Chapter 2: You belong to me

Adrian looked down at Estella Montharne, his rival. She hung limp in his arms, weightless, despite being nearly his height. Her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Cold blood had soaked through what remained of her clothes, dark and stark against the white. Even like this, broken, filthy, reeking of blood and half-healed wounds, she still carried herself the way she always had. Even while unconscious, pride clung to her. Grace held her features in its quiet grip, and her stillness carried the same defiance, the same strength and elegance she had worn every day of her life.

It was, despite everything, one of the things he admired about her, even beneath the weight of the hatred he harbored for her existence, even beneath his desire to see the spark of life leave her eyes.

For a moment he crouched there, staring at the one face he had come to hate.

Darius Hale and Jorad Montharne. He found it mildly interesting that those two had decided to discard Estella for whatever reason or plan they had. And whatever it was, it wasn't his problem.

But one thing caught his attention.

Estella was not a woman easily caught off guard. He knew that better than most. Which meant, for betrayal to have shattered her this thoroughly, she had trusted them. Completely, and without reservation.

It was not his concern how thoroughly her own people had broken her. If anything, it should have pleased him. Silvervale weakened from within was a gift he would welcome with open arms.

And yet... For some reason, Adrian Lykas felt slightly displeased.

Estella Montharne was his... If anyone was meant to break her, it should have been him and only him.

Adrian glanced upward, his gaze piercing through the clouds toward the distant peaks where Silvervale's domain was located. She had not willingly descended from that towering height to confront him, as she so often did. She had been betrayed and thrown down instead, left for the merciless cold to finish her off...

...Or perhaps left for him to finish, considering how absurdly close to his own domain they had dropped her.

If he had to guess why Jorad would willingly discard something as valuable as his own heir, it would be fear. Fear of exactly how much potential she carried. Fear of Estella usurping him despite being a woman. He knew how deep that man's ego ran, and how insecure he truly was beneath it. As for Darius, Adrian had nothing worth saying about that vile snake. Just the thought of the man left him with a strange, simmering irritation.

He exhaled, his breath clouding in the frigid air, a calculating glint settling into his eyes. Then he rose to his feet.

She stirred faintly against him, some instinct even in unconsciousness recognizing the touch of an enemy, and let out a small, pained sound before going still once more.

He stared down at her a moment longer before turning and whistling sharply into the storm. A heartbeat later, countless silhouettes of different shapes emerged from the dark.

Without looking back at them, Adrian spoke, his voice carrying an authority so profound it stilled the storm itself.

“What happened here tonight does not leave the confines of your mouths.” He paused, letting them fully feel the gravity of his words. “If a single word of this gets out, I will send your heads flying. Personally.”

The silhouettes shifted, uneasy, none daring to speak, none daring to even look at him directly.

“Am I understood?”

A murmured chorus of assent followed immediately.

Adrian said nothing further. He turned, gathering Estella into his arms without waiting for anyone to move toward her, and started back toward Frostveil at a hurried pace. The dark silhouettes fell into step behind him at a careful distance, none of them foolish enough to be too close to their lord with his current mood.

By the time they reached his castle, the storm had begun to worsen.

“Send for the Shaman.” Adrian's tone was stern as he carried her through the halls, her blood leaving faint marks against his sleeve. “Have him meet me in the east wing.”

—

Estella woke with a pained groan, her eyes darting over unfamiliar surroundings as her mind slowly registered one detail at a time.

The first thing she registered was a canopy of wine-red velvet, gathered at the four posts and hemmed in gold thread that caught the firelight in thin, wavering lines. The posts were dark carved oak, twined with ivy so finely cut that each leaf had its own veins. Heavy drapes hung from the rails on braided cords, and the bed beneath them was wide enough for three people to sleep comfortably without touching.

She turned her head slowly. The movement pulled at her ribs, and she held her breath until the ache dulled.

Tall arched windows lined the opposite wall, divided into small leaded panes that frost had whitened at the edges. Gray daylight pressed through them and fell across the floor in pale bars, and dust motes drifted through each bar, turning as they sank. The floorboards were a deep polished brown, the grain warming wherever the light touched it. A thick rug woven in gray and cream lay before the hearth, where a low fire had burned down to orange embers.

Two high-backed chairs faced the fire, upholstered in faded green velvet, their carved arms worn smooth where hands had rested for years. Between them stood a small round table holding a silver pitcher and a single glass.

Her throat was parched. It felt scraped raw from the inside, every swallow dragging down its length, and her tongue lay thick against the roof of her mouth, coated with the taste of iron and bitter herbs. She licked her lips and found them cracked. The pitcher sat across the room, far beyond what her body could manage.

