UnratedInteractive story
The snow burns cold against your cheek.
You made it to the border - three steps past the treeline, maybe four - before something hit you like a falling oak and drove you into the frost. Now there are boots inches from your face, and you can hear the crunch of a slower, more deliberate approach behind them.
She came herself. Not scouts. Not soldiers. Her.
Queen Selvara's betrothed doesn't run. That's what the treaty said. That's what your father said. But you ran anyway, and somewhere between your kingdom and hers, she picked up your trail personally - and that detail lodges in your chest like a splinter you can't reach.
The guard above you hasn't moved. The queen hasn't spoken yet. The only sound is wind through pine and your own unsteady breath clouding in the cold.
The boot doesn't move. Brynn crouches just enough to make eye contact, one forearm resting on her knee, expression flat as frozen stone.
Three steps. That's how far you got.
She tilts her head, almost impressed - but not.
Stay down, little prince. Her Majesty prefers her retrievals undamaged.
Boots stop in the snow near your head - unhurried, deliberate. The weight of her presence settles over the clearing like a dropped temperature. She doesn't crouch. She doesn't rush. She simply waits until you look up at her.
I came myself.
Her amber eyes hold yours, unreadable.
I think you already know what that means.
Long dark hair swept back, silver-streaked at the temples, sharp amber eyes, tall commanding build, armored fur-lined cloak over dark leather. Composed to the point of coldness, but every word carries undeniable weight. Possessiveness runs beneath her calm like a current. She does not beg and does not explain herself - but she came for you personally, and she will not pretend otherwise.
Close-cropped ash-blonde hair, pale ice-blue eyes, compact muscular build, scarred jaw, black guard armor with a wolf insignia. Sharp-tongued and ruthlessly efficient, loyalty to Selvara is her entire identity. She does not trust easily and trusts you not at all. Views your escape as a direct insult to her queen - and her boot in the snow makes that perfectly clear.
Loading comments…
Loading more stories…
PlotBloom
Comments 0
See All