The river had frozen at the edges, but the current still moved beneath the cracked surface, slow and dark. The old stone bridge arched over it like a spine, worn smooth by years of boots and hooves. It looked passable — just barely — and it was the only path forward.
A man stood at its center.
Elenya and Lira reined in as soon as they saw him.
He wasn't dressed like a soldier. No armor. No uniform. Just thick leathers and a rough cloak stitched from old wool and fur. A hunter's bow was slung over his shoulder, and a pair of rabbits dangled from a belt hook.
He didn't move when they stopped.
"He could be anyone," Lira said under her breath.
"Exactly," Elenya murmured back. "That's what worries me."
They approached at a walk, boots crunching frost, hands never far from their weapons. The man shifted his weight as they neared, but made no threatening move. His eyes were pale gray, sharp beneath a wind-burned brow.
"You'll want to cross one at a time," he said. "Center stones are slick. Almost lost a mule last week."
His voice was deep, even, and roughened by cold air — not unfriendly, but not warm either.
"Appreciate the warning," Lira said, leading her mare forward.
The hunter stepped aside just enough to give her space.
"Strange time of year to be traveling this road," he added casually.
"We could say the same to you," Elenya replied, her tone cool but polite.
"Fair," he said. "But I live nearby."
"You alone out here?" Lira asked as she passed.
"Most days."
Elenya followed her across, her eyes flicking once to the frozen water below. The bridge creaked but held.
When they reached the far side, Lira turned back. "Safe travels, hunter."
He gave a nod. "Hope you find what you're looking for."
They didn't answer.
They didn't look back.
---
They rode in silence for nearly an hour after the encounter.
Then Elenya finally said, "He was watching before we got close. I saw him adjust his stance."
"I noticed," Lira said. "His eyes tracked both horses before we were in speaking distance. He's used to more than just deer and rabbits."
"You think he knew who we are?"
"No. But he knew we weren't ordinary travelers."
Elenya exhaled slowly. "We can't afford to be ordinary. Not where we're going."
They rode deeper into the trees. The air was colder now, and the path narrower — swallowed by roots and silence.
"What if he talks?" Elenya asked.
"To who?" Lira said. "This isn't court. There's no whisper network out here. He might not even see another soul for days."
Still, the unease lingered.
That hunter had looked at her like he was trying to decide whether she was prey or predator — and he hadn't quite made up his mind.
---
That night, they made camp in a half-collapsed storage barn just off the main road. Moss covered the roof, and a single beam slanted through the rafters like a broken rib. It was shelter. That was all that mattered.
Lira secured the perimeter with lines and bells made from bits of tin. "We're far enough north now that word may start to spread," she said as she worked. "If Kael Dravon has scouts, they'll hear something. The question is whether they'll care."
"They will," Elenya said, stripping off her gloves and rubbing her hands over a cold-burned lantern.
"You sound sure."
"I am."
Lira raised an eyebrow. "And if they ride to kill us instead of greet us?"
Elenya met her gaze. "Then I make them listen."
Lira smiled faintly. "Gods help the man who underestimates you."
Elenya returned the smile, but it faded fast.
"I'm not going to him as a beggar," she said. "And I'm not going to him as a frightened girl. When I step through the gates of Blackspire, I need to be something else entirely."
"What?"
"His equal."
Lira was quiet for a while after that.
The wind moaned softly through the cracked wood beams above them. Outside, snow whispered across the earth. Elenya leaned back against a hay-strewn wall, exhaustion setting into her bones.
But she could feel Lira watching her.
Eventually, Elenya asked, "You think I'm being foolish?"
"No," Lira said. "I think you're brave. And I think you don't know just how brave."
Elenya turned to face her. "Why do you say that?"
Lira hesitated, then leaned forward, voice low, like the walls might repeat her words if she spoke too loudly.
"Because you don't know half of what you escaped."
Elenya's brow furrowed. "You mean the marriage?"
"I mean the man."
Elenya's mouth went dry.
"I've served in palace halls longer than you think," Lira said. "He was a common name among the help. Every time he visited, maids were reassigned. Kitchen girls would fake illness. Once, a scullery maid cut her own palm just to be sent to the infirmary during his stay."
Elenya swallowed. "I knew he was... cruel. Cold."
"No," Lira said, her voice steel now. "He wasn't just cold. He was proud. He'd boast to other lords about how he broke girls in bed. Told them it was the only way to make a wife obedient — to ruin her first."
Elenya felt bile rise in her throat.
"I overheard him once," Lira continued. "Drunk. Talking to a lordling. Said he liked his women with a scream in them. Said a silent bride was a boring one. Laughed like it was just a hunting story."
Elenya closed her eyes, pressing her back harder against the wall as if it might hold her together.
"There's more," Lira added grimly. "When he didn't have noble girls to play with, he'd turn to servants. Guards were ordered to look the other way. Sometimes they were ordered to hold girls down."
A long, bitter silence fell.
Elenya didn't speak. Couldn't.
Lira looked at her. "Your parents knew. Maybe not everything. But enough. And they still planned the feast."
Elenya's fingers curled around the hem of her cloak, knuckles white.
"They were trading you for power," Lira said. "And they didn't care what that cost you."
"I would've killed him," Elenya said finally, voice flat and razor-edged.
"I believe you."
Lira didn't offer comfort. She offered truth. And that, somehow, was the only kindness Elenya could take.
She stared into the dark, her breath steadying.
Then she said, "When we reach Blackspire… I'll tell Kael Dravon everything. Not just about the marriage. About what I would've done to avoid it."
"You think that'll win him?"
"I think it'll earn his respect."
Lira nodded once. "And if he's like Venthar?"
"Then I'll cut his throat in his own hall."
Lira cracked a thin, humorless smile. "That's the woman I chose to follow."
---
They didn't speak again that night.
But when Elenya finally drifted to sleep, her dreams were not of gowns or vows or courtly dances.
They were of fire. And frost. And a man with eyes like winter, watching her from a throne of stone — waiting.