A tapestry covered the wall beside the door, a pale hunt through snow-laden pines, its threads dulled by years of hearth smoke. There was a wardrobe, a writing desk, a candle stand with the candles unlit. Everything was clean and expensive, and none of it was personal. No weapons hung on the walls and no boots stood by the door. The sheets smelled of cedar smoke and dried lavender, and of nothing she knew.

Whether this was a room for guests, or for prisoners, and she could not tell.

Another dull, pounding ache wrecked every inch of her body.

With another groan, she pushed herself upright, only to be met with a splitting headache. She winced, drawing in a sharp, hissing breath, and pressed a hand to her temple, waiting for it to subside.

That was when the memories came.

They did not arrive gently. They tore through her all at once. Her father's face, cold and stripped of every warmth, regarded her as something foreign, a thing to be discarded rather than trusted with the legacy she had spent her whole life preparing to inherit. Darius, who had let her believe she was loved, his face twisting into something she no longer recognized. The dagger sliding into the side she had turned toward him in trust. Years of devotion, of every sacrifice she had laid at their feet, crumbled to ash beneath the weight of their betrayal.

Her breath came out shallow and ragged, her vision blurring with sudden tears. Her chest felt like it was caving in on itself, the pain of it worse than anything she had felt in her entire life.

“Why? Why am I still alive? Who—” Estella froze as the fog in her mind cleared all at once, a single face rising to the surface of her memory, her pupils dilating.

“Adrian...” she whispered to herself. That man had saved her.

She did not know why he had saved her. But she knew, with total certainty, that it had not been out of compassion. Whatever his reasons were, they were not good ones.

She didn't want to find out what they were. And beyond that, she simply didn't have a reason left to keep living.

So she decided.

Her claws extended from her fingertips, their silver surface gleaming faintly in the dim firelight, and her hand rose toward her own throat with a strange, distant calm. She was going to end her life. Not just because no one wanted her, not just because no one loved her. She was not weak-minded enough that she would seek to end her life just because of this betrayal... She was just... Tired. Tired of everything. Her love for her family and Darius was the only thing that had kept her going.

But... The very people who were supposed to protect her, betrayed her. They had never loved her...

So she just wanted to rest for eternity in the cold embrace of death. There was no reason left to keep enduring. No reason to keep breathing through pain this unbearable.

The tip of her claw grazed the skin of her throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

Just as she was about to push further, the door burst open, and in a heartbeat, Adrian was in front of her, his hand closing around her wrist with bruising force, wrenching it away before she could do any real damage. It happened so fast that barely a second went by.

“Let go.” Estella growled, throwing whatever energy she had into forcing her hand forward, but he did not let it move an inch. Desperate, she lunged for her throat with her other hand instead. He caught that wrist too, and in one swift, ruthless motion, shoved her back against the mattress, pinning both her hands above her head. His grip was like iron, unyielding, his body braced over hers to keep her from thrashing free. The sudden movement tore several of her wounds back open, blood seeping fresh into the pristine clothing on her.

“Stop this at once, woman.” Adrian's voice was furious, closer to raw anger than she had ever heard from him.

“Why?” She choked, the tears she had been holding back broke free, her body shaking beneath him from grief, from exhaustion, from the sheer unbearable weight of still being alive. “Why does it matter to you? I'm nothing but a pathetic woman who never had any true worth.” A muffled, broken sob tore out of her. “So stop. Stop torturing me with this...This thing you call life. Just let me take it away.”

Adrian said nothing. His frosty blue eyes only bored into her, unreadable, unmoving. She strained weakly against his grip, though she had no real strength left to fight him. In the end, she stopped trying.

“Adrian Lykas.” Her voice cracked over his name. “I'm not asking you to spare me. Just end me... I'm begging you.” Her teary golden eyes lifted to meet his blue ones. “Wasn't that what you always wanted?” she said through a shaky breath. “Just do it. Stop toying with me. I-I don't care how you do it... I don't care how you kill me. Just take my life and let it be over. Am I—” She choked. “Am I not broken enough for you? Why won't you just let me die? There is nothing left. Nothing left for you to break. So why won't you just end me?”

Something hardened in his expression, his pale eyes burning with something she couldn't name, something far too intense to be the indifference he usually wore like armor.

“Why are you silent?” she whispered, her voice cracking entirely now. “Say something, Adrian! I don't want to live. I have no desire to.”

For a long moment, he said nothing at all. The only sounds in the room were her ragged breathing, the fire crackling low in the hearth, and the storm still howling faintly beyond the castle walls.

“You don't get to decide that, Estella.” His grip on her wrists tightened even more. “You no longer have the right...” He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“...Because you belong to me now.”