CHAPTER 46: The Traitors We Are

  Nikolai stumbled towards a bed- any bed. In truth, even a pile of hay would do at this moment.

  His body ached from the night’s events. He was all too familiar with sleep deprivation, it was practically second nature, but tonight, the weight of it felt unbearable. His eyes struggled to stay open. He could barely walk straight, stumbling like a drunkard. The heavy bag he carried almost slipped from his grasp multiple times as he caught it at the last moment.

  He pushed open the wooden doors. The faint creak of wood seemed unusually loud in the stillness of the room. The silver moonlight spilled in from the window and he blinked against its gentle glow. The air was cool, and the familiar scent of lavender and fresh linen washed over him. It seemed impossible but the smell lulled him forward, making his eyes droop lower.

  Thank the gods for Frederick, he thought. The boy was always so thoughtful.

  For a brief moment, suspicion flickered through him as he realized something was wrong. He was missing something… but what? Something was off. His eyes scanned the room, squinting through the exhaustion.

  He placed the brown satchel on the floor, trying to be quiet. It still made a noise.

  Seeing the lump on the bed shift, he froze. That’s what it was.

  The lump nestled under the thick blankets was still and serene, its breath soft and easy. The familiar sword sat on the small table, easily within reach. And the bed had been shifted so that its occupant was constantly facing the windows.

  At the quiet snore, Nikolai sighed, as something loosened within him. He paused, letting the noise wash over him. For a brief moment, this quiet bubble seemed like a welcoming haven. Despite the exhaustion dragging at his bones, he felt he could suddenly breathe easier.

  He forced himself to reach for the door but a wry smirk played on his lips. Sleep tight, princess, he thought. Turning the knob, his blood chilled at the deafening creak of the door.

  The lump shifted.

  Nikolai cursed. Before he could turn to apologize, a pillow smacked him in the face. He grunted, half-surprised by the force of it.

  Amber eyes snapped open in the dark, their gaze heavy with sleep but sharp all the same. They pierced through the shadows and locked onto him.

  “What- Nikolai?” Her startled gasp mirrored his own bewilderment. How did they keep getting into these situations?

  “I thought maybe it was another assassin,” she muttered, her voice still husky from sleep. Pushing herself up, she rubbed at her eyes. “Apologies.”

  Nikolai shook his head, trying to stifle a yawn as he waved a hand half-heartedly. “It’s fine.” He reached for the door handle again, intending to retreat into the closest open room and collapse there regardless of the consequences. He was the lord. Who was going to stop him? Maybe Abby, he thought sourly. But she didn’t count.

  Faye’s voice, softer this time, interrupted him.

  “You’re clearly exhausted.”

  Her words hung in the air. There was a rare warmth in the observation, an acknowledgement he hadn’t known he’d needed. He hesitated, hand still on the handle, his muscles screaming to rest.

  “Just sleep here,” she said easily, shifting to make room. It wasn't the first time they had shared a bed. She placed one of the pillows in the center of the mattress and patted it down.

  Nikolai tilted his head, not sure what her point was.

  Faye held up a hand, yawning as she declared, “I, the Raven General, solemnly swear not to-“ she paused, and let out a loud sneeze. Pinching her nose, she continued nasally. “Not to invade this border!"

  There was a soft smirk playing on her lips. "Do you accept the terms of these conditions, Lord of Feldgrau?” She finished with a great yawn.

  The teasing tone was so familiar, so comforting, and even though he wasn’t in his disguise... for a fleeting moment, he felt the weight of the world slip away. Nikolai blinked. He should leave. But he would probably collapse in the middle of the hall if he took another step.

  The temptation to simply fall into the soft sheets and lavender-scented pillows, to surrender to the comfort, was too strong. Even Faye’s steady, protective presence, made quiet by the night air, made it all the more alluring.

  “Don’t make me throw another pillow,” came the playful warning, her voice dripping with teasing authority.

  One he decided to finally submit to.

  With a roll of his eyes, Nikolai didn’t know what compelled him as his body staggered forward. A sigh of exhaustion escaped him as he shuffled toward her, his instincts only recognizing the need for sleep and the presence of a comfortable bed.

  He collapsed on the mattress. The softness enveloped him immediately, the weight of the blankets and cool sheets pressing against his skin in a way that was heavenly.

