The First Crown

The Weight of Yes

Reade

The yard was quiet by the time I finished my rounds. The last of the torches smoked in their brackets, the night air cool and smelling faintly of ale and spilled cider from the feast. I’d been restless all day, running drills harder than needed, trying to chase the memory of her from my mind.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way her lips parted when I kissed her, the way her breath caught, the tremble of her fingers against the stone as if she had to hold the world in place.

I was still replaying it when I saw Briallen waiting near the gatehouse, a small basket in her hands. She looked like she’d stepped from the kitchens by accident, but her eyes sought me the moment I appeared.

“Captain’s inside,” I said quietly, jerking my chin toward the barracks.

“I’m not here for the captain,” she replied.

She stepped close enough that no one could overhear and passed me the basket. Something rustled inside parchment.

“Her words,” she said softly, her tone stripped of judgment now. “Do with them as you will. But if you care for her, don’t let her hope too long.”

Before I could answer, she turned and walked briskly back toward the keep, skirts whispering against the stones.

I took the basket to the quiet corner of the yard, near the old well, and sat on the low stone rim. The moon was high, silvering the parchment when I drew it out.

Reade,

I cannot stay away from you. I will not pretend anymore that I can.

Briallen will help me see you. Not tonight, but soon. Please, if you want me, if you want this as much as I do, meet me when she arranges it.

I will wait as long as I must.

L.

My chest felt too tight by the time I finished reading.

She was not the girl who had stood silent at her father’s side all winter. She had grown sharper, braver. She had kissed me back like she had been waiting her whole life for that moment. And she was waiting still.

I sat there a long while with the letter in my hands, listening to the night sounds the faint bark of a dog beyond the wall, the hiss of the wind through the banners, the steady pound of my own pulse.

If I turned her away now, I would crush something in her I could never put back. I pulled the small writing kit from my belt pouch. My hands were steady as I set quill to parchment.

Lilliana,

I told myself I would keep you safe, even if it meant keeping you from me. But your letter has left me without peace. I have thought of little else since last night. I have thought of the way you looked when I kissed you, the sound you made when I pulled away. I have thought of it every hour since, and I know now that I cannot keep away.

If you would see me, then see me. Two nights from now, after the feast is done, come to the north wall where the apple trees stand. There is an old gate there, long barred — I will wait for you beneath it.

Be careful, Lillie. I would tear the world down if it meant keeping you safe, but I would rather not start tonight.

R.

I folded the letter and sealed it with plain wax. It felt heavier than any sword I’d ever carried.

When I found Briallen again, she was leaving the kitchens with a tray. I caught her eye, and she stopped, glancing around before stepping into the shadow of the corridor. Pulling the sealed letter from my pocket.

Briallen didn’t take it right away. Her sharp eyes scanned my face first, searching for something. “You know what this means,” she said at last, her voice low.

“Yes.”

“If she is caught—”

“They’ll have to go through me first.” My tone was iron, but it didn’t soften her frown.

“You speak as though you can shield her from more than steel,” Briallen said sharply, arms crossing over her chest. The linen of her apron bunched in her fists. “If this is discovered, it will not just be your neck on the block. It will be her good name dragged through the mud until she cannot walk these halls without whispers following her. And then what? Who will want her when they call her ruined? When every man sees her as damaged goods?”

The words hit me like a fist to the gut. I felt my teeth grind together, the old instinct to snarl rising in my throat.

“I would sooner face every man in Lenweil,” I said, each word slow, deliberate, “than hear her name dragged through the dirt. No one will call her ruined. Not while I still breathe.”

Briallen’s gaze searched my face for a long moment. I let her look let her see how much I meant it, how far I would go if anyone dared speak against Lilliana.

“She is young,” she said, not unkindly. “She is my charge, and it is my duty to keep her safe even from herself.”

“You think I don’t know that?” The words came rougher than I meant them, but I didn’t look away. “I’d cut my own hand off before I hurt her. Whatever happens, whatever this becomes she will come to no harm by me.”

Briallen’s eyes narrowed, as though measuring the weight of my words, testing them for cracks.

“Swear it,” she said finally.

“I swear.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the hearth popping behind us. Then she reached out and took the letter, tucking it into her apron with a decisive motion.

“Then may the Moon watch over you both,” she said quietly. Her voice had lost its edge, but not its warning. “And may She keep you from being fools.”

Back in the barracks, I drew the bundle of her earlier letters from beneath my mattress. The stack had grown thick a weight I had carried night after night, each page read until the ink had smudged under my thumb.

I untied the ribbon and reread a few, letting her voice wash through me.

Her words about the thawing grounds, the scent of wet earth, the way she dreamed of running until the air tasted sweet. The one where she told me she touched her own wrist to remember my hand. The one where she admitted she would go with me if I asked.

I closed my eyes, holding the pages to my chest.

She was mine my mate, my Luna even if the rest of the world didn’t know it yet.

I tucked the letters away again, then stretched out on my cot, staring up at the rafters.

Two nights, just two nights and then I would see her.