The carriage rolled forward in steady silence, wheels crunching against the gravel road as the palace gates disappeared behind them.
Maya sat stiffly on the cushioned seat, hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the small window beside her. The countryside blurred past—trees, open stretches of land, the road winding onward—but the unease in her chest refused to settle.
Something feels wrong.
She shifted, the fabric of her dress rustling softly. The air inside the carriage felt heavier than it should have, as though it pressed against her skin. Her heartbeat quickened without reason, a quiet warning she couldn't explain.
"Darcien," she said at last, breaking the silence.
He sat across from her, posture straight, gaze forward, one arm resting casually against the carriage wall. "What is it?"
She hesitated, then spoke anyway. "I don't feel… right. Since we left the palace." She frowned slightly, searching for words. "It's like something is waiting for us."
He looked at her then—briefly. His expression didn't change.
"You are tired," he said evenly. "The days have been long."
Maya frowned. "That's not it."
He said nothing more, his attention returning to the road ahead. No reassurance. No questions.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt. "You don't feel it at all?" she asked quietly.
Darcien's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "This road is used often," he replied. "Nothing will happen."
The answer was careful. Too careful.
Maya leaned back against the seat, unsettled. He's lying. Or… not telling me everything.
Outside, the carriage moved deeper into a stretch of forest, the trees growing closer together, shadows stretching long across the road. Sunlight filtered through the branches in fractured patterns, flickering like uneasy thoughts.
Maya swallowed. "If something does happen," she said softly, "will you tell me?"
Darcien did not answer right away.
The truth sat heavy in his chest. He knew. He had known the moment the queen's smile lingered too long, the moment she had not protested their departure. The silence had been permission.
"They will come," he thought. Not if—when.
But he did not say it aloud.
Instead, he met Maya's gaze briefly. "Stay inside the carriage," he said. "No matter what you hear."
Her stomach tightened. That wasn't an answer either.
The carriage continued on, unaware—or perhaps fully aware—that the road ahead had already been chosen for them.
The carriage rolled forward in steady silence, wheels crunching against the gravel road as the palace gates disappeared behind them.
Maya sat stiffly on the cushioned seat, hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the small window beside her. The countryside blurred past—trees, open stretches of land, the road winding onward—but the unease in her chest refused to settle.
Something feels wrong.
She shifted, the fabric of her dress rustling softly. The air inside the carriage felt heavier than it should have, as though it pressed against her skin. Her heartbeat quickened without reason, a quiet warning she couldn't explain.
"Darcien," she said at last, breaking the silence.
He sat across from her, posture straight, gaze forward, one arm resting casually against the carriage wall. "What is it?"
She hesitated, then spoke anyway. "I don't feel… right. Since we left the palace." She frowned slightly, searching for words. "It's like something is waiting for us."
He looked at her then—briefly. His expression didn't change.
"You are tired," he said evenly. "The days have been long."
Maya frowned. "That's not it."
He said nothing more, his attention returning to the road ahead. No reassurance. No questions.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt. "You don't feel it at all?" she asked quietly.
Darcien's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "This road is used often," he replied. "Nothing will happen."
The answer was careful. Too careful.
Maya leaned back against the seat, unsettled. He's lying. Or… not telling me everything.
Outside, the carriage moved deeper into a stretch of forest, the trees growing closer together, shadows stretching long across the road. Sunlight filtered through the branches in fractured patterns, flickering like uneasy thoughts.
Maya swallowed. "If something does happen," she said softly, "will you tell me?"
Darcien did not answer right away.
The truth sat heavy in his chest. He knew. He had known the moment the queen's smile lingered too long, the moment she had not protested their departure. The silence had been permission.
"They will come," he thought. Not if—when.
But he did not say it aloud.
Instead, he met Maya's gaze briefly. "Stay inside the carriage," he said. "No matter what you hear."
Her stomach tightened. That wasn't an answer either.
The carriage continued on, unaware—or perhaps fully aware—that the road ahead had already been chosen for them.