Cael Estate, Outer Courtyard – Just before midnight
The frost clung to Solene's fingertips. She didn't let it melt. Not this time.
"You were holding back."
Nerys's voice cut through the darkness. Calm. Sharp.
Solene didn't turn. "What was the point of showing them anything?" Her tone was flat. "They already decided I'm trash."
"You could've frozen Alden where he stood. But you didn't." Nerys stepped closer. Her boots crunched the gravel like it personally offended her. "You let him humiliate you."
"I let him live," Solene snapped.
Silence. Just the cold.
Nerys stopped a few paces away. Close enough for Solene to feel the warmth radiating off her. She hated it—how her walls melted whenever Nerys was near.
"You don't have to become what they think you are," Nerys said, softer now. "You don't have to become her."
Solene clenched her fists. Frost spiraled down her wrists, up her sleeves. "I already am. The Ice Tyrant. That's all they'll ever call me."
"Not me," Nerys whispered.
Solene flinched. That whisper did more damage than any fire spell ever could.
"I'm being exiled, Nerys. Mother's orders. Father signed it. They're sending me to die in the Wilds."
Nerys stepped in front of her now. Their faces inches apart.
"They can go to hell."
Her voice cracked on the edge of fury. "I'll go with you."
"No," Solene said, voice cold again, hard. "You won't."
"I'm not leaving you alone out there—"
"You're not coming. You still have a name. A future."
"I don't care," Nerys shouted. "You're my future, Solene!"
The words hung there. Raw. Unapologetic.
Solene's magic flared. Snowflakes bloomed around her like a crown. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll believe you."
Nerys reached for her hand. Solene didn't pull away.
"I love you," Nerys said. No hesitation.
Solene's walls cracked.
Just a little.
Solene's breath hitched. She yanked her hand back as if Nerys's touch had burned her. But it wasn't fire that scared her. It was warmth. Vulnerability. Hope.
"I love you," Nerys repeated, softer now. "You don't have to hide that part of yourself from me."
"I'm not hiding," Solene lied.
"You are," Nerys said. "You always do. Behind that cold voice. That mask. You think if you're cruel enough, distant enough, they can't hurt you anymore."
"It works," Solene muttered.
Nerys stepped closer again. "Not on me."
Solene looked away, blinking fast. Her eyes burned, and it wasn't from magic.
"They're sending me to die, Nerys," she said. "Because I didn't burn like the rest of you. Because I refused to kneel. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't pick my side."
"I already have."
"You don't understand what I've done. What I've become. I killed a noble boy two winters ago, just for calling me a mistake."
Nerys didn't flinch. "And I'd kill a hundred of them if they touched you again."
Solene looked at her then, sharply. "Don't say that."
"Why? Because it makes you feel something? Because it makes this—" Nerys gestured between them "—real?"
"Because it's dangerous," Solene hissed. "You're not like me. You still have light. You can walk in court and be respected. You can command armies. You were always supposed to lead."
Nerys frowned. "And what were you supposed to be?"
"The family disgrace," Solene said. "The failure. The freak. The girl who froze her own reflection because she couldn't stand what she saw."
The wind bit harder now. Solene's magic flared uncontrolled. The frost crawled up stone walls, covered the iron gate, reached for the sky.
"You're not a freak," Nerys said, stepping into the storm. "You're mine."
Solene choked on a laugh. "You say that like it fixes anything."
"It doesn't," Nerys said. "But it's true."
Solene backed away. Her voice shook now, with something closer to desperation. "They'll ruin you if they think you care about me. If they know."
"They already suspect," Nerys said. "They're not blind. Just cruel."
"Then you have to pretend. Cut me off. Let them exile me and never speak of me again. That's how you survive in this family."
Nerys shook her head. "That's how they survive. Not me."
She stepped forward again. Solene took another step back. But her back hit the courtyard wall. Ice crawled up behind her, echoing her rising panic.
"You're not going alone," Nerys said. "We'll plan something. I'll fake your death. I'll meet you at the southern ridge in three days. We'll disappear together."
Solene looked into her eyes. She wanted to believe that. Goddesses, she wanted to. But the fear clung to her ribs.
"And if you don't show?" Solene asked, voice raw.
"I will."
"And if they catch you?"
Nerys smiled, bitter and sharp. "Then they'll find out how sharp my blade really is."
Solene stared at her. The firelight from the mansion windows caught in Nerys's eyes, turning them gold. That light. That stubborn, dangerous light.
"You're insane," Solene said quietly.
"Only about you."
They stood there for another few seconds—frost and flame, locked in orbit. Then Nerys stepped back. Not retreating. Just releasing her grip before it crushed them both.
"I'll get the supplies," Nerys said. "Rations, maps, winter gear. I know someone who owes me favors near the ridge."
Solene nodded once. "Three days."
"Three days," Nerys repeated. "Don't die before then."
Solene gave her a tight smile. "That's my line."
Nerys lingered one second longer, then turned and vanished into the shadows between pillars.
Solene stayed against the wall. Let the cold settle in her bones. She closed her eyes, breathing the night air. Letting it cool the burn behind her eyes.
Then she turned, walked out of the courtyard, and into exile.
---
Snow fell in sheets. The trees bowed under it. Solene's cloak dragged behind her like a shadow. Her boots crunched over ice and wet earth. Her skin was pale blue from exposure, but she didn't care.
She didn't sleep. Barely ate. The cold was easier than dreams.
She thought of Nerys constantly. Her voice. Her fire. Her words—You're mine.
She didn't believe them. Not yet. But she wanted to.
When the howl came from the ridge, Solene stopped.
Wolves. Or something worse.
Her hand twitched. Magic crackled at her fingertips.
She turned to face the direction of the sound—and then froze.
Not from fear. But because someone was standing there, watching her.
A girl. No, a woman. Petite. Raven-black hair like ink soaked through snow. Crimson eyes that burned even in the blizzard. Her cloak was torn, boots thin. But she stood like royalty.
Solene's magic flared on instinct.
The woman didn't move. Just raised a single black-gloved hand.
"You're not from here," the stranger said, her voice smooth as smoke.
"Neither are you," Solene replied.
The woman smiled.
And for the first time in days, Solene felt something unfamiliar.
Curiosity.
---