*River*Something is wrong with Maerilee.I’ve seen grief before. I’ve watched fae crumple under the weight of it, drown in it, try to fight through it. I’ve seen it wear them down until they’re hollow-eyed and brittle-boned, until they become someone else entirely.I knew when Akin fell that Maerilee would need time, that even someone as strong as her couldn’t be expected to carry on like nothing happened. But this isn’t grief. This is something much worse.I watch her from the edge of the courtyard, where she stands with her back to the firelight, her arms folded tight against her ribs like she’s trying to keep herself from shaking apart. She speaks to no one, barely moves, just stares out into the darkness beyond the castle walls like she’s waiting for it to come to life and swallow her whole.Even when she thinks no one is watching, her shoulders stay stiff, like she’s constantly braced for impact. Her eyes dart to empty corners. Her lips sometimes move like she’s responding to a
*Maerilee*The horse moves swiftly beneath us, its hooves thudding against the scorched ground, but I hardly feel it. My body is solid, grounded, but the rest of me feels like smoke. The battlefield stretches endlessly in every direction, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the woman seated in front of me. Her silver braid glimmers even in the dim, ashen light, and every part of her radiates calm and command.I have never met her before. I am certain of that. And yet, something deep inside me stirs. Her presence tugs at something old, something buried in the marrow of my bones. It is not comfort exactly, but a strange sense of being known. As if she has walked beside me through every hardship, even though I know that cannot be true.My voice is quiet when I speak. “What’s your name?”She glances over her shoulder, and when her silver eyes meet mine, it is like the world stills.“I am Seraphira,” she says simply. “Queen of the Faeblood. First daughter of the kingdom you now call Altinna
*Maerilee*The walls are closing in around me. I feel it even when I stand outside on the balcony, when the sky yawns wide above me and the wind tugs at my hair. It is not the stone and mortar that smother me. It is something deeper. Heavier. It settles in my chest like a second heart, pulsing with every breath I take, weighing me down until I can barely lift my head.I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I sit at council meetings where the generals hammer out plans and contingencies and fallback points, and I hear none of it. Their voices buzz around me like insects, persistent but meaningless. I nod when I am supposed to. I sign what they put in front of me. But none of it touches me. None of it feels real.The barrier is failing. I can feel it splintering at the edges. It is like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands. No matter how hard I push, the water leaks through, rising, creeping closer.And I no longer have Akin beside me to assure me everything will be okay.The thought c
*Permiton*It’s been two weeks since the first clash beyond the barrier, and somehow life inside the castle has adjusted to the rhythm of siege and skirmish. Every morning begins with patrol updates and casualty reports. Every evening ends with silence and smoke. And in between, we’ve found some sense of normalcy. The people of the kingdom have transformed from terrified refugees to a brave community. Walking through the crowded halls no longer feels like walking through a graveyard. The people have come back to life in unexpected ways, turning their fear into action. They help in the kitchens, create gifts for the soldiers, tell stories and grow closer than they ever have. While I wasn’t in this kingdom long before the war, I know that there’s a closeness amongst the people that didn’t exist before. They aren’t just neighbors anymore. They’ve become something of a family. It's equal parts encouraging and unsettling. Then again, everything unsettles me lately. For instance, River ha
*Maerilee*I sit by the window of my chambers, the stone seat beneath me chilled despite the fire burning low behind me. Outside, my kingdom glows orange and gold with the fires still burning from our enemies. Smoke rises into the sky, making it nearly impossible to tell if it’s night or day. Not that I’ve been paying much attention anyway. Time means nothing anymore.Akin may have died days ago, or seconds for all I know. There’s no telling how long it’s been, I just know that there is a definite split in time. Before Akin died, everything made sense. After, everything crumbled into ash. I know I can’t let this grief swallow me. I know that I have to show up for my people and for myself. But it feels like there’s nothing left to live for, and that alone keeps me glued to this bench, staring aimlessly at my kingdom on fire.There’s some hope, though. Where I’ve faltered, Brook stood up and took charge. He gave the army a strategy to hold onto. When I’m able to focus, I hear about thei
*Brook*I stand at the table in the middle of the war room, the edges of the massive map curling up slightly under my palms, and listen as the generals argue around me. Their voices are low and tense, an overlapping hum of uncertainty and exhaustion that fills the space. At least they aren’t yelling at each other anymore. No one has the energy for that left in them. Instead, they speak in clipped phrases, drawing lines and circles on the map trying to find the best approach to end this war, like any of this can still be planned.Maerilee is a shell of herself now. She sits at the head of the table, a heavy cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, her eyes glassy and distant. Her hands stay folded in her lap. Her mouth never moves. She’s still breathing, but only barely. It’s like I can feel her grief in my own body. I wish I could carry it for her. Her people need her far more than they need me.River enters the room not far behind the king. I don’t know where he’s been all day, but I