LOGINRomy pov
The jar of zinc salve was tucked between two leather-bound histories on the lowest shelf of the library.
It took me two tries to unscrew the lid, the metal caught beneath my fingers before finally giving way with a soft scrape.
Mrs. Gable sat patiently on the little velvet footstool by the window, the pale morning light spilling across her face. The bruise along her jaw had darkened overnight, changing from angry crimson into deep shades of violet t
Aaron povBy the time it was afternoon, the dark clouds had dropped over the ridge. We gave up after nine holes and took the horses out toward the northern boundary trail. A routine safety ride that was just three hours.The black horse shifted beneath me, the familiar creak of the leather saddle filling the space between the frozen oak trees. Usually, we talked about the grain bills, the border fences, or how Romy was settling into the upper wing.Alpha Rowan kept his horse at a slow walk, staying right beside me, and every few minutes I could feel him look over at me, watching every little thing I did, every movement I made.“You haven’t been yourself,” he said, pulling his horse to a stop near the creek bend. “And you haven’t said five words since we left the house. Tell me what’s wrong, Aaron.”“Nothing,” I responded, my gaze fixed ahead. The frozen creek bend was less than a mile from the deep gully behind the old brick kiln, the exact path my cousin Caleb had given to the men w
Aaron povThe leather wrap on the iron club felt wet against my palm, a wrong feeling for a November morning.Across the short grass of the estate course, Rowan took his swing. The hollow pop of wood hitting the ball rolled out toward the perimeter wall. Clean shot. Straight down the fairway.I didn’t watch where it went.My hand was buried in my jacket pocket, my thumb sliding fast against the screen of my phone.The first message from my father had come in twenty minutes ago, right when Rowan and I were loading the bags into the back of the transport cart.From: Silas Mercer Subject: Logistics Update Arriving in Stormveil by Friday evening. Have the western gate clearance forms ready for my signature. We need to finalize the quarterly accounts before the winter council meeting.My fingers shook against the casing when I typed the reply.To: Silas Mercer Subject: RE: Logistics Update Do not come here. Stay in the western district. You opposed Romy being brought into the compound and
Romy povThe jar of zinc salve was tucked between two leather-bound histories on the lowest shelf of the library.It took me two tries to unscrew the lid, the metal caught beneath my fingers before finally giving way with a soft scrape.Mrs. Gable sat patiently on the little velvet footstool by the window, the pale morning light spilling across her face. The bruise along her jaw had darkened overnight, changing from angry crimson into deep shades of violet that disappeared under the collar of her dress.Guilt settled heavily in my chest.None of this should have happened to her. I dipped my fingertip into the cool ointment and gently spread it across the swelling.Mrs. Gable inhaled sharply.“You should’ve stayed in the pantry,” I murmured, careful not to press too hard. “Valerie was looking for someone to provoke and you gave her exactly what she wanted.”The older woman shook her he
Rowan povThe spine of the oldest pack ledger cracked the moment I opened it. Dry flakes of glue drifted onto the desk like brittle snow, I left them where they fell.My fingers slid slowly down the yellowed page until they found the list I had memorized years ago. The ink had faded from blue to a dull grey, but every name was still there.Thirteen years.I didn’t need the date written in the margin to remind me, I’d carried those thirteen years in my bones. Still, with Silas asleep two corridors away and Romy locked behind another door in the same house, I needed to see it again–to trace every decision back to the moment everything began.My thumb moved over the entry for her family and stayed there. As if I could erase the past by wearing the ink away.A sharp knock interrupted the silence.I exhaled deeply, my eyes flickering towards the door. “Come in.”Aaron stepped inside carrying a thin mani
Rowan povI was already afraid I had arrived too late.I pushed through the brass handle and stopped.Romy had Valerie by the front of her coat. Her hair hung over her face, hiding one eye as her heels skidded uselessly across the stone floor. Every frantic attempt to brace herself ended the same way, with Romy dragging her another step closer.Mrs. Gable sat halfway up the staircase, one hand cupping her jaw. An angry bruise was already blooming beneath her fingers. Beside her, the basket of brass polish lay overturned, creamy white polish slowly creeping over the oak step.The entire hall had fallen silent. Two young guards stood frozen beside the wood bin, shoulders rigid, hands hanging stiffly at their sides. Neither dared move.Nobody was moving.Romy shifted her weight to her back foot. Her fingers tightened against the wool of Valerie’s collar until the seams started to rip. Then Romy’s fist snapped forward.The blow landed squarely across Valerie’s mouth before she could throw
Rowan povThe truck fell silent the moment I killed the engine.Normally, I would’ve welcomed the silence. Today, it only gave me more room to think. More room to think of how Romy’s face must have been when I’d locked that bedroom door.Aaron was waiting outside the north wing, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, shoulders hunched against the bitter wind. He started down the stone path as soon as he saw me climb out of the truck, but neither of us looked toward the second-floor windows–towards her room.“The council representative from the northern district has been waiting since eleven,” Aaron said once he reached me. Snow clung to the shoulders of his coat, melting into dark patches. “He brought three folders from the High Registry. He’s set up in the office.”I shut the truck door. “Did you warn the gate sentinels?”He nodded. “Jessiah’s covering the main rotation. The secondary road is closed. Any supply truck without a High Council seal gets turned away.”“Good.”The wo
Romy, 23. Present Day. “That dress,” Camellia noted, her polished finger pointing directly at my neck as I turned slightly in the full-length mirror. “It doesn't cover the tattoo.” I kept my eyes on the raven tattoo climbing the side of my neck. It was for Alina, the only person who had ever call
13 years agoRomy povHer chest was heaving with shallow, erratic breaths. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a rigid, unnatural smile, but her lips were trembling so violently she couldn't hide her terror.She kept her hand pressed tightly over my mouth, her wide eyes silently pleading wit
13 years ago.Romy’s POV“Heavens, Romy! You either pick that doll up or I swear, I'll rip its head off its poorly invested neck!” My mother screamed, filled with a fury I had come accustomed to over the years.I flinched, and the doll slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. One
ROMY PovAaron came to find me on Thursday.He didn’t look for me in any of the rooms I usually drifted through. Instead, he found me in the courtyard, where I’d started spending that hour before dinner since the guard rotations changed and the estate shifted into a different kind of watchfulness o







