1 Bloomingtide 9:29
The Trevelyan estate glowed with a warm and inviting light, lanterns swaying gently in the evening breeze, their glow casting playful shadows across the manicured gardens. The sounds of laughter and lively conversation drifted through the open windows, but inside, Ariana sat stiffly on an ornate chair, her expression betraying her impatience.
The gown was exquisite—a midnight blue masterpiece adorned with shimmering embroidery that resembled constellations. The high collar framed her neck elegantly, while the flowing skirts brushed the floor like starlight cascading around her. It was undoubtedly beautiful, yet Ariana couldn’t help but feel stifled by the weight of it, as if the dress itself were a cage.
The servant fussed with the final touches on her hair, weaving silver pins into the loose layers that framed her face. Her hazel-green eyes, often bright and full of life, now gazed wistfully toward the window. Beyond the estate’s grand walls, the Summerday festivities were in full swing. Children’s laughter rang out, mingling with the faint notes of music from the city below.
“Ariana,” came the sharp voice of her mother, Lady Elara, from the doorway. Ariana turned her head slightly, her expression carefully neutral as Elara’s critical gaze swept over her. “Stop fidgeting. You’ll wrinkle the fabric.”
“I’m not fidgeting,” Ariana replied, though her hands betrayed her as they tugged idly at the folds of her skirt.
Elara stepped closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her gown, though less ornate than Ariana’s, exuded an air of authority. She adjusted the collar of Ariana’s dress with brisk precision, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You look like a child when you fidget,” she said curtly. “Remember who you are tonight.”
Ariana bit back a sigh, choosing instead to glance out the window once more. The distant glow of lanterns in the city below seemed more inviting than anything within these walls. “Yes, Mother,” she murmured, her tone deliberately placating.
The moment the servant stepped back to admire her work, Ariana rose quickly, eager to escape the suffocating presence of her mother. “May I be excused, Mother?” she asked, already moving toward the door.
Elara hesitated, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Do not disappear tonight, Ariana. You’ll be expected at the ball.”
“I won’t,” Ariana promised, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. Without waiting for further comment, she slipped out of the room and into the hallway, the soft rustle of her skirts muffling her hurried steps.
She found Frederick near the grand staircase, his expression distant as he stared at the lively scene outside. Dressed in a well-tailored doublet of deep emerald green, he looked every bit the nobleman his mother expected him to be. But there was something in his posture—a stiffness, a weariness—that felt entirely un-Frederick.
“Fred,” Ariana called softly, drawing his attention.
He turned, his eyes lighting up briefly as he saw her. “Ari,” he greeted, using the nickname only he dared to. “You look… radiant.”
“And you look like you’re trying to think of an excuse to run,” she teased, though her tone was warm. “What’s wrong?”
Frederick hesitated, his hand brushing against the bannister as if anchoring himself. “Just… Summerday,” he said finally, though it was clear there was more on his mind.
Ariana tilted her head, studying him. “Well, if you’re planning to run, I wouldn’t mind joining you.”
His lips curved into a faint smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I was about to head to the stables. Thought a ride might clear my head.”
“Perfect.” Ariana grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “Let’s go before my mother finds us.”
They slipped out through the side entrance, the cool evening air washing over them like a blessing. The stars above Ostwick sparkled brightly, as if celebrating the season alongside the city. The stables were quiet, the horses shifting lazily in their stalls as Ariana and Frederick saddled two of the finer mares.
Just as they were about to mount, Elara’s voice called from the shadows. “Ariana. Frederick.”
They froze, turning slowly to see her standing at the edge of the stable yard, her arms crossed. Despite the scolding in her tone, there was a faint smile on her lips. “Don’t be late,” she said. “The ball begins in two hours. You’re expected to be there.”
“Yes, Mother,” Ariana replied, her tone light but dutiful. As Elara turned and walked back toward the estate, Ariana exchanged a grin with Frederick.
“Two hours,” she said. “That’s plenty of time.”
Frederick mounted his horse with ease, his smile growing more genuine. “Let’s make it count.”
