Friya's steps came faster now, sharper against the stones.
They both hurried and hid themselves behind a rock, hoping and praying she wouldn't get there.
Each footfall echoed, bouncing off the mountain walls and crawling into the space where they hid.
"Drexo!" Her voice carried. Clear. Searching.
Behind the rock, Drexo's chest rose and fell unevenly. Maria could hear it. Not just hear it. Feel it. It matched the wild pounding in her own chest, as though their bodies had not yet separated from what they had just done.
She tightened the knot of her robe with trembling fingers. The fabric refused to obey her at first. Her hands were still unsteady, still remembering him.
Focus.
Drexo dragged his trousers into place, his movements rushed, clumsy. Then he leaned closer, his voice barely a breath. "There," he whispered again, pointing toward the deeper curve of the rock.
They shifted. Bodies pressing against cold stone. The space was tight. Too tight. Maria could feel the heat from his skin even now. It made her jaw clench. Not now. Not anymore.
Friya's footsteps stopped.
Silence fell.
A different kind of silence. The kind that listens. She had reached the exact spot. Maria's throat went dry.
Through a narrow crack between the rock edges, she could see Friya's feet. Still. Planted. Then slowly, Friya turned, scanning the ground. The marks were there. Disturbed dust. Sweat smells. Footprints layered over each other in ways that told a story no one needed to hear aloud.
"It seems there were people here," Friya murmured.
Maria shut her eyes for a second. Not a prayer. Not quite. Just a wish for the moment to pass without breaking.
Friya stepped forward. One step.
Maria's breath halted. Her body stiffened, every muscle tightening like a drawn bow. She had faced warriors. Faced death. Faced blood and steel without flinching.
But this? This was different.
Another step.
Even Drexo shifted beside her. She felt it. The tension in him. The fear. Real fear. Not of battle. Not of wounds.
Of being seen. The wrongness of what they have done clung to his heart.
Friya moved closer to the rock. Too close.
Maria's fingers curled into her palms, nails biting into skin. If Friya walked around the rock, if she just took one more step, everything would shatter. Not just them. Everything.
Then, Friya stopped. Just like that. She lifted her head slightly, as if catching something in the air. Her nose wrinkled faintly. "My betrothed is not here," she said slowly. "This place smells weird."
Maria almost laughed. Not out of humor. Out of disbelief. Out of the sheer madness of it.
Weird.
That was what saved them. Friya turned. Her steps retreated. One after the other. The sound faded. Fading until it was gone.
Still, Maria did not move. Not immediately. Her body remained frozen against the rock, as though the danger still lingered, waiting to snap back.
Then finally, she exhaled. A long, quiet breath that left her almost weak. Beside her, Drexo dropped to the ground, his back hitting the stone. His head tilted upward, eyes closing briefly.
"Thank the gods." he muttered under his breath. "If she had taken one more step." He didn't finish. He didn't need to. Maria pushed herself away from the rock.
Distance.
She needed distance. By the time Drexo lifted his head again, she was already dressed. Every fold in place. Every trace of what had happened erased, at least on the surface.
She turned. Started walking. "Hey!" Drexo called, scrambling up. "Are you going already?"
Maria stopped.
For a brief second, she stood there with her back to him. Something flickered through her chest. Something dangerous. Something soft.
She crushed it. Then she turned. Her face had changed. The warmth was gone. The softness. Gone. What remained was steel. "You better stay away from me," she said.
The words landed hard. Sharp. Nothing like the breathless whispers from moments ago.
Drexo blinked. Confused. Hurt, maybe.
Maria didn't stop. "If you come close to me again," she continued, her voice steady, cold, "I will cut off one of your hands."
Silence followed. The kind that doesn't argue.
Drexo stared at her. He searched her face, as if trying to find the girl who had held him, who had kissed him like the world was ending. She wasn't there anymore. Or maybe she was. Just buried deep enough to hurt.
Maria turned and walked away. She didn't look back. Not once.
Behind her, Drexo remained where he stood, rooted to the ground. Watching her go. Trying to understand how something so intense could vanish so quickly.
But it hadn't vanished. That was the problem. Maria's hands clenched as she walked. Her pace was steady. Controlled. But inside?
Chaos.
"What we have is not right," she muttered under her breath. "Not before the gods. Not before men." The words felt forced. Like she was trying to convince herself more than anything else. "Why should I continue in it?"
No answer came. Only the memory of him. His voice. His touch. The way he had looked at her. She shook her head sharply. As if she was telling herself. "Enough."
By the time she returned, her face was composed again. Evelyn was there. Talking. Smiling. Filling the space with easy conversation.
Maria leaned into it. She responded where needed. Nodded at the right moments. Even smiled once or twice. From the outside, nothing seemed wrong.
But Evelyn watched her closely. "My lady," Evelyn said after a while, her tone careful. "Are you sure you are alright?"
Maria didn't hesitate.
"I guess the south is not my place." It was the easiest answer. Maybe even partly true. Evelyn smiled gently. "You will have to get used to it. You are to marry Robert in a year. And he lives in Iron Valley."
Marriage to Robert.
The word sat heavily in Maria's chest. It had never excited her. But now it felt irritating. Like a chain she had only just noticed was there.
She forced a smile anyway. The next day came quickly. Too quickly. Lords prepared to leave. Horses were brought out. Soldiers moved with purpose.
Departure always had a certain energy. A mix of relief and tension. Of endings and things left unsaid.
Edmond stood ready. Beside him were the Northern army. They began to move toward the gate.
Then, a sound cut through the air. A woman's voice. Struggling, and crying.
"Let go of me!" she screamed. "I did you no wrong! I am married!" Edmobd's horse slowed.
Ahead, two soldiers dragged a woman across the courtyard. Her hair was disheveled. Her cheeks wet with tears. Her body fought, but their grip was firm.
Edmond stepped forward. "Lord Woodland," the guards greeted, bowing slightly.
Edmond's eyes darkened. "What has this woman done?"
One of the guards shook his head casually. "Nothing."
"Then why are you dragging her to the palace against her will?"
"The King is in need of her tonight." The words dropped like stones. Edmond's jaw tightened. "What about her husband?"
The guard gave a short laugh. "When the King is in need, whether she is married or not is not a factor."
There was a pause.
The guard expression turned cold. "Now if you do not mind, step aside. The king is waiting."
Edmond did. Slowly, and reluctantly.
The woman's screams followed as they dragged her away. They echoed. Long after she was gone.
Edmond's hands clenched at his sides. "This must end," he muttered.
It wasn't long after, Maria and Evelyn joined him.
They all walked closer, then she turned. The gate stood ahead. Freedom, maybe. Or just distance.
As she stepped forward, something in her chest tightened. She stopped, and turned.
The palace stood behind her. Tall, silent, and watching. Her hand rose to her chest without thinking. It pressed there. As if to hold something in place.
Or keep something from breaking. High above, unseen, Drexo stood by his window: watching.
He saw her stop. Saw her turn. Saw her hand press against her chest. A slow smile spread across his face. "She loves me," he whispered.
Not a question. A certainty. "She loves me as much as I love her." He nodded to himself. "She's just afraid."
Below, Maria turned again. This time, she didn't stop. She mounted her horse.
Rode out.
She didn't look back. Drexo's hand moved to his own chest. His heart was still beating hard. Still refusing to settle. "I won't let go of her," he said quietly.
Not to anyone. Just to himself. "I will fight for what we feel for each other."
Outside the gates, the road stretched forward. Maria rode with the others. Face calm. Eyes forward. But her mind? Still on the mountain. Still on him. And no matter how far the distance grew.
It didn't feel like enough.