The gates of our estate come into view first — tall wrought iron shaped into curling vines, the same design we've had for generations. They've always looked a little too ornate to me, but familiar all the same. Beyond them, the main house rises in pale stone, solid and symmetrical, its three stories lined with tall windows framed in dark wood. When I was younger, I used to watch the birds gather on those windowsills — sparrows, mostly. They always seemed to know when the kitchen scraps were coming.
The carriage rolls into the front courtyard, the white paving stones bright in the afternoon light. The two fountains on either side still run the way they always have, steady and predictable. I used to fall asleep to that sound; the nights away felt too quiet without it. The air smells faintly of jasmine from Laurien's garden — she must have trimmed things recently; the hedges look sharper than when I left.
Servants cross the courtyard in quick, practiced lines, and the banners of our house hang from the balcony above the entrance. Deep blue, silver thread, the crescent moon and star. They look exactly as they should. For a moment, the tightness in my chest eases. This place has always felt steady to me, even when everything else didn't.
But as Vaeroth steps through the gate behind me, something in the air shifts — not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for me to feel it. The estate looks the same, but it doesn't feel untouched anymore.
We're barely through the doors when I hear the soft, rapid padding of feet. Laurien all but throws herself at me, her usual composure forgotten as she pulls me into a tight hug. Normally I might bristle at such a gesture, but now it's all I can do not to crumple into her.
"I'm so glad you're safe," she says quietly, her voice warm and comforting, and my eyes sting at the sound of it. I blink a few times as she pulls back, not wanting to be seen in such an embarrassing state.
Laurien's eyes drift to Vaeroth, and her expression tightens ever so slightly. She steps between us and dips into a curtsey. "And you must be Vaeroth. I've heard how you saved my sister," she says. Her tone is polite, but tight. She stays between us in a way that feels oddly unnecessary.
"I am indeed. It's a pleasure to meet you," Vaeroth says, matching Laurien's polite tone.
I jump at a sudden clatter and look over to see a servant scrambling to pick up his tray and the empty cups that had sat atop it. He stiffens noticeably as all attention turns toward him.
"Apologies — he's new. I hope it didn't startle you," Laurien lies quickly.
"That's alright. I seem to have that effect on people." Vaeroth smiles and moves to help the servant retrieve a cup that has rolled away.
The man bows hastily, nearly toppling the cups again, before excusing himself without a word. Vaeroth watches him go, a complicated look on his face.
"Elara, please — Vaeroth must be tired. Why don't you show him to his room," Laurien says, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Of course, my lady. This way, please," Elara says gently to Vaeroth, her head bowed respectfully.
Vaeroth smiles politely at Elara and follows her out of the room. "Are you part of Liriel's family?" I hear him ask, curious as ever, and a tired sigh slips out before I can stop it. How can someone so sharp ask such an awkward question.
Laurien looks briefly perplexed, but she turns her attention back to me. "Let's talk in my room," she says, looping her arm through mine and guiding me away without waiting for an answer.
Once inside, she sits me beside her on the bed and turns fully toward me, adjusting a strand of my hair as if by reflex. "What happened?" she asks gently.
The question hits like a blow to the chest, sharp and sudden. "I… I don't know. Everything was fine, and then—" My breath catches. "One of the guards stepped out of line, and something exploded, and then everyone was shouting, and Baron Elenvar's men just—just turned on each other, on Mother and me, and—"
The rest breaks loose all at once.
"I didn't understand what was happening. I couldn't even move. They were killing each other, Laurien. Right in front of me. I've never— I've never seen anyone die before, and there were so many, and I just stood there like an idiot, and the seal— the seal just crumbled like dust, and I should've done something, I should've—"
My voice collapses into a sob. I press my hands to my face, but the tears spill through my fingers anyway.
"I should've helped them. I should've saved someone. I didn't even try. I just froze. They died and I just— I just watched."
I don't realize I'm shaking until Laurien pulls me into her arms, wiping the tears from my cheeks with gentle, steady hands.
Laurien holds me tighter, one hand smoothing my hair the way she used to when I was little. "Liriel… no. No, you listen to me." Her voice is soft but steady, the kind she only uses when she's trying not to cry herself. "None of that was your fault. Do you understand? Not one part of it."
I shake my head, but she cups my face, forcing me to meet her eyes.
"You think you should've stopped it? Liriel, even Mother couldn't have stopped something like that — and she's been renewing the seal for decades." Her thumb brushes another tear away. "The seal was failing long before you got there. We all knew it. You were the only one who even had a chance of strengthening it."
She swallows, her voice tightening.
"And don't you dare think I could've done better. I couldn't have held that seal for a heartbeat. I've known that my whole life." A small, sad smile. "I would've taken your place if I could. But I couldn't. None of this happened because of you."
Her voice wavers, but she steadies it.
"And those guards… Liriel, you didn't kill them. You didn't make them turn on each other. You were caught in something no one could've predicted. Freezing doesn't make you weak. It makes you normal — I… gods, Liriel, when I read Mother's letter, I couldn't breathe."
She pulls me into her again, arms firm around my shoulders.
"You survived, you kept Mother alive. That's all anyone could've hoped for."