And with that, they rode out, the wind tugging at their clothes and the stars above guiding their way. For a brief moment, Ariana felt free—free of expectations, of duty, of the weight her mother’s gaze always seemed to carry. But even as they raced across the fields, a small, nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her that this freedom was fleeting.
~~~
As they rode through the quiet fields surrounding the Trevelyan estate, Ariana leaned forward slightly in her saddle, the evening breeze tugging at her hair. She couldn’t help but steal glances at Frederick, the tension in his posture catching her attention. Something was bothering him—something he wasn’t saying. She bit her lip, trying to think of how to bring it up without sounding too pushy.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” she finally said, her voice light but tinged with curiosity. “Did I drag you away from some noble pursuit? Or was the party too dull even for you?”
Frederick smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve always had a knack for saving me from boring conversations. I should be thanking you.”
“That’s not an answer,” Ariana pressed, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What’s on your mind, Fred?”
Frederick sighed, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Nothing you need to worry about, Ari.”
“Too late,” she said, her tone softening but still insistent. “You’ve been acting strange lately. You can’t expect me not to notice.”
He chuckled softly, the sound more forced than genuine. “You’ve got a habit of overthinking, you know.”
“And you’ve got a habit of avoiding questions lately,” she shot back, her brows furrowing. “Come on, Fred. Talk to me.”
Frederick glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Still the same relentless girl who dragged me into trouble at every opportunity.”
“Don’t try to distract me,” Ariana said with a small smile, though her tone was half-scolding. “And for the record, you have dragged me into trouble just as often.”
They reached a small hill overlooking the estate, the view of the lantern-lit courtyard and fields below making Ariana pause. Frederick dismounted first, tying his horse to a tree before turning to help her down. She accepted his hand, her fingers brushing his for just a moment before she stepped away to smooth her gown.
“You’re different tonight,” Frederick said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.
Ariana glanced at him, tilting her head in confusion. “Different how?”
He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Not like the girl who dared me to climb the tallest tree just to prove I could.”
“That’s because I’m wearing a dress,” Ariana teased, gesturing to the intricate fabric. “It’s harder to climb trees like this.”
Frederick laughed, but it quickly faded into a sigh. “No, I mean… you’ve grown up. You’re still you, but… different.”
Ariana blinked, caught off guard. “Well, you’re different too,” she said, her voice quiet. “You don’t laugh as much. And you’ve been keeping things from me.”
His expression shifted, guilt flickering across his face. “It’s not like that, Ari. There are just… things I can’t talk about yet.”
“You’re doing it again,” she said, frustration creeping into her tone. “Why won’t you just tell me? I’m your best friend, aren’t I?”
Frederick’s shoulders tensed, and he turned to face her fully. “You are. Which is why I need you to trust me on this. Just promise me something, alright?”
“What?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Whatever happens tonight, don’t let it change you.”
Ariana frowned, her chest tightening. “Fred, you’re scaring me. What’s going to happen?”
“Just promise me, Ari.” His voice was softer now, almost pleading.
She hesitated, the weight of his words unsettling her. “Fine,” she said reluctantly. “I promise. But you’d better tell me what’s going on soon.”
Frederick gave her a faint smile, ruffling her hair in a way that made her swat his hand away. “Good. Now, come on. We should get back before your mother sends a search party.”
Ariana rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she climbed back onto her horse. Whatever was bothering Frederick, she would figure it out. For now, she focused on the wind in her hair and the fleeting sense of freedom as they rode back toward the estate.
~~~
The ride back to the Trevelyan estate was quieter than Ariana expected. Frederick seemed lost in thought, his usual wit subdued as they approached the glowing lanterns of the courtyard. Ariana stole a few glances at him, but he kept his gaze forward, his expression unreadable. The unease that had been gnawing at her all evening returned with full force.
As they passed through the main gates, the familiar figure of her father, Charles Trevelyan, came into view. He stood near the fountain, his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the courtyard with the calm air of a man who had long grown used to hosting grand occasions like this. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and though his face was lined with age, there was a warmth in his hazel eyes that immediately put Ariana at ease.
“Ah, there you are,” Charles said, his voice carrying the faintest hint of amusement. “I was beginning to think you’d decided to skip the ball altogether.”
