won’t try to run away either. We’re so close to the border after all."
I knew it was more than a test. Emrys didn’t trust easily. And I hadn’t just made a promise—I’d forged a deal. A thin one, sealed in silence, but binding all the sa.
He stepped past , stopping at the door.
"Have him ready to go tomorrow morning."
***
I didn’t go to Ahin right away.
I walked the halls in circles, fingers twisting in my sleeves, heart unraveling with each step. Every part of scread against it. I wanted to run to Einar, to tell him Emrys was pulling the strings again, tightening them around my neck and Ahin’s future both.
But I couldn’t.
Because this was the promise I made.
By the ti I reached the far side of the courtyard, the sun had drifted past its peak. The breeze was colder here. Ahin stood in his usual place—on the stone walkway near the old oak tree, just close enough to keep watch, just far enough not to hover.
He was watching the sky.
I paused.
He looked peaceful like that. Silent. Still. Wind tugging at the edge of his coat. He had a way of standing without tension, like the cold didn’t touch him. Like his thoughts were sowhere far off.
I almost turned around.
But he looked toward just then—his soft brown eyes catching mine—and I realized I’d stopped in my tracks. I stepped forward, boots crunching on loose gravel.
"You’ve been out here long?" I asked, my voice thin.
"Not really." He offered a small smile. "It’s quiet here. Easy to breathe."
That smile.
I hated what I had to say next.
"There’s... sothing I need to talk to you about," I said.
He straightened slightly, not alard, just attentive. He always listened to like I was saying sothing that mattered.
I took a breath.
"Emrys wants to take you outside the mansion walls. Into the wildlands."
A pause.
I watched the flicker in his eyes. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even confusion. Just stillness—as if sothing in him had frozen for a mont.
"When?" he asked.
"Soon," I said. "He wants to test your... capabilities. Says it’ll be short. Safe."
I didn’t ntion the rest. I didn’t say he wants to see if you’ll submit.
"I’ll go," Ahin said simply.
That threw off. "Just like that?"
"If it’s what you need," he said, "I’ll go."
I stared at him, struggling to find the words. "I don’t need it. That’s not—this isn’t about , Ahin."
But he just smiled again—gentle, soft, like a calm tide brushing the edge of a storm.
"You’ve always looked after ," he said. "Even before I understood why. So... let protect you this ti. If that ans going with him, I will."
My chest twisted.
I reached out—impulsive, unsure—and brushed his sleeve, fingers closing around his wrist.
His skin was warm beneath the fabric. My voice was barely above a whisper.
"Ahin..."
His eyes t mine, close now, and sothing quiet passed between us—sothing we didn’t na. The wind moved through the garden behind us, carrying the faint sound of birds and distant laughter.
I didn’t say anything else.
I couldn’t.
I just stood there, holding onto his wrist, selfishly hoping the mont would last a little longer. That maybe, just maybe, he’d stay in this quiet world I’d built
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