[Seraphine’s POV]
Wind scraped across the courtyard like a warning. Horses stamped, soldiers adjusted saddles, and Aldric stood beside them issuing orders that sounded sharp enough to draw blood.
“We ride light and fast,” he told the captains. “No banners. Minimal steel. Anyone caught wearing Blackthorn colors will answer to me.”
Rowan waited nearby, with arms crossed and posture tense. Aldric’s gaze flicked to him with visible reluctance.
“You’ll join the search party,” Aldric said. The words looked painful leaving his lips. “Your knowledge of the terrain may prove useful.”
Rowan gave a curt nod. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring them back.”
Tension snapped between them, invisible but unmistakable. Aldric’s jaw tightened; Rowan’s fingers brushed the hilt of his sword as if grounding himself.
Before Aldric could turn away, I stepped forward:
“I’m coming with you.”
Aldric froze. Several soldiers stopped mid-motion, glancing between us.
“No,” he said immediately. “You stay here.”
I lifted my chin. “Absolutely not.”
“You are not riding into Blackharrow territory,” he said, voice deepening. “Not while you’re still—”
“I carried them for months,” I cut in. “They will respond to me. A newborn knows its mother’s scent, its mother’s voice. If they hear me, if they feel me near, it could calm them.”
He shook his head. “You’re still recovering—”
“I don’t care.”
“I care,” he snapped.
Rowan cleared his throat. “She’s right.”
Aldric whipped toward him. “You defend her recklessness?”
“I defend logic,” Rowan said evenly. “Babies recognize the rhythm of their mother’s heartbeat. If Blackharrow’s men are careless, she could soothe them long enough for us to reach them.”
A muscle worked in Aldric’s jaw. “This is not a mission for the fragile.”
“I am not fragile,” I said. “I’m their mother.”
Aldric looked at me—and the fury in his stare wavered. For a moment he seemed torn between shouting and surrendering. Finally, with a low, bitter exhale, he said:
“Fine. But,” he added sharply, “you ride under guard. Two soldiers beside you at all times. You follow my commands without question.”
“Agreed.”
He didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t retract the permission. The gates opened with a groan, and the forest swallowed us.
Our party rode silently—Aldric in front, Rowan a few paces behind him, and me between two guards who watched every breath I took. The air was crisp with pine and cold earth. Aldric looked back often, as if checking I hadn’t fallen, or maybe checking I hadn’t fled. Once, when the path narrowed, he slowed his horse beside mine.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
“I don’t need—”
“You’ll slip,” he said simply.
He reached out. His gloved fingers closed around mine, steadying me as my horse navigated a steep patch. It was a small gesture, but it split something inside me anyway.
Later, when wind cut across the ridge, he noticed me shiver and raised his cloak without a word, blocking the worst of the gusts.
“You’re freezing,” he muttered.
“And you’re pretending not to be.”
His mouth twitched—an almost-smile, quickly smothered. Rowan watched us from behind. I felt the weight of his gaze, a mixture of worry and something aching I didn’t want to name.
“You all right?” he whispered later when the trail widened.
“I’m fine.”
He stared ahead, jaw tight. “He’s… different.”
“I know.”
“And that’s confusing you.”
“Yes,” I admitted softly.
Rowan’s voice dropped. “Just remember he’s capable of both tenderness and cruelty. I’ve seen both.”
“So have I.”
He hesitated. “And what do you feel now?”
I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know.
***
By afternoon we reached the foothills—Blackharrow’s territory loomed beyond the ridge. A scout rode down toward us at full speed.
“Your Majesty!” he called, breathless as he slid from his horse. “News from the northern watchpoint.”
Aldric spurred forward, tension snapping sharp across his shoulders. “Speak.”
The scout bowed quickly. “Blackharrow moved the infants. They’re no longer at the border outpost.”
My stomach plummeted. “Where are they?”
“Taken deeper into Blackharrow territory, my lady. To a mountain stronghold—an old fortress hidden in the crags. Hard to reach, even harder to breach.”
Aldric swore under his breath. Rowan’s hand tightened around his reins.
“And Elowen?” I asked, voice thin.
“She’s with them,” the scout said grimly. “Witnesses saw her enter the stronghold at dawn.”
I couldn’t believe: Elowen hadn’t simply handed them over; she’d carried them into Blackharrow’s arms herself.
Aldric inhaled sharply. “She’s embedded with them.”
Rowan nodded once. “She always was.”
Aldric’s face transformed—anger, grief, and something sharper hardening into focus. “When did they leave the outpost?” he demanded.
“Before sunrise.”
“So we have half a day’s lead to close,” he muttered.
I forced myself to breathe. “We can still reach them.”
Aldric turned to me, and for once, no accusation lingered in his eyes—only the weight of a father terrified of what waited ahead.
“We will,” he said. “No matter what that stronghold holds.” He looked back toward the mountains—dark peaks rising like teeth.
Rowan shifted closer to me. “This isn’t a simple negotiation anymore.”
“No,” I whispered. “It never was.”
Aldric straightened in his saddle, his voice carrying down the line of soldiers. “Ready weapons. Keep formation tight. We move.”
I looked toward the mountains, toward the invisible heart of Blackharrow’s domain, toward my children trapped inside stone walls. The wind rose, sending a cold shiver through the party. Blackharrow had fortified his position, and with every step toward the stronghold, the risk grew sharper.
But Aldric was no longer hesitating. Neither was I. We rode toward the mountains together, bound by fear, fury, and the fragile hope that the twins were still alive.