Ariana slid off her horse, smoothing the folds of her dress as she approached him. “I was tempted,” she admitted, offering a small smile. “But Frederick thought Mother might send a search party if we stayed out much longer.”
“More than likely,” Charles replied with a chuckle, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “You look beautiful, my dear. That dress suits you.”
Ariana wrinkled her nose, glancing down at the elaborate gown. “It’s beautiful, but it feels like I’m being strangled by embroidery.”
Her father laughed, the sound deep and warm. “That’s the price of being a Trevelyan, I’m afraid. Appearances above all else, according to your mother.”
“Speaking of appearances,” Ariana said, lowering her voice as she leaned closer to him. “Frederick’s been acting strange all evening. Do you know what’s going on with him?”
At the mention of Frederick, Charles’s gaze shifted to where the young man was dismounting his horse. Frederick hesitated, as though debating whether to join them, but after a brief glance in Charles’s direction, he quickly excused himself, muttering something about needing to prepare for the ball.
Ariana frowned, watching him retreat toward the estate. “See what I mean? He’s avoiding you, and he’s barely said two words to me all night.”
Charles sighed, his expression thoughtful. “Frederick’s been under a great deal of pressure lately, Ariana. Being the Duke of Markham’s heir is no small burden. I imagine it’s weighing on him more than usual. He did turn eighteen last month after all.”
“Still,” she said, crossing her arms, “he could at least tell me what’s bothering him. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”
Her father placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding her. “Give him time. Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll come around.”
Ariana nodded, though her unease lingered. The bond she shared with her father was one of the few constants in her life. Unlike her mother, who saw Ariana as a project to mold and perfect, Charles treated her as an equal, valuing her thoughts and encouraging her curiosity. He was the one who had taught her how to ride, how to shoot a bow, and how to hold her own in a duel. He had given her the freedom to explore the world beyond the narrow expectations of nobility, even if only within the confines of their estate.
“You know,” Charles said, breaking the silence, “when I was your age, I would have done anything to avoid these kinds of gatherings. Your grandmother used to drag me to every ball and banquet she could find, insisting it was for the good of the family.”
“And did you hate every second of it?” Ariana asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
“Not every second,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “But most of it, yes.”
She laughed, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “Well, at least I’m not the only one.”
Charles’s expression grew serious then, his hand squeezing her shoulder gently. “You’ll be alright tonight, Ariana. Just remember, these events are as much about endurance as they are about charm. You’ve got both in spades.”
Ariana smiled up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Father.”
As they turned to head inside, Ariana couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change—that the easy familiarity she shared with her father, with Frederick, with her life as it was, might not last much longer.
~~~
The ball was already in full swing by the time Ariana made her way into the grand hall. The air was alive with the hum of conversation, the rustle of silks, and the soft strains of a string quartet playing in the corner. Guests milled about in finely tailored gowns and polished armor, their laughter and chatter blending into an almost overwhelming cacophony. The warm glow of chandeliers lit the room, their light reflecting off the polished marble floors and casting delicate patterns across the gilded walls.
Ariana moved among the crowd with practiced ease, offering polite smiles and greetings as she was introduced to lords and ladies from every corner of the Free Marches. “A pleasure to meet you,” she would say, the words falling from her lips with automatic precision. Years of etiquette lessons with her mother ensured she knew exactly how to hold herself, how to address a viscount versus a merchant lord, how to feign interest in the endless parade of names and titles.
But as the evening wore on, her energy began to wane. The practiced smile on her face started to feel heavy, her feet aching in the delicate shoes her mother had insisted she wear. She could hear Elara’s voice in her head, reminding her of the importance of maintaining appearances, of representing the Trevelyan family with dignity and grace.
She caught sight of her mother across the room, engaged in animated conversation with the Duchess Evelyn. The two women stood side by side, the picture of noble refinement, their laughter carefully measured, their smiles perfectly poised. Ariana’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know why, but something about their closeness tonight felt different—calculated.
As she excused herself from a conversation with a visiting merchant family, she found her way to one of the large arched doors leading out to the garden. Slipping through unnoticed, she let the heavy door fall shut behind her, cutting off the noise of the ball.
