Word Count: 2236

~Aesira

I slide back into the carriage, my hands shaking slightly.

Everin is exactly where I left him earlier. He now watches me as I settle into the seat, my interaction with Lincoln still weighing heavy on my shoulders.

"Done?" He asks softly.

"All done." I adjust my dress against my thighs, drawing in slow, calming breaths.

Everin's keen gaze takes in the movement, a small crease forming between his brows. It's as if he can sense my guilt in the few seconds I've been in the transport, even though I'm doing everything I can to appear nonchalant.

"You look flustered," he observes.

"I just said what may be my final goodbye to the only male I have ever loved." I pin him with a glare. "How should I feel right now?"

His head leans back against his seat. He feels guilty — as he should.

The carriage starts off, back in the direction of Everin's manor. We remain silent for a time, staring out our respective windows as we pass through the penitentiary gates before gliding through town.

Eventually, I feel the weight of his assessing stare on me once again, but I promptly ignore it.

"You neck..." he whispers.

My fingers immediately raise to brush over the tender spot at the curve of my neck where Lincoln bit me. He wanted Everin to see, and now, he is getting his wish.

I brush my hair over the spot so Everin can no longer see it. "He got a bit carried away."

I don't dare look at Everin, knowing what he is probably thinking. He would be wrong, and maybe I should assuage his fears, but I cannot bring myself to. Not when he intends to have Lincoln executed.

Let him think I let Lincoln kiss me.

The silence is thick, wrought with tension. I have learnt that Everin goes preternaturally still when he is thinking — especially when his thoughts are troubled.

I can't see a single muscle moving in the corner of my eye.

For most of the ride back, as don't speak. We travel along the main road toward the manor, passing by homes and village shops, and curious swathes of people watching us go by.

By the time we are leaving the town, my leg begins to ache.

The scar on my leg becomes unbearably stiff, my muscle throbbing below. The only way I've found to relieve it, is to massage it myself with oils, and then I stretch. It supplies me with some relief, but the ache always returns.

As of late, if feels as though it is worsening.

Absently, my hand drifts down, pressing my thumb into the aching spot. It hurts, but in such a way I know it will relieve the tension.

"Everything okay?" Everin asks. The sudden presence of his voice in the cabin almost makes me flinch.

"I'm fine." I withdraw my hand, opting to try shifting into a more comfortable position.

"You look uncomfortable." He frowns, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his thighs. "Is your leg bothering you?"

"No. It's fine," I mutter, adjusting again.

Everin's concern for my comfort baffles me to this day. I assume the guilt haunts him, knowing his staff nearly killed me in his own home, but his attentiveness is exhausting. It prompts me to warm to him, to feel what I seldom allow myself to feel.

He reaches for my thigh, like he might begin to massage it. It wouldn't the first time he has offered me relief in such a way, and each time I've turned him down.

"I can—"

I recoil, plastering the skirt of my dress down against my thighs. "I'm not wearing any under-things, alright? Do not come closer."

A flicker of surprise crosses his face, only for it to be swallowed by apprehension, and then hurt.

Everything Everin admitted to me last night, and then his offer to bring me here to say goodbye to Lincoln, only for this...I can understand why he's hurt, why hearing this has taken him aback so much.

I could let him think I did sleep with Lincoln, let him stew about it for the rest of the day. It wouldn't even begin to be payback for what he is inflicting on Lincoln.

But I cannot bear it.

"I didn't fuck him, Everin," I breathe, hoping he will believe me. The mark on my neck is damning, and so is my lack of panties, but surely he does not think I would do such a thing after last night's admission.

He turns to look out the window, the line of his jaw set hard, cool indifference laced into his voice.

"It doesn't matter to me."

"I ended my romantic relationship with him..."

"Why bother?" There is something dark and vicious in his eyes when they meet mine again. "He's to die soon anyway."

I flinch, my stomach twisting.

"You're being cruel," I whisper.

Should I expect anything else? He isn't my friend, and after all, he's the enemy of my family line. There is no loyalty between us.

Realising himself, his face softens, his indifference melting away.

"Aesira—"

A loud bang on the outside of the cabin cuts him off and makes me jump. With a frown, he leaves out the seat to look out the small window.

I join him, seeing a crowd of people outside. They are hurrying to keep up with the carriage, their mouths open around shouts, their voices muffled from the walls of the cabin.

My discussion with Everin distracted me completely from what's been going on outside.

"What is happening?" I ask worriedly, seeing sneers on most of the villagers faces.

"There's a mob forming. We need to get you back to the manor." He pushes me gently back down into my seat.

Lines of worry have formed around his mouth as he realises what I am beginning to...

Those people out there know an Ashwood is in here, and they want to kill me.

Maven has briefly mentioned discourse in the village regarding me. I am not liked here in the slightest, nor am I trusted. And somehow, I am allowed to live just out of reach of them, in the Alpha's manor.

Now that I am out, they are taking the opportunity to get to me.

"If they get in here, they will kill me," I exclaim, sliding to the other end of the seat, away from the door. I have nothing to defend myself in here.