  Faye chuckled as she flopped back onto her pillow. “I think that’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

  He couldn’t even argue the point. For the first time that night, he felt himself truly relax. It was odd. He wondered if Frederick had done something different, but there was something about the bed that felt absolutely delightful in a way it never had before. He didn’t know what it was, but it felt utterly right.

  “Good night,” Faye whispered beside him, her voice barely audible. "Nikolai."

  He turned on his side, staring at the pillow wall between them. For a split second, the exhaustion that had bore down on him seemed to fade. Despite the fluffy barrier, he could feel her presence there. He could hear the soft, even rhythm of her breath as it rose and fell in the quiet dark. It was a peaceful cadence. As the rest of the world fell away, his heart squeezed at how simple the moment felt.

  Nikolai lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

  “Faye, to be honest, I actually-“ he was cut off by a light snore.

  The noise was welcome, a soft, human sound in the midst of their chaotic lives. Far better than the thunderous snores of Darcy, he thought with a shudder. Or Cristin’s penchant for sleep-talking. Their nighttime habits had kept him up for more than one night.

  Nikolai sighed. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes, letting sleep finally claim him.

  “Sleep well, Faye,” he murmured to the quiet air.

  The fireplace was empty, but the room was filled with an unspoken warmth. The kind of warmth that only existed when two people felt safe enough to simply be.

  No masks, no titles, no war or scheming.

  Only Nikolai and Faye.

  On the other side of the pillow wall, her lips curled into a tiny, almost secret smile.

  —

  With a groan, Harmon raised a hand to her throbbing head. Her fingers brushed over a tender bump. She grimaced at the bruise that was surely forming. What had happened? The last things she remembered were the odd servants and then- Her stomach clenched. They-

  Her eyes flew open. She bolted upright, heart thundering.

  “Harmon.”

  The musician’s sharp gaze snapped toward the man kneeling before her. Before she could fully register his presence, her breath caught at the sight just behind him. "Sister," she breathed shakily. "You-"

  Although her head was bowed and her shoulders trembled… Elody was alive. Relieved tears stung at Harmon's eyes.

  Elody was alive.

  Harmon’s heart twisted in disbelief, fearing to believe until she had a chance to fully touch her sister’s face and make sure she was truly unharmed. The two servants, she realized, they had mentioned Rufus. Her sister had… sold her out? Her relief turned sour as her gaze drifted back to the man before them. Her true master. The one who had owned her loyalty for a decade. And yet…

  Her eye twitched.

  “Lord Cristin,” she began, voice tinged with incredulity. “Are you wearing my dress?”

  Cristin let out a long, weary sigh and gave a slow nod. The gown was ripped and muddied, and his left shoulder had ripped apart the delicate sleeves. “I’m afraid this is the point we’ve reached.”

  She was aware someone had changed her but never did she expect her kidnappers to keep her former outfit. And in such conditions... she almost wished they hadn't.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "I see." Harmon blinked. She might have laughed if it weren’t for the weight pressing down on her chest. Instead, she sobered, fingers curling into the fabric of her pants … they were as foreign to her as the sight of Lord Cristin in a dress. It was a silent reminder of how far they'd fallen.

  “I’ve betrayed you, Lord Cristin,” she admitted without hesitation.

  Cristin glanced down at his lap, the usual sharpness in his gaze dulling for just a moment. “I figured as much.”

  What right did he have to sound sad? She clenched her fists.

  "I just don't understand," he began slowly, eyes raising to search her stubborn gaze, hoping to find an answer. "Why?"

  The quiet resignation in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Cristin, ever the intelligence master, was known for his efficiency. But his leniency and patience, had always unsettled her. A man like him didn’t build a network of spies through fear alone. No. He did it by making them trust him. By making them want to serve him.

  Which made their betrayal all the more damning.

  Even more laughable was that Cristin wasn’t even doing this for himself. It was why she had fallen for his schemes. She had been surrounded by selfish men all her life. A man with a cause seemed far safer to work for than a self-absorbed one with selfish intentions. Now, she realized it was just a different danger, but dangerous all the same.

  Harmon swallowed, willing her voice to stay steady, though she couldn’t stop the tremor in her fingers or the quivering of her lips. She refused to cower. Let him see her fear. What did it matter? He had always seen through her anyway.