I don't say anything. I just lean into her, my fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. I feel like a child, but I don't care — not now. I just need my sister. We stay like this for… I don't know how long, until a gentle knock breaks the quiet.
I look up as the door opens and Father steps inside. He stops mid‑stride when he sees us.
"Liriel, you're here?" he says, surprised. His eyes meet mine, and something in his expression falters. I wipe at my face, embarrassed by how puffy my eyes must look.
"No matter." He clears his throat and takes a step toward us, then hesitates, as if unsure whether he's intruding. "The council… they've decided. You're going to face a trial. You and Vaeroth both."
The room tilts. I might have fallen if not for Laurien's hand tightening its grip on my dress at the same moment. The fear I'd finally let go of surges back all at once. Father must see it, because he closes the distance instantly and takes my hands in his.
"You're going to be fine, Liriel," he says, voice rough but determined. "We'll see this through. You're not alone. You have me, your sister — and thank the gods for your mother. She's never met a situation she couldn't turn to victory."
Where is Mother?" I ask softly, squeezing Father's hands in gratitude.
"She went to your room. She's probably waiting for you there." His expression softens into something almost apologetic. "Go see her. I need to speak with Laurien anyway."
Laurien's fingers tighten in the fabric of my dress, a tiny, reluctant tug, but she releases me a heartbeat later and gives me a gentle push forward. I rise, though part of me wants to stay anchored beside her. Father is right — if anyone can turn this around, it's Mother.
"Yes… I'll go see her," I say, wiping at my eyes again, suddenly self‑conscious about how swollen they must look.
I step out into the hall, still wiping at my eyes. As I round the corner, I stop short.
Mother is standing close to Vaeroth — too close — her hand resting lightly on his arm as she speaks to him in a low, familiar tone. Something tightens in my chest. Of course she's speaking with him first.
She turns at the sound of my footsteps, her hand slipping from his arm as if it had never been there.
"Ah, Liriel. You're here." She gives me a brief hug, warm but fleeting. "I'll give you two a moment. Come find me in your room when you're done." She releases me and is already turning away.
My lips press together as she walks off. A moment? With him? I scoff inwardly, baffled by whatever she thinks she's doing. Just because she's fawning over Vaeroth doesn't mean I am. I turn to him, and his calm expression only irritates me further.
"What were you two chatting so cozily about?" I ask, my voice sharper than I meant.
"Apparently I'm to become a lion," Vaeroth says, entirely unbothered, a soft chuckle escaping him.
"You're not as clever as you think," I snap.
"No one ever is." He shrugs, casual as ever. "Actually, your mother also suggested I educate myself — on the past."
"History?" I ask, the realization settling. "Right… let's go. I'll show you to the library."
"Wasn't your mother expecting you?" he asks mildly.
"She said when we were done. We're not done." The words come out more stubborn than I intend.
His eyes meet mine for the first time, and I can see him register the swelling around them. I stiffen, bracing for some teasing remark.
"That's true," he says instead, gesturing down the wrong hall. "Lead the way."
I roll my eyes and head down the correct corridor, his footsteps soft behind me. When I push open the library doors, the familiar scent of old paper and polished wood washes over me. Shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, packed with the histories of every noble house worth remembering.
"Here. Start with ours." I pull down the volume I know best — the one that covers our family's history. Most of what it says about the sealing is vague, the specifics lost generations ago, but my ancestor wrote about Vaeroth with a severity that always felt… personal. Every line about him drips with judgment.
I grab another book at random and drop into a chair at the nearest table. Then I look up at him, daring him to question why I'm still here — daring him to react at all.
"Thanks," he says cheerfully, taking the book. He sits across from me and begins reading. I flip through my own book idly, more lost in old lessons and half‑remembered lineages than actually reading. Every so often I turn a page just to look occupied.
Vaeroth, however, frowns. He gets up, retrieves another book, then another. Soon he has several open in front of him, and for the first time since I've met him, he doesn't look calm.
"You seem upset," I say, though the satisfaction I expected doesn't come.
He looks up, then takes a slow breath — I can practically see him counting the seconds. "I was a monster," he says at last, his voice steady but quiet. "I didn't just kill elves. I turned on my own kingdom. And then even my own men… I killed one of my own generals for not following my strategy. But it sounds like I was leaving his soldiers to die as bait so I could accomplish a bigger goal…"
"Yeah... you were a monster. but you aren't right now." I say with a sigh, not even sure if that's true, but seeing him like this isn't doing me any good. "You want to beat yourself up for the past fine, but wait until after the trial, I'm not going to be condemned because you're moping. I didn't spend two days dealing with your nonsense just for you to become like this. Either you're the Vaeroth from history and therefore a monster who doesn't care, or you're someone else, which means the you now didn't do those things."
He looks at me for a moment, saying nothing, before letting out a soft, almost amused sigh. "Your mother cares about you more than you think," he says suddenly.
"What? That's not what we're talking about." My irritation flares — partly at him, partly at the way my chest tightens at the mention of her. "Just shut up and get ready for the trial." I'm tempted to kick him under the table.
I sit there stubbornly for a few more minutes, pretending to read, but my mind keeps drifting to my mother waiting in my room. The thought gnaws at me until I can't ignore it anymore.
Without a word, I push back my chair and storm out of the library.