The night air was cool against her skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the crowded hall. The garden was illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, their light casting long shadows across the carefully manicured hedges and flowerbeds. Ariana wandered along the stone path, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestones, until she reached a small bench beneath a towering oak tree.
She sat down, letting out a long sigh as she looked up at the sky. The stars were faint, their light dimmed by the lanterns and the distant glow of the city. Still, the sight of them brought her a small measure of peace.
Her mind wandered as she traced the constellations, her thoughts circling back to the evening’s events. The ball was no different from any other, yet something felt… off. It wasn’t just the endless parade of noble guests or her mother’s insistence on perfection. It was Frederick.
He had been distant all evening, even more so than usual. The ride earlier had been pleasant enough, but there had been a weight to his words, a reluctance in his eyes that she couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t met her father’s gaze in the courtyard, and even now, she realized, she hadn’t seen him much since the ball had started.
Ariana leaned back against the bench, closing her eyes for a moment as the questions churned in her mind. Why had Frederick been so strange lately? He had always been her closest friend, the one person she could count on to be honest with her. But lately, it felt like he was keeping something from her, something big.
Was he in trouble? Or was it something about the ball, the guests, the sudden attention their families seemed to be sharing? She opened her eyes, staring up at the stars once more. The familiar constellations offered no answers, their silent watch only deepening her sense of unease.
“Standing all by yourself again?” a familiar voice broke through the silence and her thoughts.
~~~
Frederick strode through the Trevelyan estate’s gardens, the laughter and music of the ball fading behind him. He’d seen her slip away earlier, a soft shadow against the lantern-lit paths, and though he had lingered for a time, guilt had gnawed at him. He had come out to find her, partly because he hated the idea of her being alone, but mostly because he couldn’t shake the weight of what he knew.
What was he supposed to say to her? How could he look her in the eye and tell her that her life was about to change in ways she couldn’t possibly imagine? That her parents and his had conspired to decide their futures without so much as a word to her? He knew Ariana—knew how fiercely she valued her independence, her freedom. She would feel betrayed, and he would be the one standing in the middle of it all.
He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he glanced around the garden. The soft glow of lanterns caught the edges of the trimmed hedges and cobblestone paths, but the night air did little to calm the turmoil in his chest. He spotted her sitting on a bench beneath an oak tree, her face tilted up to the stars, lost in thought.
For a moment, he hesitated. She looked so at peace, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, the blue and silver dress catching the faint light. It suited her—the bold colors, the understated elegance. She was beautiful in a way that was entirely her own, a combination of strength and vulnerability that had always captivated him. To the rest of the world, she was the youngest Trevelyan daughter, but to him, she was a whirlwind of curiosity, rebellion, and quiet grace.
Frederick had known for years that he was in love with her. He had never said it outright, of course—how could he, when he knew she didn’t feel the same? Ariana was fiercely independent, and while she cared for him deeply, it wasn’t the kind of love he wanted. Still, some part of him had always hoped that, in time, she might see him differently.
He took a deep breath, forcing a smile onto his face as he approached. “Standing all by yourself again?” he called, breaking the quiet.
Ariana turned at the sound of his voice, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Fred,” she said, her tone light but carrying a hint of relief. “Avoiding the party too, are we?”
“Of course,” he said with a laugh, stepping closer. “You know me—I’d much rather be out here than listening to Lord What’s-His-Name brag about his latest hunting trip.” He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the stars above them. “But I saw you leave. Thought you might need company.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “You didn’t have to come after me, you know. I’m fine.”
“I know,” he said softly, sitting down on the bench beside her. “But… maybe I needed the company.”
Ariana smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She leaned back, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the hem of her dress. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong in any of this?” she asked after a moment, her voice quiet.
Frederick blinked, caught off guard by the question. “All the time,” he admitted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “But I figured you’d be used to it by now. You’ve always handled this world better than I have.”
Ariana laughed, a soft, wistful sound. “Have I? Sometimes I think I’m just pretending. Smiling when I’m supposed to, saying the right things. But it all feels… hollow.”
He turned to look at her, his chest tightening. This was the Ariana he knew, the one who carried the weight of her family’s expectations even as she tried to carve out a piece of herself in the midst of it all.
