LOGIN*Alexander* “And the worst sin of all—”Belinda leaned forward, close enough that Alexander could see the tightness at the corner of her mouth, the anger held in the very muscles of her jaw, just as if still restraining herself. Even now and here, as she leaked out the very last of what had accumulated between for too long.The hinge on which everything had swung over both of them like the low hanging dagger of time. Her truest wound. “You brought Nicoli to her.”For a moment, Alexander could only listen. His mouth opened and closed as if air had become something he had to earn, and he couldn’t. Her words hung in the room—You brought Nicoli to her. They were hard and blunt on the surface, yes… but underneath it, swollen and infected, lay a verdict that had been long festering for twenty-two years. Not simply an accusation.But a sentence—sharpened not by Parsal’s desperate tear filled pleas for safety, not by Anastasia’s isolated existence against a court that would never truly acc
*Alexander*“The same that killed her.” Alexander pulled in a shallow breath—tasting too small, too late. The words barely fit past his throat. “And that’s… killing me.”His accusation hovered over both of them. The accusation–the truth. It wasn’t spoken with passion. There was no tearful theatrics. It was just…there for both of them to now see. Feel. Like a hollow thing that hung low. Something with teeth that had finally taken hold as if a long sleeping beast. Canines dig down, cutting skin, to find anchors in tender flesh. Bleeding out the only thing left for them now. The truth. Raw and exposed as brittle and blinding white bone.And still, despite the ripping in his chest, the iron burning taste on the back of his tongue…Alexander did not look away.He would not.Sapphire eyes, now dull and fading, held hers. Watching as if unable to do anything but wait and see. Or hope to see what could still be a sign that she wasn’t completely gone. A simple gesture. A flinch–something to s
*Alexander*Alexander blinked, slow and methodically. Immediately feeling the edges of his body fight him, as if wakefulness were not a simple action but a daunting task with weight. Even the act of opening his eyes took something from him. His lashes felt heavy, stuck together by sleep that didn’t refresh so much as steal. The world swam for a moment, then steadied, edges sharpening as his vision finally focused. Only to quickly find the telltale signs of the present. Heat pressed against his face. While bitter herbs stung the back of his throat. Somewhere nearby the hearth cracked, a sound seemed too loud for how quiet the room felt more than was. Being awake was daunting.But he forced himself into it anyway out of sheer stubbornness. “Belinda,” he managed, voice rough like sandpaper, before finding her gaze once again.Belinda’s grey eyes continued to hold his—steady, controlled, unyielding as a queen should have. Almost colder for how calm it was, despite everything going on
*Alexander*The burning ache tore up his back with a vengeance.He woke with a wince to a viciousness in his spine, and the acrid taste of bad sleep in his mouth, folded into an ungainly curve from who knew how long slumped in the world’s most uncomfortable wooden chair.It took a few swallows for the foul offenses to finally wash down before he dared to unfurrow his back. The dull ache behind his eyes did him no favors, of course. More like throwing a punch when the poor man was already down. As if drilling into him that this was his fault in the first place.For he had fallen asleep sitting upright. Again. A bad habit he was past starting to form and more like practicing for sport. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up crooked with a hump on his back before he’d reach the age of thirty.And then how would that make my clothes hang? He found himself scuffing a soft laugh at the joke. Even in pain, he’d find some way to poke fun.Alexander yawned, the sound low and rough, and stretched h
*Belinda*The latch caught for a half moment, as if offering one last protest, before the hinges finally gave.Afterward, the door gave no more resistance. It closed with a small shudder that was polite, almost nothing. Yet as it did, Belinda felt the change immediately. The corridor thinned behind her, the brief conversation she had just endured dimming to a muffled hush, muted and starved, as the wood sealed shut like a jar twisted tight.So nothing could get out. Or get in and see exactly what was inside. Like the castle herself knew better what secrets were permitted in its halls… and what was best kept out of sight.Even if it meant lying.Belinda did not look back. She did not need to. In her mind, the scene in the hall was already folding onto itself. The sound of Nicoli’s quick, hopeful voice; the angle of his shoulders when he tried not to look needy even when he was younger. The way he’d forced himself to stand straight even though he’d been hollowed by worry for the past f
*Nicoli*Nicoli was already on his feet and moving when the post horse reached the courtyard below.He did not wait for the usual procession to unfold—like the rider dismounting stiffly from the saddle, of the stableboy hurrying in, the servant summoned to carry the day’s correspondence upstairs in neat, indifferent stacks. After so many years of measuring afternoons by the sound of hooves striking stone and the creak of leather, the nearly eighteen year old was well accustomed to how long the entire line of command took. Enough that he needed no clock or to lean from the window like a child of the past. Rather, his body seemed to know before the rest of him did. And he trusted his instincts.Instinct, lately, was the only thing that still felt honest in these dark and confusing days. Everything else had become muddied.The days themselves seemed to move differently now, as though grief had altered the passage of time inside Dawny’s walls. Servants had learned to soften their footste
*Naska* The hallways blurred white around her like fever dreams.Heels struck hard against the marble, each sharp clap echoing off the vaulted arches like vulture caws as Naska flew through the corridor, grace abandoned to desperation. Cold air clawed at her throat with every ragged breath, her ch
*Anastasia*The velvet beneath my palms is damp with more than rain—it trembles with the quiet shake I've only now begun to notice threading through my bones.I press down harder, willing the feeling to smooth out beneath the pressure, willing the tremor to settle before my fingers must meet the br
*Bruno*The almost-kiss still hung in the air like smoke—thick, suffocating, impossible to wave away.Bruno didn't move. He didn't have to.Pendwick's face said everything. Not just the crimson flush creeping up his neck like spilled wine, or the dazed, too-wide eyes that reminded Bruno of a startl
*Ana* The rain has finally stopped. Not that I'd noticed right away—what with my ears still ringing from the hours in court, my head too thick with thoughts to recognize the earned silence. But here, in the stables, where it smells like damp hay and warm leather, everything feels hushed. The hors







