Nikolai Twin
Selena’s POV My eyes widen in shock and the gruesome murder of father and mother flashes through my brain again. “You never mentioned anything about this while we were dating. You never stated anything of the sort in the contract.” My voice becomes louder slightly and I do not try to hold back. “Watch your tongue Sel. This is definitely not the place.” His jaw hardens and I can tell he’s annoyed. He's looking around too, through his masquerade mask— watching if someone heard me. But I don't care. “Why should I give a fuck about where we are when you lied to me about something so important!” I clench my fists in annoyance. “You came to me for help and I gave it to you in demand for payment. You agreed, you signed the signature yourself. I didn’t hold a trigger to your head when you signed it, did I?” He scans the environment with his eyes and I notice the subtle changes in him. “I signed those documents without a second thought because I knew you or so I thought.” “The deed has already been done. There’s no use making a fuss about it. You will soon be called up to the red carpet. Do not give off any information that will threaten his life.” I freeze when he brings this up again. “Everybody here belongs to one mafia organization or the other. They are extremely sensitive and they notice every single detail. You cannot afford to ruin even a tiny slice of this event today. Am I clear?” I blink my eye furiously trying extremely hard not to shed tears. “I understand.” “Good.” He tucks one of his hands on his pockets and wraps the other around my waist. “Young Master Nikolai.” Cheers and applause fill the hall but we all know they are not at all genuine. They will be only a few handful that are truly grateful for his success and his family members may not be part of them. Slowly, we walk to the ball and I try my best to make sure our footsteps are in sync. I can feel their burning gaze on my skin. Like they have finally found the weakness of a strong predator. “Nilai.” A woman that has the exact nose and a perfect physique walks up to us. Her smile is only slight and does not reach her eyes. I force a smile on my face when she stares at me. Her mask is the shade of blood. “Nikolai. My name is Nikolai.” The air around them feels tight and I struggle to breathe. “Mother invited me over to accompany you down the red carpet.” She sneers at me and I quickly stare at the ground. “Raise your head up. Now.” I swallow and I follow his instructions. “I can see you have a guest.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and I guess that’s my cue to leave. I lift my foot to move and Nikolai pinches me hard on my waist. “My queen does not make way for those I do not approve of.” I sense displeasure in his voice. “You should leave. I have a wife I’d like to introduce to the family.” The whole hall goes silent, so silent even the deaf would hear a pin drop. He gives me a slight push and we walk till we get to a table. “Mother. Father.” He nods slightly and pulls open the chair for me to sit. “I see you have a guest.” His father graciously slices his steak in a way I know fully well I cannot pull off. “A rather uninvited one if I must say.” His mother chirps in as well. It doesnt take me anything to realize they obviously prefer the other girl to me. “We invited Priscilla.” “She’s not the only daughter of a mafia boss I’ve slept with.” He says. I swallow hard and my shoulder tenses at the mention of the word mafia. “Priscilla knows you and your dealings better. Your wife to be does not particularly seem fond of our daily routine. Is she aware?” His light has a slight evil smile on her face. “That is why I brought her here. She will be informed of all of the activities. She knows me.” He places a slice of steak on my plate and I smile at him because I am genuinely grateful. “She knows you better than Priscilla? Then I am assuming she knows your hobbies. Pulling triggers and torturing people as well as competing with your brother over every damn thing?” She chuckles slightly. I struggle not to take a peek at him because I know they are watching. “You both know me too well to expect me to repeat a simple sentence.” He rubs his legs with mine and I quickly pull away. “Not to be too hard on your wife? But how many people exactly has Priscilla killed…just for you? Priscilla might just be ahead of her.” I swallow my spit nervously and finally decide to leave. “Sorry, I would like some air.” I push my chair back, it makes a loud screeching noise. “Sit.” Nikolai grabs my arm but I pull it away. I grab the layers of my gown and I walk outside as fast as I can. I open my mouth and try to take in as much air as I can. I rub my chest; let out a deep breath. My heart is still pacing. I need to be at peace before I go back to that table. Father’s murder scene flashes through my eyes again. I force myself to not throw up. When I finally decide to go back; Nikolai is the only one seated at the table. It’s not in his personality to just sit there calmly and wait for me. He would have been reminding me of my punishments or shooting daggers at me with his eyes. I square my shoulders and I go back into the hall, this time around, I stare straight into the eyes of the onlookers till I get to my seat. There's a sick feeling in my heart as I settle down. Something tells me Nikolai was going to punish me heavily tonight.And the Roots Remember Selena's POV The orchard's frost broke for the last time the morning after they buried the final crown. Selena stood barefoot at the trench lip, boots abandoned behind the brine pit where the last Thorell crest lay sinking into black mud. The hush was warm today , not the bitter hush that bit bone, but something that breathed through her veins like old blood. She could feel it in the soles of her feet, roots pulsing up through the churned soil to wrap around her toes, tugging at her skin like a mother smoothing back a child's hair. She tipped her head back and let the orchard wind cut its path down her throat, the taste of pitch smoke and thawed brine thick on her tongue. Overhead, the broken chapel tower sagged against the dawn. The frost that had rimed the stone beams since Calor's throat was split now dripped steady into the orchard trench, each drop a pulse in the hush. Behind her, Kieran's boots crunched through the last crust of snow, heavy but sure.
