The wheels rumbled over the mountain road, steady and slow.
Calypso sat slumped against the cushions, eyes closed, breathing even. She hadn't said a word for the last ten minutes.
Arsen watched her from across the seat.
She looked smaller like this. The sharp edges of her voice and her temper were gone, smoothed out by exhaustion. Even her expression was loose, no sneer, no calculation. Just quiet.
He hadn't realized how tense he had been until he saw her finally let go.
He shifted, reaching forward without thinking, and pulled the wool blanket from the seat beside him. He draped it over her carefully, avoiding her bandaged hands.
Her brow twitched at the movement, but she didn't wake.
Outside, Constantine's cage rattled over a rut in the road. A voice from the escort called out to slow the horses. Arsen barely heard it.
The silence gave him time to think.
About Calypso. About them.
It wasn't simple. It had never been simple. She was stubborn, reckless, sharp with her words in a way that could cut through steel and pride alike. She used people when she had to, and she trusted almost no one. Half the court thought she was dangerous. The other half was afraid of what she'd do next.
He sighed, suddenly remembering that one time he shared a conversation with his father-in-law during his last visit to the North.
It was another sleepless night for Arsen.
He had a few blissful moments of respite when his eyes finally fell closed and the images faded into darkness before it suddenly came back, more vivid and more terrible, so that he had eventually found himself screaming into life, the sheets of his bed flung off and his lungs heaving for air.
The lingering terror of the nightmare had driven him out of the manor and into the cool, suffocating stillness of the midnight garden.
Seeking solace, he had instead found himself under the cold, judgmental gaze of the albino peacocks—the very creatures Calypso so frequently complained about.
They had stood like ghostly sentinels in the moonlight, tracking his movement with narrow, critical eyes. Their feathers rustled in a sharp, collective hiss, making it unmistakably clear that they viewed his presence not as a peaceful stroll, but as an offensive invasion of their personal sanctuary.
A heavy footstep crunched on the gravel path behind him, shattering the tense standoff with the peacocks. He had turned to find Duke Kaydeen Berenice, his father-in-law approaching through the moonlight, stepping with an effortless grace that defied his true age.
Standing a bit taller than Arsen, the older man possessed a sturdy, powerful build and a full head of thick black hair that bore no trace of grey. He had worn a thin sleeping robe that didn't match the cold temperature, his piercing grey eyes locking onto him with an unsettling intensity that seemed to read his lingering panic.
He then gestured toward the darker, overgrown edge of the estate with a tilt of his chin. "Since we are both casting shadows out here," his father-in-law had said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that immediately silenced the birds, "walk with me."
Arsen had fallen into step behind the imposing silhouette of Duke Berenice, their shoes kicking up rhythmic whispers against the damp grass.
The silence had stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, punctuated only by the distant, occasional rustle of the disgruntled peacocks behind them.
YOU ARE READING
𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃)
FantasíaHow many lives must be ruined to create a "hero"? Empress Calypso Berenice lived and died as an unwritten footnote, the forgotten wife of the male lead, executed by a villain to further a plot she didn't even know she was in. But when a near-death e...
