After the door slammed shut, shadows swallowed her. Her ears rang, picking up faint, distant shouts of someone calling her name. The carriage jolted into motion, rattling violently, tossing her back down to the floor.

Light was scarce. A single window on each wall, small and high up, barely pierced the gloom. It wasn't what she would call a luxurious carriage. It looked more like a jailer’s cart—barren, dark, and cold.

In her panic, she hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone.

As she pushed herself upright, bracing against the door, her eyes adjusted. Three figures lurked in the shadows. Three benches lined the walls, one beneath each window. On the far end sat a small, hunched figure, knees drawn to their chest, brown hair spilling like a curtain over their face. On the opposite bench, two even smaller forms were pressed tight together, clinging to one another.

She blinked, wide-eyed and confused.

They're... kids.

The girl on the far end was hard to place—maybe ten? Eleven? But the two huddled together couldn’t be older than eight. The boy had his arms wrapped around the girl protectively, one hand gently smoothing her hair. He stared at her with a wary, guarded glare. Still, his nose and cheeks were red and blotchy, his eyes wet with tears he’d clearly tried to hide.

She didn’t know what to do—her mind was still frozen. After a long, tense moment of eye contact with the younger boy, she awkwardly crossed the carriage and sat on the bench opposite them. Her legs were shaky, and the rocking of the carriage only made it worse. The only sounds were the creaking wheels on the rough road and the soft sniffles of the girl.

Eventually, the boy looked away. He glanced down at the girl and murmured something. His expression crumpled slightly as she let out a quiet cry, curling into herself. He looked helpless, unsure of how to comfort her.

Scarlett leaned forward, her voice soft. “Are you alright?”

The girl lifted her head slowly, just as the boy’s brows knotted together. He pulled her closer, protective. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before meeting her gaze.

Scarlett blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t realized she was staring. The girl’s eyes were a pale, dusty gray—like a smooth riverstone, soft and shining. She'd never seen eyes like her's before.

The boy whispered to her again, but this time, the girl gently shrugged off his arm and whispered, “I’m okay.” She wiped her eyes again and fixed her gaze back on Scarlett. “I didn’t think anyone else would be joining,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joining?

The word hit her like a drop of cold water. Something in the girl’s quiet voice made her skin crawl. Joining what? Her heart lurched, and she had to consciously slow her breathing. She swiped a thumb under her eye, brushing away the tears clinging to her lower lashes.

The girl watched her carefully, clearly picking up on the confusion in her face. “When they took me and my brother, she was already here.” She pointed a small finger toward the girl at the far end of the carriage. “Don’t bother trying to talk to her. She doesn’t say much.”

She glanced over.

The girl on the far bench remained curled up, barely moving. Her hair hung over her face like a curtain, but Scarlett could still see the glint of her eyes peeking through the strands. Even in the dim light, they shimmered—misty green, like fog over a forest. Something about them sent another chill through Scarlett’s spine.

She turned back to the children. “I’m Scarlett,” she said, the words feeling clumsy in her mouth. It felt like an inappropriate time for such formalities.

The little girl perked up. “I’m Via.”

She nudged her brother, who sighed and muttered, “Olive.”

She glanced toward the other girl at the far end of the bench. She was still glaring, unmoving.

“Don’t bother,” Olive said, tossing a look in her direction. “She’s barely said a word since we left Duplen.”

“Duplen?” Scarlett repeated, too loudly.

Via nodded, unfazed. “We’re from Duplen. She’s from Moshtain."

“Moshtain?” Scarlett echoed, her voice rising again. “How long have you been in here? How long have you been traveling?” Her heart started to race again, drumming in her ears.

“Two weeks,” came a rough, quiet voice from the other end of the cart.

Scarlett froze. The girl had answered.

“Two weeks?” she sputtered out, stunned. “But—that’s impossible. Duplen alone is a week by carriage. Moshtain’s at least four just to reach the southern border.”

The real shock came when the girl spoke again. “They used waygates.”

Scarlett’s thoughts scrambled. She’d only ever used a waygate once—on a trip to Moshtain to visit her grandmother. It took a very powerful mage or saint to open a waygate, and the mana cost was enormous. Regular people couldn’t use them without help: either from someone strong enough to cast the spell or with a mana stone that cost more than most families made in a year.

If the guards were using waygates to move them... something big was going on.

She tried to shake the tremble from her limbs, forcing a small, wavering smile. “Thank you, miss…” she trailed off, leaving space for the girl to offer her name.

After a pause, the girl lifted her head slightly, eyes averted. “Evelyn,” she murmured.

Scarlett’s smile steadied as she took a calming breath. “Thank you, Evelyn.”

Evelyn flushed and quickly ducked her head again.

She turned back to the younger children. “Via? How long have you and your brother been here?”

Via’s bottom lip quivered. “Four days,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering with fresh tears.

Scarlett fretted as Via covered her face with both hands. Olive immediately pulled his sister close, shooting Scarlett a scowl.

Oh, come on. Don’t make me feel worse.

She reached into her pocket, fumbling for a handkerchief, then held it out. But as she did, something slipped free and hit the floor with a soft thud. A croissant rolled away, wobbling across the carriage floor.

She blinked. I forgot I had that.

Her stomach gave a soft protest. It felt absurd to be hungry right then, in the middle of everything. She hesitated, then stooped to pick it up. Thankfully, the floor didn’t seem too filthy.

“Apologies,” she murmured with a sheepish chuckle, handing the handkerchief to Via. “I forgot I had that.”

