North POV

The return to the palace unfolded in silence.

The carriage wheels clattered against the cobblestones, each turn of the axles a reminder that the night was not yet over, though I wished it had ended the moment the music ceased.

Lanterns bobbed outside, throwing fleeting shadows across the velvet-lined interior.

Mother sat opposite me, her posture perfect, her expression one of serene delight. Her gloved hands rested neatly in her lap, her lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile as though the entire evening had been composed for her pleasure alone.

Father leaned back, shoulders squared, eyes sharp with triumph. Every so often, he exchanged a glance with her, a subtle nod, a curl of his lips—silent confirmation that everything was proceeding exactly as they had hoped.

Hill was beside me, his profile tight, jaw set, but he too remained quiet.

I did not dare speak.

The air was stifling, thick with the lingering perfume of the ballroom, the faint scent of wine, the leather and polish of the carriage itself.

My corset bit into my ribs with each shallow breath. My fingers dug crescents into my palms.

At last, Father’s voice broke the silence. It was low but resolute, the sound of a verdict already passed.
“You carried yourself well, North. The people will be satisfied. The Crown of Avenlor has seen your grace firsthand. Tomorrow, the engagement will be announced, and with it, the bond of two kingdoms sealed.”

Mother’s smile deepened, her eyes soft but firm, like silk drawn over steel.
“Sleep well tonight,” she added, her voice calm, almost tender. “You must look your best. Tomorrow will mark the beginning of your life as Crown Consort. It will be remembered.”

The words struck me like blows.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow the cage would lock.

Tomorrow the world would watch as my life ceased to be mine.

I bit down on my lower lip so hard it stung, the faint taste of copper blooming on my tongue. But I held my silence. My protests would mean nothing here. My despair would find no ears.

The rest of the ride passed without another word. Only the steady clatter of wheels and hooves filled the void.

When the carriage halted before the palace gates, Father was the first to rise. Mother followed gracefully, her hand resting lightly on his arm. They did not look back as they stepped onto the lantern-lit steps, their shadows tall and assured against the golden glow.

I followed, my steps leaden.

Servants bowed as we entered the palace, their movements silent and efficient. The grand corridors stretched before us, lined with candlelight that cast long, wavering reflections across polished marble floors. My parents moved with purpose, their conversation hushed but content. Hill trailed behind them, his expression unreadable.

When we reached the wing of my chambers, Father dismissed me with a curt nod.
“Rest,” he said. “Tomorrow will demand your strength.”

Mother’s hand brushed my arm as she passed. Her touch was gentle, but her words carried weight.
“Do not worry yourself, North. The gods have chosen well. You will understand in time.”

Understand. Obey. Endure.

I bowed my head, lips pressed tight, and turned toward the sanctuary of my chambers.

The heavy doors closed behind me with a muffled thud, shutting out the world.

Only then did I let go.

My knees weakened, carrying me no farther than the edge of the bed. I sank onto it, trembling, the silks of my garments cold and suffocating against my skin. I pressed my hands to my face, but the tears slipped free regardless.

At first they came quietly, slipping down my cheeks in silence. But soon the dam broke. My shoulders shook violently, sobs wracking my chest until the corset cut cruelly into me. Each breath tore from me ragged and shallow, the sound of grief echoing in the emptiness of the room.

I curled into myself, fists clutching at the bedding, as if I could anchor myself against the tide threatening to pull me under. My body ached from the weight of it—the dance, the eyes of the court, Johan’s gaze, his hand at my waist, his lips so close to my neck. Cold. Controlled. Unyielding.

Tomorrow, it would be sealed.

A soft knock startled me. I froze, hastily wiping at my face, though the tremors in my body betrayed me.

“North?” The voice was soft. Familiar.

I said nothing.

The door creaked open, and Hill stepped inside. He moved with care, closing the door behind him, his footsteps muted on the carpet. I turned away sharply, unwilling to let him see the ruin of me.

“North,” he said again, his tone softer now, almost pleading.

Still, I did not answer.

He approached slowly, his footsteps muted against the carpet. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat beside me. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Only the sound of my uneven breaths filled the silence.

Then, without hesitation, he slipped an arm around my shoulders and drew me against him.

The warmth of his embrace undid me completely.

A strangled sob broke free as I collapsed into his chest, my fists clutching his tunic. My tears returned, spilling hot and unrelenting.

“I don’t like him, Hill,” I wept, voice muffled against him. “I don’t. He’s so cold—so icy. There’s no warmth in him. No kindness. Nothing.”

My tears soaked into his shirt as I clutched at his sleeve.
“I don’t want to live like that. I don’t want a marriage like that. He won’t care for me. Not now, not ever.”

Hill’s hand rubbed my back in slow circles, his embrace steady. “North…” he murmured, his tone careful, soothing. “It will not be as you fear. Perhaps, in time, he—”

“No!” I jerked back, shoving his hand away, fury cutting through my despair. My tear-streaked face lifted to meet his, eyes blazing. “Don’t say that! You don’t know him—you didn’t see him! He doesn’t feel, Hill. He doesn’t want me. He only wants duty. That’s all.”

My voice broke on the last word.

“You’re my brother. The heir after Father and Mother. Why can’t you do something? Why can’t you stop this?”

Hill’s lips parted, but no words came. His expression twisted with conflict, with grief.

My chest heaved as I stared at him, desperate, broken.
“Is my happiness worth nothing?”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Hill reached for me again, but I recoiled, curling into myself, pressing my hands against my face to stifle the sobs that tore free once more.

The room was quiet save for my weeping, soft and unrelenting, filling the chamber like a dirge. Hill sat beside me, still and helpless, the weight of my anguish hanging between us like a shroud.

And for the first time, I realized—
Even here, even with him, I was alone.