Chapter Fourteen

Dawn crept slowly, cautiously through the cracks of the room. Thin lines of light turned into golden dust as they touched the stone and the floor. In the silence, every sound carried weight: the final crackle of embers in the fireplace, the faint whisper of the curtain in the breeze, the first birdsong outside. The air was fresh, rich with dew, earth, and flowers—as if the world itself were celebrating the birth of a new day.

My eyes opened slowly, but I remained still for several moments. I lay there, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, listening to the quiet trill of birds and the steady beat of my heart. It was not racing. It was not choked by panic, nor pierced by anxiety. It simply beat. Steady, slow—at peace.

When I shifted, I felt the soft cloak draped over my shoulders. It wasn’t mine—Aedan had placed it there the night before, when sleep finally claimed me. My chest tightened at the memory. His embrace, his words, his patience… they pulsed within me as though etched beneath my skin.

I sat up slowly, and in the corner of the room I noticed a low table. Upon it lay neatly folded clothes. Not rags. Not servant’s attire. Simple, finely woven trousers, a soft long-sleeved shirt, and a deep crimson cloak. My breath caught at the sight. These were not given to humiliate.

These were meant for me.

My chest constricted, my eyes burned. All my life I had worn tattered rags that offered no warmth, no dignity. No one had ever cared if I was comfortable, if I was covered, if I was treated like a human being. And now, before me, was something chosen for my comfort. For my protection.

With trembling fingers, I reached for the clothes. The fabric was soft, warm against my skin. A shiver ran through me. A part of me couldn’t believe they were truly mine—that I could deserve them.

Slowly, I dressed. The trousers fit easily, not tight, not rough. The shirt wrapped me gently, its fabric caressing my arms. And when I pulled the cloak around me, its weight felt like a shield. Not a chain—but armor.

I stood in the center of the room and looked down at myself. My throat closed. For the first time, I felt like more than just one among many. For the first time, I felt that I mattered. That I had worth.

The door creaked softly. My heart skipped, but when Aedan stepped inside, my lungs filled with air. His golden gaze found me instantly. As his eyes swept over me in the new clothes, I saw light kindle within them. He said nothing. No loud praise, no empty flattery. He simply looked. And in that look, it was clear: he saw me as beautiful. As valuable.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his deep voice resonating in the morning air. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, though my throat was tight. But as I drew a breath, I felt the warmth of the cloak, the softness of the fabric, and his presence—and all of it gave me strength.

He stepped to the table, picked up a short dagger, and held it out to me, hilt first.

“If you wish, you may keep it,” he said. “You don’t need to be afraid. But it feels good to know you can defend yourself.”

With shaking hands, I reached for the weapon. When the hilt settled into my palm, something inside me shifted. It wasn’t the blade itself that gave me strength—it was the faith he placed in me by giving it. I tucked it carefully beneath my cloak at my belt, then lifted my gaze back to him.

Aedan’s lips curved in a faint smile as he extended his hand. For a heartbeat I hesitated, then slid my hand into his. His grip was firm but not crushing. Warm. Safe.

And as he turned toward the door, I walked at his side.

⸻

When we stepped outside, the fresh air of morning brushed softly across my face. The first rays of sunlight pierced through the trees, scattering golden patches across the ground. The breeze whispered, birdsong filled the air. The world was alive. And for the first time, I felt it freely.

My steps faltered. My body resisted in disbelief. Sunlight touched my skin—true sunlight, warm and life-giving—and my heart leapt as though I were truly breathing for the first time in years.

Until now, my existence had been confined to cells and walls. In Rowan’s pack I was never allowed outside. I worked, I served, I was locked away again. Sometimes I heard the wind through the windows, or the distant hooves of horses—but I had never seen them, never touched them.

And now, they stood before me. Enormous horses, their breath steaming, sunlight glinting off their coats. The earth trembled beneath their hooves. Their scent—warm, metallic, alive—filled the air.

“I’ve never… seen them like this,” I whispered. “So close.”

Aedan’s eyes softened. “I know,” he said quietly. “They never allowed it, did they?”

I shook my head, my throat tight. “I only heard them. From far away. But I was never allowed to touch one.”

Aedan stepped nearer. “You are free now,” he said. “If you want, you can.”

Trembling, I moved forward. I stretched out my hand, hesitant. The horse—a dark brown creature with gentle eyes—didn’t flinch. It stood calmly, as if waiting for me. When my fingers brushed its coat, a shuddering breath escaped me. It was my first touch of the free world.

“We’ll ride them to the palace,” Aedan said behind me, a smile in his tone. “Have you ever ridden before?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. Never.”

“That’s all right,” he answered warmly. “Today will be the first of many.”

⸻

The horse snorted softly as I stroked its neck. My hand trembled, my heart thundered. Aedan came closer, his voice gentle.

“May I help you?”

I looked up at him. Fear flickered in my eyes—but so did determination. I nodded.

He extended his hand. “Trust me.”

With trembling fingers, I placed my palm in his. His grip was strong, steady, guiding me as he helped me place my foot in the stirrup. His hand at my waist lifted me gently, and soon I was in the saddle. The horse shifted beneath me, and my body stiffened.

“Slowly,” Aedan murmured. “Breathe. Feel its movements. It isn’t your enemy.”

I listened. The horse was patient, as if it knew everything was new for me.

Aedan mounted his own horse with ease, drawing alongside me. His golden eyes glimmered with warmth.

“Now we begin,” he said. “Step by step. Together.”

The horses started forward. The motion was strange, unsteady—but not frightening. It rocked me gently, new and alive. The wind caught my cloak, the sun kissed my hair. And my heart—though still tangled in fear—beat braver than ever.

I was no longer a prisoner.

For the first time, I felt it fully: I was alive.