CHAPTER 5: The Final Ghost

Earlene

I had exactly one hour to pack my entire life. My hands were remarkably steady as I pulled my bag from under the narrow cot.

I did not have much to take. Two extra dresses, a wool cloak that had belonged to my mother, and three thick books on military history and architecture I had quietly taken from the royal library over the years. I folded the dresses and placed them at the bottom of the bag.

I was leaving the South. The reality of it was that simple. My father had traded me for an army, and in doing so, he had accidentally given me the only viable escape route from a dying kingdom.

The wooden door to my room pushed open. No one bothered to knock.

Lecia and Leith walked into the cramped space. Their wide crimson dresses practically filled the entire room, forcing them to stand awkwardly near the foot of my bed. The sheer terror they had shown in the throne room was completely gone. Now that they were safe, their usual cruelty had returned.

Lecia stepped close to me. She reached out and wrapped a thin strand of my ashen hair around her manicured finger, playing with it gently as if we were actually friends.

"You actually did something useful today," Lecia said softly. Her voice dripped with a sickening, fake sweetness. "Thank you for saving us from that terrifying beast. I was absolutely paralyzed in there."

Leith stood near the doorway, crossing her arms over her silk dress. She looked around my bare room with open disgust.

"I always knew she was born to serve us, Lecia," Leith said, curling her lip. "At least now she gets to die doing exactly what she was made for. Keeping the real royals safe. I suppose a bastard has some use after all."

I pulled my hair firmly out of Lecia's grip. I did not give them the satisfaction of seeing my hands shake. I stood up and looked directly at them.

"Perhaps," I said. "Perhaps he will kill me tomorrow. But let us calculate your future, Lecia."

Lecia uncrossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the reality of this kingdom," I said, keeping my voice perfectly even. "The warding stone is dead. The magic in your bloodline is useless. Father is bankrupt, and the soldiers we have left are starving. The Alpha of the North is going to leave his army here to protect the borders, but he is not going to feed our people. He will rule this territory by proxy."

"We are the royal family," Lecia snapped. "We will always be protected."

"You are figureheads," I corrected her. "In a month, when the winter hits and the food stores run completely empty, the citizens will riot. They will not care about your beautiful dresses. They will pull you out of your beds and kill you in the courtyard for letting them starve."

Leith paled, taking a step back toward the door.

"I might die in the North," I continued, picking up my bag and slipping the strap over my shoulder. "But I am leaving with the strongest military force on the continent, and they have enough rations to survive the winter. So, enjoy your victory today. It is the last one you will ever have."

Lecia opened her mouth to argue, but she had absolutely nothing to say. The cold logic of the situation trapped her. She glared at me, her face pale, and then she turned around and shoved past her sister. They hurried out of the room and disappeared down the hallway.

I stood in the silence for a moment, adjusting the weight of the bag against my hip.

"You did not have to be so brutal," a quiet voice said from the doorway.

I turned. My brother, Eliott, stood at the threshold. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes standing out sharply against his pale skin.

"I only told them the truth," I said. "They needed to hear it."

"I know," Eliott sighed. He stepped into the room. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch. He held it out to me. "Take this."

I looked at the pouch but did not take it. "What is it?"

"Gold," Eliott said softly. "It is from my personal vault, not the King's. It is not much, but it might buy you a favor or two when you reach the Northern capital."

I shook my head. "I do not need your gold, Eliott. Keep it. Buy yourself safe passage out of the South before the riots start."

"Earlene, please," he insisted, grabbing my hand and pressing the heavy pouch into my palm. "Take it. I could not stop him from giving you away today. I stood there and did absolutely nothing. Let me do this."

I looked down at the gold in my hand, then back up at my brother. I closed my fingers around the leather pouch and dropped it into my pocket.

"Thank you," I said.

"Survive," Eliott told me, his voice tightening with emotion. He reached out and gripped my shoulders tightly. "I know how fierce you are, Earlene. Do not cower. Show them exactly what you are made of. You are a princess. No matter what he says, you are a princess of this bloodline."

The word hit me directly in the chest. A tight, hot ache instantly rose in my throat. No one had ever called me a princess before. Not once in nineteen years.

I squeezed my eyes shut, aggressively fighting the intense burn in my throat. I absolutely refused to leave this palace with tears on my face for Thorne's men to see.

I pulled away slowly and gave my brother a single, firm nod. I walked past him, out of the small room, and headed toward the main courtyard.

The southern soldiers had cleared the courtyard entirely. No one was there to see me off. The only people waiting in the cold mud were the Northern soldiers, standing in perfect, silent formation around the black carriage.

Thorne's soldiers were lined up along the carriage path. Their disdain was incredibly subtle, but it was a heavy weight in the air. They did not sneer or shout insults.

Instead, as I walked closer, they shifted their weight slightly, their faces completely blank, and deliberately looked away.

They refused to make eye contact with me, treating me like a fragile, useless thing that did not deserve their attention.

The tall, scarred guard who had laughed at my father stood by the carriage door. He simply turned his head and looked at the ground, avoiding my gaze entirely. The quiet disrespect stung worse than any shouted curse.

"Get in," Vane ordered gruffly.

I did not argue. I climbed the metal steps and pushed the heavy wooden door open. The carriage was surprisingly warm.

Then, the suffocating pressure hit me all over again.

He was already inside.

Thorne sat in the furthest corner of the carriage. He was a massive, silent shadow melting into the dark leather seats.

I could not see his face clearly, but I could feel his piercing dark eyes fixed entirely on me in the dark. He did not move a single muscle. He did not speak. The sheer force of his presence sucked all the breathable air out of the tiny cabin.

Before I could even take a full breath, the wooden door slammed shut behind me.

The iron lock clicked loudly into place on the outside and the wheels jolted over the cobblestones, pitching me forward into the freezing dark with him.

My fate was sealed.