Chapter 7 The Carriage

NAYA

The staircase feels colder than it should. The stone presses into my thighs as I crouch, hands curled into my lap, breath barely making it past my lips. The ballroom doors loom ahead, wide and gilded, but I hesitate at the threshold. My heartbeat is an erratic drum, drowning out the muffled music and chatter behind the doors.

And then, I feel it.

A weight against my back. Not a touch, but something deeper. A pull. A presence.

Kael.

His gaze sears into me, unseen but undeniable. It prickles against my skin like firelight warming the edge of a shadow. My breath catches. He's watching me-again. I don't know what to make of that. Ever since we left that room, since he touched my face, clipped my veil, wiped my tears... I feel stretched too thin. As if my body and mind are struggling to hold onto the same reality.

What happened between us?

My fingers twitch against my dress, resisting the urge to turn and meet his eyes, to read whatever expression is undoubtedly carved onto his face.

I don't get the chance.

A presence shifts behind me, closer. Then, a hand-not firm, not forceful, just there-rests at the small of my back. A whisper of warmth through layers of silk.

Kael leans down, voice a hush of certainty.

"It's fine."

I swallow, my throat dry. The pressure of his touch lingers as he nudges me forward, not forcefully but with just enough insistence that my feet move on their own.

The doors open.

The hall roars with applause.

The moment I step inside, the entire room erupts into cheers and murmurs. The air thickens, pressing in from all sides. A sea of unfamiliar faces-some smiling, some assessing-wash over me like waves crashing against brittle rock.

My father-no, not my father. The Alpha. He stands at the far end of the room, the flickering light catching the sharpness of his gaze. But it's not pride that darkens his face. It's something else. Hesitation. Doubt.

He's worried I might have ruined everything.

I press my lips together, willing my legs to keep moving. The ceremony must continue.

Music swells. Dancing, feasting, the clinking of goblets-it all becomes a blur of movement and sound. I go where I am led, let hands guide me into place, let words fall from my lips when prompted. Yet, through it all, one thing remains constant.

Kael's eyes.

He never stops watching me. Even when others speak to him, even when he laughs or drinks from his goblet, there's always a part of him tethered to me. The warmth of his stare burns hotter than the golden chandeliers overhead.

And then comes the moment that steals the air from my lungs.

Alpha Zareth-my soon-to-be husband-steps forward. The hush that follows is suffocating.

With slow, deliberate movements, he reaches out and lifts the veil from my face.

A murmur ripples through the hall. Soft, yet deafening.

"She's beautiful..."

"...as stunning as the late queen..."

"...like something out of a tale..."

The words mean nothing to me. They are not mine to hold.

A ring slides onto my finger, heavy and foreign. A symbol of what I've just signed away. My body. My name. My life.

But he doesn't kiss me. Relief washes over me so quickly that my knees almost buckle. Perhaps royalty does things differently.

The ceremony ends.

But the night does not.

Outside, the carriages wait. My belongings-more than I have ever owned-are being packed into them, box after box, bundle after bundle.

Only, they are not mine.

I don't own anything apart from two dresses.

Were these Princess Lira's? Did they buy them just for me?

I barely have time to process it before I feel the weight of a stare once more. But this time, when I turn, it's not Kael watching me.

It's the Alpha-the man pretending to be my father.

His expression is unreadable, a war between guilt and obligation. He steps forward, hesitates, then pulls me into a brief, stiff hug. A farewell. A regret.

The warmth of it barely reaches me before I am ushered into a carriage. Alone.

The doors shut.

I am leaving.

The journey is silent.

The carriage rocks steadily, its wheels pressing into dirt roads that stretch far beyond my world. I stare out the window, at the shifting landscape, the thinning trees, the creeping night. Loneliness settles deep into my bones.

This is real. I am leaving everything I have ever known behind, probably forever.

My hands tremble in my lap, curling around the heavy ring on my finger. I twist it, remove it, place it on the seat beside me-just to feel the brief illusion of choice.

The road stretches on.

And then, the carriage jerks.

I jolt forward, gripping the seat as a rough sound-wood splintering, metal clanking-cuts through the silence. My breath catches. From outside, voices rise in agitation.

A carriage has broken down. I sit frozen as shouts ring through the air. Then, the door creaks open and Kael is there.

His face is half-shadowed in the dim carriage lanterns, but I see the crease of his brow, the way his searching gaze skims over me.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I nod. "Just... alone."

The words slip out before I can stop them.

He studies me for a long moment, then exhales. His movements are quick, precise-he glances around before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't sit beside me, but close enough that the space between us feels smaller than it is.

"You won't be alone forever." His voice is softer now.

I let out a quiet laugh. "That's not as comforting as you think it is."

He smirks but doesn't argue. Instead, he asks, "What was your life like in your kingdom?"

I stiffen.

I tell him about lessons in arithmetic, in language, in history. How I spent my days in the castle, preparing for a life of duty.

All fantasies, all lies.

I speak clearly, effortlessly, the way I was trained. But when he tilts his head, watching me with something unreadable, I realize I have said too much.

"You're... different," he murmurs.

I blink. "Different?"

"You speak like someone who has fought for every ounce of knowledge they have."

My breath hitches.

He doesn't press.

The journey continues in a strange quiet.

Neither of us mentions what happened before. The veil. The touch. The way he called me beautiful.

But it lingers.

It lingers in the way his fingers drum lightly against his knee. The way my own hands refuse to stay still in my lap.

By the break of dawn, the kingdom comes into view.

It rises from the horizon like something out of myth. Towering spires, arching bridges, streets lined with flickering lanterns that bathe the city in gold. It is awe wrapped into a single breathtaking sight.

I inhale sharply, nerves are eating at me. I hope I don't faint again.

Kael watches me, his gaze never leaving my face.

"Welcome home, Princess."

But I am not a princess.

And this is not my home.