Hands slap against the exterior, faces trying to peer inside until Everin promptly shuts the curtain.

"They won't, don't worry," he assures me tensely. "They are just enraged. There has been public unrest over me taking you as my wife."

We share a knowing look.

It is more than just our marriage that has angered them. It is the fact that I still live, months later. Instead of disposing of me, as they would prefer, Everin has allowed me to continue living in his proximity.

It confounds even me. I cannot even begin to understand the extent of their confusion.

"Everin..."

He shifts to face me. "Nothing will happen to you again, okay? I've promised you, and I intend to keep that promise."

I nod. I have no other choice but to trust him.

Mercifully, we make it to the gates of the manor. Everin's guards keep the mob from following us back inside, although their shouts rent the air, even as we're taking around the other side of the manor and let out.

"How much danger am I in?" I ask, the pain in my leg forgotten as I turn back to the home with Everin by my side.

"As long as you are within the bounds of my property, you are completely safe." He nods to a guard who opens a door for us.

"Something must be done about this." What if one gets in again? What if they come for me, as his staff members did?

The thought makes me feel ill. I can't relive that terror...

"I'll make an address to the village. I'll tell them to respect my decision to marry you."

I shake my head. "It won't work."

"They respect me. It will quell majority of the dissenting voices, and the rest will be dealt with if they act against you," he states, although it sounds like he is trying to convince himself more than me.

Those people have no reason to trust an Ashwood. I'm sure they know me to be the spy I am, the assassin I am. How can I blame them for wanting me dead, when the same would be the case in father's pack?

I look ahead of me, my spinning. "I hope so."

We're about to go our separate ways — me to my quarters, and Everin's to his — but he grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop.

"Aesira."

"What?"

There's a war of emotions on his face, each vying for superiority. Uncertainty, hurt, anger.

"Did you sleep with him?" He asks lowly, brows pressing together.

"No." I swallow, looking away. "I don't feel that way about him anymore. I fear I've been ruined for anyone else."

He doesn't say a word as I brush past him, heading in the direction of the stairs. My words linger between us, a meaning cast behind them that I refuse to contemplate in this moment.

I walk until I reach the foot of the stairs that lead to my room, only to find Edwin standing there, leaning his arm on the balustrade.

My blood chills and I immediately halt.

I've been dutifully avoiding Edwin for weeks now. Everin had sent him off to tend to his army at the front lines, and only recently has he returned. Every time we encounter each other, we ignore it each other.

But today, it's clear he's been waiting for me.

Holding my breath, I go to rush past him, but he grabs my elbow, jerking me to a stop.

"Let me go," I hiss, ripping my arm from his grip, stumbling back a few steps.

Edwin disgusts me. I can't be sure I wasn't dreaming the night when I was injured and he entered my room, speaking crassly and sniffing my hair.

Yet, something tells me it was real, and that I should be very afraid of him.

"Calm down," he mutters with a roll of his eyes. "You've been avoiding me."

"Of course I've been avoiding you. I hate you," I snap. Is he forgetting that his battle instructions have led to countless deaths of my pack members?

He crosses his arms. "You need to resume training."

"Everin said I could return to it when I'm ready," I mutter, retreating yet another step. He even told me I didn't need to go back to it, knowing it was what weakened me the night of the attack.

Edwin's face pulls into a disgusted sneer. Is he seriously disagreeing with a command from his Alpha?

"It's been weeks. It is time for you to return to the mat."

"If it isn't clear, I'm capable of kicking you ass. I don't need to train with you." And I refuse to get that close to him again.

At least Maven took my advice and has been avoiding him as well. Whatever I said to her must have resonated.

"A lot of people want you dead. You must train," he insists.

"Like you give a fuck. You tried to kill me." I go to weave past him again, wanting to get to the safety of my room, where my dagger is, but he grabs me once again.

This time, he yanks me close enough to seize both my arms in his grip. Our faces come so close, I can see the finer details of him.

"I reckon there's use for you yet." He tightens his grip on my arms, kneading the flesh to the point it's almost painful.

I attempt to wrestle out, but he's strong. "Get the fuck off me, creep."

He grins, invigorated by refusal of him. "You're a feisty thing, huh?"

"What is your problem?" How can he be so bold? What would Everin do if he saw this interaction?

Would he side with me, or his second? The idea of him choosing the latter fills me with more despair than I would like to admit.

He pulls me close enough that I can feel his breath warming my face.

"I see why Everin is so enamoured by you." He looks down over me. "You look like a fun ride."

I see red.

Before I can put any thought to the consequences, I raise my knee and drive it into his stomach. His grip loosens, a pained cough escaping his throat.

Shoving him back into the balustrade, I hurry up the stairs, my heart slamming against my ribs. I run all the way to my bedroom door, locking it behind me.

Hurriedly, I grab my dagger, watching the door for a moment, waiting for Edwin to appear on the other side, angered by my rejection.

But nothing comes, and not once do I venture back downstairs.

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~Midika 💜🐈‍⬛