  “Are you here to torture the information out of me?”

  Cristin considered her for a moment. Moving slowly, he sat back, folding his legs beneath him into a casual seat.

  “What’s the point?” His voice was almost lazy, but she didn’t miss the sharp edge beneath it. “I trained you myself. You’d never break.”

  The admission should have reassured her, but it didn’t. “It’d be pointless to kill us after the trouble you’ve gone through to drag us here alive,” she said, voice trembling. She knew she was right but whether it was a mercy or a slower kind of execution remained to be seen.

  “You were always my brightest student, Harmon,” Cristin responded, voice sincere.

  Harmon tore herself away from his genuine gaze. “Which prison are you talking us to?”

  Cristin’s answer was almost casual. “There is a remote village in the borderlands.”

  Harmon let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “After everything we did to get out of there?” The laugh died on her lips. “Only to be sent back and left to rot until we die.”

  She hated Feldgrau. Hated the borderlands with all her heart. The day she left that damned place, she swore to never return. Now, fate had its cruel fingers wrapped around her throat, dragging her back.

  She tilted her chin up, forcing a sneer. “You should just kill us now. No one is here to see. Save us all the trouble.”

  Behind them, Elody sucked in a sharp breath.

  Cristin, however, didn’t flinch. His voice darkened. “And deprive the children of two teachers? Even I'm not so cruel.”

  Harmon double-took. “What?”

  Cristin exhaled through his nose. “Furthermore, I wouldn’t go against the lord’s commands after the work he’s put into arranging this.”

  The words barely registered. Teachers? For children? The thought was so absurd it almost made her laugh again. Since when did Feldgrau have schools? For children? Only a handful of Feldgrau nobles could even read!

  She stole a glance at Elody, whose stunned expression mirrored her own.

  Elody finally spoke, “Is this true, Lord Cristin? We’re going to be...” Unlike her sister, there was a thrum of excitement in her voice. “School teachers for children?”

  “This isn’t an act of mercy,” Cristin warned, his voice flat. “This is my punishment for raising traitors. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”

  Harmon stiffened. Of course. This wasn’t about saving them. It was about self-preservation. Cristin was paying for their betrayal, shouldering the weight of their choices.

  A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. “So, even the Ice Prince turns against his right hand. I guess he isn’t so different from his stepmother.”

  Cristin moved so fast that Harmon barely registered it. One moment, he was seated. The next, he had slammed his hand against the carriage wall with a sharp, splintering crack.

  “Say that again, and I’ll tear out your tongue myself, Harmon.”

  His voice was not a roar but something far worse. Low and lethal. Like a blade pressed to the heart, the moment before the fatal stab.

  The entire carriage trembled in the suffocating silence that followed.

  Harmon felt her breath hitch, her body going rigid. Even Elody shrank back. Her nails dug into her arms in a protective hold.

  They had seen Cristin cold, had seen him merciless, but this was something else. A glimpse of the loyal, bloodthirsty creature lurking beneath.

  Cristin’s knuckles were white, and bloodied where they'd struck the wall. But when he finally turned back to them, his expression was eerily blank. His quiet composure had returned as if the fury had never been there at all.

  And somehow, that was even worse.

  “I will ask you one last time, Harmon.” His voice was low now, dangerously calm. “Are you going to tell me what you did?”

  She clenched her jaw. Still shaken from the display, she forced herself to hold his stare. “If I did, you would surely kill us.”

  Cristin turned to the younger sister. “And you?”

  Elody bit her lips but remained silent.

  Cristin studied them like a stalking predator closing in for the kill. Then, with a slow, measured breath, he rose. Lifting the curtain, he made to step outside but paused at the threshold.

  “Our relationship ends here,” he said, voice devoid of warmth. “Before you try anything else, remember, there are eyes on you. Always.”

  Then, without looking back, he reached into his pocket and tossed something toward Harmon. Instinct took over, and she caught it with ease.

  Her breath caught.

  The dented golden hairpin gleamed in her palm. Harmon reached into her hair, patting the empty space in disbelief. After everything, she had almost lost this. Mother’s hairpin. The same one that went missing after the raids ravaged their village.

  Its intricate design was unmistakable. It was the very same one Cristin had recovered, gifting it to her when they were still children.

