Dawn painted the sky in the streaks of rose and gold as Silas guided the carriage onto the main road. Layla watched from the window, her palm pressed against the cool glass.
The familiar silhouette of the Blackthorn farm-the sturdy farmhouse, the old oak guarding the graves, the rolling fields of barley-shrank behind them, becoming a small, precious painting against a landscape.
A sharp ache bloomed beneath her ribs, but she swallowed it down. This felt like an adventure, not exile.
Lucia and Livia, seated by her sides. Shared her mixed emotions, their faces also turned to the window.
I never thought I'd see the capital, Livia murmured, her voice full of awe as the last familiar fence post passed by.
''Just keep your wits about you,'' Lucia replied, ever practical. Cities breed different kind of trouble than country lanes,
The hours blurred into a rhythm of turning wheels and changing scenery. The cozy, familiar cottages of their village gave way to larger stone houses, then to a busy market towns where the press of people and cacophony of merchants felt overwhelming.
During a stop to water the horses at a bustling coaching inn, Livia leaned closer to Layla, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Did you dee them? At the corner table?
Layla followed her gaze. Two men sat cloaked in shadow, their movement possessing a fluid, unnatural grace.
Their pale skin seemed to almost glow in the dim light, and their eyes, when they flicked up, held a piercing, ancient stillness. Vampires.
I saw,'' Layla said, a shiver tracing her spine despite the inn's warmth.
They're everywhere now, Livia continued, her eyes wide. ''walking among the rich as if they own the place. I heard a merchants say the kingdoms seek peace. An end to all the fighting.
A wave of relief washed over Layla. Wouldn't that promise a better world? Those soldiers… their families… they must crave an end to the fear, Of them never coming back home. Peace seems a blessing, not a cures, I'm sure they are also sick of the fighting.
Lucia remained skeptical. ''A blessing with fangs remains a dangerous thing.peace treaties often mean political payments. Someone always pays the price, but that is not our concern.
They journey resumed. To distract themselves from Lucia's ominous words, they spoke of happier things.
We'll find father's shop first,'' Layla said, thread of excitement in her voice. The 'Blackthorn Hearth.' he always loved supplying the city folk with our farm's honey and preserves. I wonder if old Mr. Pembroke managed it well.
Perhaps you could take over its running, Livia suggested brightly. ''with the farm's harvest-may it still prove good this year-and the shop, you'd build a fine little empire.
Layla laughed, the sound light and free inside the carriage, ''Empress of honey and jam! I'll appoint you you both as my royal taste-testers.
They fell into easy laughter, weaving dreams of a future built on their own terms, their grief momentarily forgotten in a shared daydream.
Their laughter, however, drew a sneer from the liveried driver on his perch. He'd overheard their conversation through the small window.
A fine empire,'' he muttered. Loud enough for them to hear his disgust. ''A country mouse playing merchant queen. You'll last a week before the city grinds you into the dust you crawled from. Your 'harvest' will line the pockets of your betters soon enough, just you wait.''
The smile vanished from Layla's face. The twins fell silent, their postures stiffening.
Layla didn't look at him. She didn't grant him a moment of her anger. Instead, she turned her her gaze back to the passing world, her voice calm and clear, meant for her maids but carrying on the air.
Some people, she said, confuse their own bitterness for wisdom. They believe dragging others down elevates them. It only reveals the poverty of their own character.
She said nothing more. The driver, overhearing every word, stiffened. His face flushed a mottled red. Her quiet, cutting observation infuriated him far more than any shouted insult could have. He'd tried to poison their joy and found his venom useless. He spent the rest of the journey in a sulking, furious silence, which suited the three women inside perfectly.
As the sun began its descent, the city's outer walls loomed ahead- towering monoliths of grey stone. The traffic on the road thickened, a river of humanity and commerce flowing toward the mighty gates.
The hopeful dreams of the road began to fade, replaced by a nervous anticipation. Their adventure reached its end. The capital awaited..
The city gate stood before them, a massive arch of weather-worn stone. Soldiers in polished armor moved with an efficiency that felt alien, their eyes scanning every face. One guard, his expression bored, thrust a hand toward their carriage. ''Papers.
Silas handed over the documents with a grunt. The guard glanced at the blackthorn seal, gave a curt nod, and waved them through.
Passing under the shadow of the gate felt like entering another world. Livia gasped, pressing her face to the carriage window. Lucia eyes widened, taking in the sheer scale of it all.
The noise hit them first-a roaring river of clattering wheels, and a thousand overlapping conversations. The air itself smelled different, a mix of baking bread, horse dung, and expensive perfume. The roads, paved with smooth, clean stone, stretched away in straight, impossible lines, flanked by buildings that for the sky. Everywhere, people moved with a swift, purposeful energy that made their quiet country life feel a world away.
Look at it all, Livia breathed, her voice full of wonder.
Keep your wits, Lucia reminded her, though her own knuckle showed white where she gripped the seat.
Silas navigated the traffic with a focused scowl, his hands tight on the reins. After a long while pushing deeper into a quieter, more opulent district, he called back through the small window, ''the shop can wait for morning's light.
Layla, her stomach a knot of nerves, agreed. yes. Best to get this meeting over with.
Silas guided the carriage down a wide avenue lined with majestic townhouse, each one a testament to wealth and power. He pulled the horses to a stop before a particular residence, its pale stone facade imposing and severe. this is the place. Just as I remember it.
And not just this one. The houses on either side, equally grand, bore the same distinct Blackthorn raven crest above their doors. Her uncles homes. A united front of cold formidable strength.
The twin stared, their earlier excitement now tempered by the sheer grandeur. what do you think it looks like inside? Livia whispered her voice hushed.
Layla didn't answer. Her gaze remained fixed on the heavy oak door. Her father's stories, few and bitter, painted a picture of arguments and final, permanent rift. He had chosen a life of love and soil over this… this cold stone. Standing before it now, she felt like a ghost from his past, unsure of her welcome. She clutched her mother's shawl tight, hoping only for a civil reception.