“You know,” he said, his voice lighter now, “we could solve all our problems easily.”
She raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at her lips. “Oh? And how’s that?”
Frederick grinned, nudging her with his shoulder. “We could get married. Think about it—our parents would stop nagging us, and you wouldn’t have to join the Chantry. It’d save us both a lot of headaches.”
Ariana rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. “You’ve been saying that since I was twelve. It was ridiculous then, and it’s ridiculous now.”
“Was it?” he teased, though there was a flicker of something genuine in his tone. “I mean, come on—you could do worse.”
“I could also do better,” she shot back, her smirk widening.
“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest in mock offense. “But seriously, think about it. We get along, we’ve known each other forever. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Ariana shook her head, still smiling. “You’re my friend. My best friend. That’s why this is silly. You don’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry you.”
Frederick’s grin faltered for just a moment before he covered it with a laugh. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back against the bench. “But the offer’s always there, you know. Just in case.”
She gave him a playful shove, and for a moment, things felt normal again. But the weight of what he knew lingered in the back of his mind, a quiet reminder that this moment wouldn’t last.
“Come on,” Ariana said, standing and offering him her hand. “We should get back before our mothers come looking for us.”
Frederick took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. “Lead the way,” he said, forcing himself to smile.
As they walked back toward the estate, he couldn’t help but glance at her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know what was worse—the thought of her hating him for not telling her the truth, or the knowledge that, even if she didn’t, she would never look at him the way he looked at her.
~~~
The garden’s quiet reprieve shattered as Lady Elara’s voice cut through the stillness like the toll of a bell.
“There you are!” her mother exclaimed, descending upon Ariana and Frederick with a stern look that could wilt flowers. “Everyone has been looking for you.”
Ariana turned slowly, her moment of peace slipping through her fingers. “I wasn’t—” she began, but her mother didn’t wait for an explanation. Instead, she grabbed Ariana’s wrist with surprising firmness, her cool blue eyes narrowing.
“You will be the death of me, child,” Lady Elara chastised, her tone more exasperated than angry. “You cannot keep disappearing at these parties, especially not today.”
“Mother, I wasn’t disappearing,” Ariana protested weakly, glancing at Frederick for support. But he, wisely, avoided meeting Lady Elara’s gaze, his posture stiff as he took a step back.
“Enough,” Elara interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “Come with me. Your father and I have a surprise for you.”
The word “surprise” sent a ripple of unease through Ariana’s chest. Her mother’s idea of surprises often meant elaborate plans designed to secure alliances or elevate the family’s standing—plans that rarely accounted for Ariana’s feelings. She glanced at Frederick again, but he looked almost apologetic, as if he knew something she didn’t.
Before Ariana could ask for clarification, Elara began fussing over her, brushing nonexistent dust from her gown and adjusting the high collar. “Hold still,” her mother ordered, the words more command than request. “We cannot have you looking anything less than perfect tonight.”
The dress had already drawn every eye since Ariana had entered the hall. Its intricate embroidery sparkled under the lights, the delicate detailing along the bodice and flowing skirt giving it an ethereal quality. Yet Ariana felt trapped in it. The high collar, the fitted sleeves, even the way the fabric swirled when she walked—it all screamed of control, of being shaped into something she wasn’t.
“Perfect for what, exactly?” Ariana asked, her unease growing. “What’s so important about today?”
Lady Elara gave her a sharp look but said nothing, her silence more telling than any answer. She finally released Ariana’s wrist and motioned toward the estate. “Come along, now. We have kept the guests waiting long enough.”
Ariana hesitated, a thousand questions swirling in her mind, but her mother was already walking ahead, her steps brisk and purposeful. Frederick lingered for a moment, looking as though he wanted to say something, but instead he mumbled an excuse and hurried after Elara.
As they entered the estate, the warm glow of the chandeliers and the hum of lively conversation wrapped around Ariana like a net. The main hall was packed with nobility dressed in their finest, the room buzzing with the kind of polite, calculated energy that had always made her stomach churn.