  A lifetime ago, he had returned it to them with a rare, almost soft smile. His clothes had smelled of soot, and dirt stains covered his face, proving his sincerity and earning their loyalty.

  Now, he was returning it to her once again.

  This time, there was no smile, but a quiet, deadly promise. A threat.

  “If anything happens to the lord because of you two,” Cristin murmured. “It won’t matter if you run to the ends of the world.” He shook his head.

  “I will find you.”

  His gaze flickered down to the hairpin in her hand, then back at Harmon.

  “And there won’t be any mercy then,” he swore.

  He paused again at the door. His grip on the wood tightened. “The lord has prepared a small residence for you two by the lake,” he closed his eyes. “The indigos will be blossoming in a few weeks, Elody.”

  The vibrant petals were perfect for crushing into paints.

  “You still remember?” whisperd Elody, awe gripping her despite the weary fear. She continued cautiously, “That time when I painted your face while you slept?” The indigo dye had not faded from Cristin’s skin for days.

  He looked down. “Take care of each other.”

  Without another word, he slipped out of the carriage, leaving them behind. His last words hung heavy in the air.

  Elody reached out to clasp Harmon’s shaking hand. “We made it, Harmon," she laughed and wiped at her eyes. "I can't believe it! We survived. ”

  Harmon sat frozen, fingers clenched around the hairpin. She sucked in a ragged breath.

  “I hate him.” Her voice trembled with barely contained rage as she turned on her sister. “Why do you look so happy? We’re losing everything we’ve worked so hard for!”

  Elody recoiled. She twisted her hands in her lap before meeting her sister’s burning gaze.

  “Harmon,” she whispered like it was a guilty admission. “I never wanted to be here.”

  Harmon recoiled. She knew this. But it still hurt to hear it out loud.

  “And it’s not Lord Darcy or the Ice Prince who are making us leave,” Elody frowned. She shrugged helplessly, unable to suppress the growing anger in her voice. “You were going to testify in court against them. You're always telling me to think before I act. But did you even think about what would happen after that?”

  Elody twisted her fingers in her lap, already missing her paintbrushes. “Even if we made it out of the capital, all of Feldgrau would have hunted us down.”

  “The Hounds would have protected us!” Harmon blurted out.

  Elody’s eyes flashed. “And you trust them?” She pointed to the dark bruise on her right cheek. “Who do you think gave me this?”

  Crossing her arms, Harmon spat, “At least we’d be free.”

  Elody raised her voice. “After the queen destroyed the Ice Prince and Feldgrau, she would have jailed both of us. Do you really think she’d let us go?”

  “How is returning to Feldgrau any better?” Harmon shot back. Her younger sister was too naive. Despite how she tried to suppress it, fear nipped at her, warning her. There would be no protection in a remote village. What if someone found them and decided to take revenge?

  “Maybe they were lying," Harmon frowned. "A school for children? What would we even teach them, Elody? To read and write like the scholars in the capital? Playing music and painting like the nobility? What use have they for such things in a place like that?”

  Elody glared at her words.

  Harmon gestured out the window. “Here in the capital, we had power. Respect. Now, we’re returning to that horrid place we fought so hard to escape! Why are you defending them? They were the ones who threatened us.”

  “Because I hated it here!” Elody burst out. “And I only stayed because of you!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I had so many offers from my patrons to leave, but I never accepted. Rufus offered me a spot in the artists’ academy, but I refused.”

  Harmon’s eyes gleamed as she frowned. “You never told me this.”

  “Because I wanted to stay with you! Because you’re my sister.” Elody’s voice cracked with emotion. “And I love you.”

  Harmon stared at her with wide eyes. Stunned.

  Elody wiped at her face, exhaling shakily. “I may not trust the Ice Prince, but for once, they’re not the ones in the wrong.” Her expression darkened. “We are.”

  Harmon’s actions weren’t based in self-defense, she had realized. It was beginning to dawn on her that she herself wasn't so innocent either. Their decisions had both been born out of something much shallower.

  Petty revenge.

  “They aren’t the ones who betrayed their people,” Elody let her words drag out. “They aren’t the ones who made reckless mistakes and tried to cover them up with even more lies.”

  Harmon’s breath hitched.

  Elody’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Harmon, don’t you see?”

  She squeezed her sister’s hand.

  “We are the traitors.”