Chapter 6 Ravencrest

Elara's POV

The carriage ride took three days, and I spent most of it staring out the window at land that grew colder and darker the further we went, like the whole world was slowly draining of color the closer we got to wherever it was taking me.

Ashenvale's hills were green even in winter. By the second day, the fields outside my window had gone grey and brittle, trees bare and twisted in ways that made me think of hands reaching up out of the ground instead of branches reaching toward the sky.

In the carriage, I was seated next to Lord Cassian, who was silent throughout, as if choosing me to marry the dark prince was something normal.

My heart palpitated. I didn't want to go; I was scared to die.

‘What if I don't stay for 6 months, but rather die in the first week?’ These thoughts ran through my mind, sending shivers down my spine.

I didn't cry on the ride, though I came close more than once. I kept thinking about my mother's hand gripping mine on the palace steps, about Tristan's jaw clenched so tight I thought he might crack a tooth, about Isolde's face streaked with tears she couldn't stop no matter how many times I told her it would be alright. I didn't believe that when I said it. I don't think she believed it either. We both just needed something to say.

After some time, I realized we were no longer in an unknown space; we were nearing the main castle where my supposed killer lives. ‘The prince’.

I opened my window to see the life going on outside, and I could see some members of Ravencrest looking at me with one corner of their eyes, with pity clearly visible on their faces. I didn't need to know why they were casting pity glances at me, because I knew they all had in mind that I was going to die soon.

Ravencrest's main castle gates rose out of the grey. Black stone climbing higher than any wall I had ever seen, and the guards who opened them for the carriage didn't speak a single word to me, didn't even really look at me, just moved with the practiced efficiency of people who had done this exact task six times before and expected to do it again.

The thought landed in my stomach like a stone.

Cassian got out of the carriage first, then gave me his hand to step down.

“We're here, Lady Elara.”

Immediately after I got down, a wave of cold air hit me, sending shivers down my spine.

I took my carriage bag and followed Lord Cassian as we walked into the corridor of the castle.

Inside, the castle was beautiful in a way that made my skin prickle, with dark polished floors, high arched ceilings, and everything built to impress. But that didn't make me feel comfortable. Everything felt dull and cold, like daggers directed toward my throat.

No one came to meet us to give a proper welcome. I wasn't bothered. After all, I didn't care. Who would care about such a thing when they know they're walking their feet into the cells of death?

Servants moved through the halls quickly, quietly, eyes down. I saw some giving me pitying and sympathetic looks, while others just kept their eyes down without stealing glances. Lord Cassian was right next to me.

“Where is the chief maid?”

he asked no one in particular, because no one answered, but all the maids stopped in their tracks and bowed their heads like frightened mice.

“What the heck?” I whispered under my breath.

A woman met me at the base of the grand staircase. She looked quite old; she was a little bit plump and had a few grey hairs. I assumed she was the person Lord Cassian was asking about, because immediately after she showed up, Cassian said she would handle the rest and left.

“I'm Jessica, the chief maid,” she said, and I nodded.

“Elara.”

“You don't need the luggage. There are dresses in your wardrobe.”

“I still need these. They give me memories of home.”

“Home is the past. Embrace your current life.”

She sounded rude. I left the luggage in the corridor and quietly followed her without asking further questions.

She led me up toward what I assumed would be my rooms. She didn't ask about my journey. She didn't ask if I was tired, or hungry, or frightened out of my mind, which I was.

"This wing is yours,"

she said, stopping before a set of heavy doors near the end of a long corridor.

"Your chambers are here. The Prince's private study is through there. And his room is on the other side, but don't try going there until he calls you in." She gestured to a hallway branching off to the left.

"You will not need to concern yourself with the rest of this floor."

"Why not?"

She looked at me then, properly, for the first time since we'd started walking, something flickering behind her eyes that might have been pity or might have been warning.

"Some doors in this palace are better left closed, my lady." She said it simply, like she was commenting on the weather.

"I'd advise you to remember that."

“Which doors exactly?”

“Every door on the second floor.”

“And why are they locked, and why can't I go in?”

She didn't answer, but rather gave me a cold, faint smile.

I tried to ignore what she said, even though it made me feel slightly uneasy.

My rooms, when she finally showed me into them, were larger than anything I had ever slept in, with a large bed, a brown blanket, an enormous wardrobe, a big dressing mirror, and other female cosmetics.

"Dinner will be brought to you this evening," the woman said, already turning to leave.

"You'll meet the household properly tomorrow."

"Wait," I said before she could go.

"Will I meet the Prince tonight?"

Something crossed her face, gone before I could read it properly. "The Prince keeps his own hours," she said. "You'll understand soon enough."

She left before I could ask what that meant either.

I stood alone in that enormous, unfamiliar room for a long while after she had gone, listening to the sound the air was making, feeling the full, sudden weight of everything settle onto my chest at once, the palace, the silence, the six women who had stood in this exact room before me and were no longer anywhere at all.

I walked to the window instead of letting myself cry, watching the wind move through the dead gardens below, and without meaning to, I felt something answer it, a faint gust curling up against the glass like it had noticed me noticing it. I pressed my palm flat to the cold pane and didn't understand, not yet, what that small, strange comfort actually was.

The rest of the day passed quickly, with me just staring at the dead garden through the enormous window.

Later in the evening, after I had taken my bath and was lying in bed, a young maid slipped into the room to light the remaining candles, quick and quiet, careful not to meet my eyes the way everyone else in this palace seemed to be.

"There's a door at the end of the east corridor,"

I said, more to make conversation than anything else, gesturing vaguely in the direction the head of household had warned me away from.

"What's through there?"

The maid's hands stilled on the candle she was lighting. For a moment she didn't answer at all, and when she finally did, her voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

"Never open that one, my lady," she said. "Please. Whatever you do and whatever sound you hear, please don't go there."

She was gone before I could ask her why.