Her mother glided effortlessly through the crowd, exchanging smiles and nods with a practiced ease that Ariana had never managed to emulate. It was moments like these that highlighted the stark differences between them.
Ariana’s relationship with her mother had always been… strained. Lady Elara was everything a noblewoman should be: poised, devout, and unwavering in her adherence to tradition. She had spent years trying to mold Ariana into a perfect reflection of herself.
Her father, on the other hand, had been her sanctuary. Lord Charles Trevelyan’s love for his youngest daughter was evident in the hours he spent with her, teaching her history, dueling techniques, and even the constellations in the night sky. While her mother had drilled etiquette into her siblings, Charles had shown Ariana a world beyond noble obligations—a world of stories, strategy, and quiet rebellion.
Her closeness to her father had always been a point of contention with Lady Elara. “You indulge her too much,” her mother would say, her disapproval clear. “She needs discipline, not distractions.”
But her father had always smiled in response, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and amusement. “Ariana needs to find her own way,” he would reply. “She has a strength most don’t see. It’s not something you can force into a mold.”
That strength, Ariana suspected, was the very thing her mother sought to suppress. To Elara, a noblewoman’s worth was tied to her obedience, her faith, and her ability to secure alliances through marriage. Ariana’s defiance, her refusal to bend to tradition, was an affront to everything her mother valued.
As they neared the main hall, Lady Elara turned back to her daughter, her expression softening just slightly. “Remember,” she said, her tone almost gentle now, “you are a Trevelyan. Tonight is important. Your father and I… we only want what’s best for you.”
Ariana met her mother’s gaze, searching for sincerity beneath the layers of propriety and expectation. But before she could respond, Elara straightened, smoothing her dress and preparing to rejoin the crowd.
Whatever “surprise” awaited her, Ariana doubted it was something she would want. But with Frederick avoiding her gaze and her mother’s cryptic hints, one thing was clear: tonight was about more than just Summerday.
~~~
The warmth of the main hall did nothing to soothe Ariana’s growing unease. As they crossed the threshold, her hand rested lightly on Frederick’s arm, a facade for the gathered nobles. Her mother, Lady Elara, stood ahead with Duchess Evelyn, both women radiating the kind of confidence that could command armies—or at least an entire ballroom of guests.
Elara didn’t waste a moment. She swept to the center of the hall, plucking a glass of wine from a passing servant with effortless grace. With a single motion, she raised the glass and silence descended over the crowd. The murmurs ceased, all eyes shifting toward her. The room seemed to shrink, the grand chandeliers dimming under the weight of expectation.
“Friends, family, esteemed guests,” Lady Elara began, her tone rich with the confidence of a woman who had orchestrated every detail of this moment. Her gaze swept over the crowd, and Ariana felt as if her mother’s sharp eyes lingered on her, daring her to falter. “We are gathered tonight not only to celebrate Summerday but to mark the beginning of a new chapter—one of unity, prosperity, and promise.”
Elara motioned for Ariana and Frederick to step forward, and though her feet moved of their own accord, Ariana felt as though she were walking to her doom. The starlit fabric of her gown whispered against the marble floor, its elegance a mockery of the turmoil building in her chest.
Duchess Evelyn joined Elara at the front of the room, her smile broad and triumphant. She took Ariana’s free hand in hers, squeezing it with a maternal familiarity that made Ariana’s skin crawl. The Duchess’s voice was warm, her expression glowing with satisfaction. “Tonight, we celebrate the joining of two great houses,” she began. “It is with immense pride and joy that I stand with Lady Elara to announce the engagement of my son, Frederick Decken, and Ariana Ryss Trevelyan.”
The words hit Ariana like a blow. For a moment, she thought she hadn’t heard correctly, but the thunderous applause that followed confirmed it. Her chest tightened as if the air had been stolen from the room. Her eyes darted to her father. Father, please. Stop this.
She found him standing at the edge of the crowd, his expression pained, his shoulders slumped under the weight of unspoken words. When their gazes met, he looked away, retreating through a side door. It was as though he couldn’t bear to watch, leaving her to shoulder this alone.