The Hush Devours the CrownKieran's POV Before the first crow broke the dawn hush, Kieran was already standing at the orchard trench. The wind pushed frost across the brine path in thin sheets, covering the blackened footprints they'd pressed into the soil when they dragged Thorell's last sons to the pit. It should've felt final. It didn't. His fingers rested on the old orchard fence , splintered rails tied together with scraps of old priest robes. Each knot was crusted in pitch. Each knot smelled like the night they buried Calor's crown so deep no lie could root itself in the hush again. He could taste it now, the hush , thick on his tongue when he opened his mouth to breathe. Somewhere beneath his boots, the orchard roots twitched in their brine cradle, drinking down what was left of every vow he'd ever carved into flesh. The hush was a hunger. He'd learned that the first time he split a throat wide enough to feed it. Selena's boots crunched through the snow behind him. She d
Where the Orchard Breathes LastSelena's POV The frost came back with teeth sharper than any blade she'd ever held. Selena felt it biting through her boots as she stood at the far edge of the orchard trench, the brine pit steaming like an open wound at her feet. The wind was so cold it turned the breath in her throat to knives, but she welcomed it , the orchard wanted her raw, bone-deep, skin peeled to the hush that breathed between the roots. Dawn was just a bruise at the horizon, a smear of pale violet behind the broken chapel spire. Wolves moved through the orchard in pairs, brine hoops lashed over their shoulders, oil casks dripping black lines that traced old scars in the snow. Cassius limped past her at the trench lip, spear butt crunching into the frost. "They're still crawling," he rasped, voice frayed. The hush swallowed the rattle in his chest. "Thorell's last bastards, huddled in the thorn brake like they think the orchard will forget them." Selena's mouth cracked int
Kieran's POV The orchard wind cut so deep it felt like it wanted to strip the marrow from Kieran's bones. He stood at the marsh path's last bend, brine muck sucking at his boots where the ice had cracked under the weight of the dragged bodies. Roots twisted up through the frost here, black veins that pulsed when the hush got thick enough to press on his ribs. Six banners flapped weakly against the tree line , splinters of old crests sewn into patchwork lies. What was left of Thorell's envoys lay in a heap behind the trench lip, their wax seals ground into the muck like bitter herbs. Wolves moved between the barrels and the split timbers, oil flasks rattling at their belts, pitch tarps slung across shoulders gone lean from weeks of brine air and roots that drank their warmth like blood. Kieran's fingers flexed against the hilt of his blade. He could feel the hush licking at the cut on his knuckles , the same gash that had split open when he cracked the last priest's jaw against t
The Thorn-Crowned PathSelena's POV The orchard wind tasted like old blood when it came down from the ridge at dawn. Selena felt it cut through the gaps in her cloak, slipping under the soot-stiff furs that clung to her shoulders like an oath she couldn't shake off. She stood on the narrow brine path that wound through the roots behind the marsh trench, boots sinking half an inch into the black mud that steamed in the first crack of sun. Somewhere far off, where the orchard's charred bones gave way to the low thorn woods, she could hear the hush breathing. A sound older than prayer, older than the crowns that tried to silence it. The orchard didn't forget. It waited. It devoured the kings who thought they could dig graves deep enough to hold what clawed its way back up every spring. Behind her, the keep's silhouette was a broken tooth against the sky, the battered ramparts just visible through the swirl of brine fog rising off the marsh. Wolves moved like shadows along the south w
The Marsh Where Kings Choke Kieran’s POV By the time the orchard frost melted enough to taste dirt again, the marsh was already whispering to the roots about the next crown that needed burying. Kieran stood waist-deep in the trench where the old brine pit had overflowed, boots sunk so far into the black muck that he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. All he could feel was the hush , that deep-bellied silence that made his pulse thud against his throat like a blade begging to bite. Overhead, the orchard’s bones creaked in the first thaw winds. The stumps, black and brittle from seasons of pitch fires and spilled blood, bent just enough to let the morning light slide across the marsh’s frozen reeds. It made the whole world look like a graveyard spun from glass. Behind him, wolves slogged through the sludge, dragging pitch barrels up from the chapel cellar where the last stores had been hidden beneath the altar’s cracked stone. Elric barked orders with a voice that rattled like brine-