Beside her, Frederick remained silent, his expression unreadable. She glanced at him, hoping for an ally, but his gaze stayed fixed forward, his posture stiff and unyielding. His hand remained steady beneath hers, but the boy she had spent her childhood laughing with felt like a stranger in that moment.
Duchess Evelyn’s voice broke through Ariana’s spiraling thoughts. “This union will symbolize the bond between our two cities and will mark the beginning of a legacy that will endure for generations. Together, Frederick and Ariana will usher in a new era of strength and stability for both Markham and Ostwick.”
The weight of her future pressed down on her like an iron collar. The applause rose again, louder this time, but it felt distant, muted against the roaring in her ears. She forced herself to smile, her lips curving in the way she had been trained, though every muscle in her face protested. The crowd surged forward, nobles congratulating her, clasping her hands, and showering her with empty pleasantries that only deepened the pit in her stomach.
“Two years from now, on Summerday, they will wed,” Evelyn declared, her voice ringing with triumph. “And tonight marks the beginning of that journey.”
As the room began to shift back to conversation and merriment, Ariana seized the first moment of freedom to pull her hand away. She made an excuse about needing fresh air, slipping past the crowd with a grace born of desperation. She needed space, needed to breathe, and needed to escape before her carefully constructed composure shattered entirely.
~~~
Ariana’s steps quickened as she reached the cool night air of the garden. The soft glow of lanterns strung through the trees did little to calm the storm raging inside her. She hadn’t even made it to the edge of the trellis before she heard his voice.
“Ariana, wait!” Frederick called, his boots crunching against the gravel as he chased after her.
She stopped but didn’t turn around, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She couldn’t face him, not yet. The sharp sting of betrayal burned too fiercely in her chest.
“Ari,” he said again, softer this time, as he caught up to her. “Please, let me explain.”
Her shoulders stiffened at his use of the nickname he’d always called her. It once brought her comfort, a reminder of the bond they had shared since childhood. Now, it grated against her already raw emotions. Slowly, she turned to face him, her hazel-green eyes ablaze with the storm of emotions swirling inside her—anger, despair, betrayal, and an ache so profound it left her breathless.
“Explain?” she echoed, her voice sharp and cutting. “What is there to explain, Frederick? That you knew? That you let me stand there tonight like a fool, blindsided by something you’ve apparently known for weeks?”
Frederick flinched, guilt etched into every line of his face. “Ari, I wanted to tell you—Maker knows I did—but—”
“But you didn’t,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with fury. “You’re my oldest friend. I’ve trusted you more than almost anyone, and tonight you betrayed me.”
Frederick’s hand fell uselessly to his side as he looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Then why didn’t you warn me?” she demanded, stepping closer, her hands trembling as they balled into fists. “You had weeks, Frederick. Weeks! You let me stand there, utterly humiliated, while you pretended like everything was fine. How could you do that to me?”
He took a deep breath, his voice shaky but steadying. “Because I thought… I thought maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe—” He hesitated, his blue eyes filled with regret as they finally met hers. “That maybe you’d see that this could work. That we could work.”
Ariana’s heart clenched at the raw emotion in his voice, but her anger burned brighter. “You thought I’d just go along with it?” she said, her tone dripping with disbelief. “That I’d be grateful for a life I didn’t choose?”
“I’m in love with you, Ariana!” he burst out, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I thought… I hoped that maybe, if you saw this as a chance… we could finally—”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice cold and final. “Don’t you dare try to make this about love. I’ve always known how you felt about me.”
His eyes widened in shock. “You… knew?”
She nodded, her expression hardening. “Of course I knew. But I didn’t want to hurt you, so I pretended not to notice. I thought it was kinder that way.” She took a step back, her arms dropping to her sides as her voice broke. “And knowing that makes this so much worse.”
Frederick looked stricken, his mouth opening to say something, but no words came. Ariana pressed on, her voice trembling but determined. “You figured you could change my mind by force. By staying silent and letting them ambush me with this. You thought if I didn’t have a choice, I’d just… accept it.”
“That’s not what I—” he started, but she cut him off.
“Isn’t it?” she said, her voice rising with the weight of her anger. “If you had warned me—if you’d trusted me enough to tell me the truth—maybe we could’ve planned together. Maybe I could’ve found a way to make this… acceptable. We could’ve worked through this. But you didn’t. You decided for me.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, a truth that neither of them could deny. Frederick looked like he had been struck, the weight of her accusations pressing down on him. “Ari,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” she said, her voice cracking under the strain of her emotions. “I might never forgive you for this, Frederick. And I know I’ll never trust you again.”
The finality in her words hit like a dagger, and Frederick recoiled as though physically wounded. He opened his mouth to speak, but she had already turned, walking away from him and the shattered remains of their friendship.
This time, he didn’t follow.
~~~
Ariana pushed open the heavy doors of the library, her steps faltering as she took in the room bathed in the warm glow of the firelight. Her father, Lord Charles Trevelyan, sat in his usual chair near the hearth, a book resting in his hands. But he wasn’t reading. His gaze was distant, his expression heavy, as if he’d been carrying the weight of the evening for far longer than she had known.
He looked up as she entered, his hazel eyes meeting hers, and in them, she saw the guilt she had been expecting. For a moment, she froze, unsure whether to unleash the storm inside her or beg for some semblance of comfort. Instead, she stepped forward, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak.
“Why?” she demanded, the single word cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Charles sighed deeply, setting the book aside as if it had suddenly grown too heavy to hold. “Ariana,” he said softly, “I knew you would come.”
Her fists clenched at her sides, her voice rising despite her best efforts to remain composed. “Why didn’t you tell me, Father? Why didn’t you warn me? I trusted you—I trusted you more than anyone!”
Her words seemed to strike him like a physical blow. He stood, his movements slow, his face etched with sorrow as he stepped closer. “Ariana, please,” he said, his voice low and measured. “I did everything I could. You must understand—”
“Understand?” she interrupted, her hazel-green eyes blazing with emotion. “What is there to understand? You let me walk into that room completely unprepared, humiliated in front of everyone. I looked for you, hoping you would say something, do something, but you just stood there!”
He looked away, the guilt on his face deepening. “It wasn’t my choice to make,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your mother… the Duke and Duchess… they planned this for months. By the time I knew, it was already set in motion. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”
Ariana shook her head, her voice cracking. “You could have warned me,” she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You could have at least given me the chance to prepare.”
Charles exhaled slowly, the weight of the years evident in his posture. “Ariana,” he began, his tone tinged with both regret and exhaustion, “you should have been sent to the Chantry years ago. It was expected, required of us. But I delayed it—for you. I wanted you here, with me. I did everything in my power to give you more time, to let you grow up as freely as I could manage. But there are limits to what even I can do.”
She felt her chest tighten at his words, her anger warring with the ache of understanding. “You say you tried to protect me,” she said, her voice trembling. “But tonight… you handed me over without a fight. You gave up.”
“I didn’t give up,” he replied firmly, his voice breaking slightly. “I just… ran out of options. This arrangement—it’s not what I wanted for you. But it is better than the alternative. Frederick is someone you know, someone who cares for you. At least this way, you have a chance to make something of it.”
Ariana turned away, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield her from the truth. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want this life. I don’t want any of it.”
Her father stepped closer, his voice soft. “I know, my dear,” he said, the pain in his words unmistakable. “But there are things beyond our control—obligations we cannot escape, no matter how much we wish otherwise.”
The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, and she sank onto the nearest chair, burying her face in her hands as sobs overtook her. Charles hesitated for a moment before sitting beside her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. She didn’t resist, leaning into him as he held her, his hand brushing soothingly over her hair.
“I wish I could have done more,” he murmured. “I wish the world were kinder to you. But even though it may not feel like it now, you are stronger than you know. You will endure this, Ariana. I have no doubt.”
Her sobs subsided slowly, her body trembling as she clung to him. For a moment, she allowed herself to take comfort in his presence, even as the betrayal still lingered in her heart.
“Even if it doesn’t seem like it,” he whispered, his voice breaking, “out of all my children, you are the one I love most. I hope you can forgive me someday.”
Ariana didn’t respond, the weight of his words too much to bear. Instead, she let herself rest against him, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up to her. Together, they sat in silence, father and daughter, bound by love and regret, as the fire crackled softly in the background.