Via took the cloth but kept her eyes fixed on the croissant. Next to her, Olive’s stomach let out a loud growl, and his cheeks flushed.

Her own stomach answered with a rumble. She laughed, covering her mouth, and across from her, Olive buried his face in his hands while Via tried—unsuccessfully—to smother her giggles.

“It seems we’re all a little hungry,” she said, gently taking the handkerchief back from Via, who had just finished wiping her eyes. She tore off a piece of the croissant and offered it to Olive.

He eyed it warily, his expression guarded.

She grinned and waved it teasingly. “Oh, come now—you can’t possibly dislike pastries. There’s chocolate in it,” she added in a singsong voice.

Before she could finish, small hands snatched it from her. Olive’s cheeks remained stubbornly pink as he stared down at his lap. She thought she heard him mumble a soft thank you. Without hesitation, he split the piece in half and passed one to Via.

Scarlett smiled, touched. “You didn’t have to do that. I’ve got more for her too—that bit was yours, sweetheart.” She tore off another piece for Via, handing it over with care.

She watched the exchange, warmth blooming in her chest. She’d never seen siblings share like that without being told. Gods, she thought, Harmon and I would’ve readily wrestled each other for the last of Mr. Covet’s sweet rolls.

She smirked faintly. And Marie once bit Collin for the last slice of pie. Actually bit him. I think he still has the scar.

Scarlett watched the siblings across from her, smiling as Via held up her piece to Olive to show him. Her gaze drifted to the far end of the carriage, where the older girl sat curled up, eyeing the exchange warily. Her gaze flicked between the croissant and Scarlett, only to dart away when their eyes met.

Scarlett tore off another piece. “Here,” she said, holding it out gently. “Only if you want it. You don’t have to.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a hand reached out, hesitant, and took the offering. She brought it close, slowly lowering her knees as she took a cautious bite.

Scarlett fought to keep her smile subtle, though she wanted to beam. She must have noticed because she gave her a scowl before turning away to eat.

“I’m guessing you haven’t stopped for lunch today,” Scarlett said, thinking back to the moment the chaos began. It had been just before noon, and the carriage didn’t seem like it was stopping anytime soon.

Olive nodded, brushing crumbs from his mouth. “They usually stop before dark to set up camp and give us dinner. In the morning we get breakfast before riding all day.”

“No lunch?” Scarlett asked, taking a bite to quiet her own growling stomach.

Via licked her lips, leaving a smear of chocolate behind. “Not really. Just a couple breaks.”

No lunch?

It felt silly to fixate on something so minor in the middle of everything else—but still. She would be fine. She was seventeen, but the others were just kids. They were tiny. Skinny. And probably exhausted from nonstop travel.

"Are you okay, Miss Scarlett?" Via asked, finishing the last of her croissant and wiping her hands on her dress.

She blinked, not realizing her face had scrunched up in thought. "Huh? Oh—yes, I'm fine. And you don't have to call me 'Miss'," she said with a warm smile.

Her gaze lifted to the small windows. She stood on the bench, stretching up to grab the narrow ledge.

Via tilted her head. "What are you doing, Miss Scarlett?"

"Just a moment, dear." Scarlett peered out the window. Sure enough, a guard on horseback rode beside the carriage. She could only assume there was one on every side. The whole setup felt excessive—like they were transporting either a king… or a revered criminal.

Her legs wobbled a little as she stepped down. She still had no idea what to make of any of it.

"If you wanna talk to someone," Olive piped up, pointing to the window above Evelyn, "you gotta use that one. For water or… you know."

She made her way over, surprised when Evelyn scooted aside without being asked—though she did it with a faint scowl. She reached up and looked through the narrow opening. There, just as Olive had said, was the driver and someone else in the passenger seat.

"Excuse me?" She called, raising her voice above the rumble of the wheels. "Hello?"

The two figures at the front didn’t even twitch. They were too busy talking to each other, laughing at something she couldn’t hear.

She frowned.

"Are they talking?" Olive asked knowingly. “They talk a lot.”

She hated what his words implied—that he had tried, probably more than once, to get their attention and been ignored.

Shouldn’t an adult be riding with them?

"Hey!" she snapped, pounding on the wall. Everyone jumped. "Excuse me!"

The driver and his companion turned, startled, their conversation cut short. The carriage slowed slightly.

"Hello—thank you," she said, softening her voice and offering a strained smile. "Could we pull over for a moment?"

The driver blinked. "Do you… uh, need somethin’, miss?"

Scarlett bit back a scoff. What do you think?

"I need to speak with someone—anyone, please."

The driver glanced at the man with glasses, waiting for a cue. Whatever response he received was subtle, but when the driver turned back, his expression held only a faint trace of apology.

"Is there anything else you need, miss?"

Her patience frayed. "We could use some water," she bit back.

The driver gave a quick nod, and the carriage slowed further. She climbed down from the bench, brushing the wrinkles from her dress with a sigh. She waited for the carriage to come to a stop, but it never did. Instead, the door creaked open as it continued rolling forward at a slow crawl.

A guard jogged alongside the moving carriage, awkwardly holding out a water sack. "Here. Give it back when you're done."

She took it, staring at him. "We can’t keep it in here?"

"Uh… well, no." He blinked at her like she was the unreasonable one.

"Why not? They’re kids. What do you think they’re going to do—drown someone with it?" Her tone came out sharper than she meant. It was probably not wise to antagonize the people holding the swords. "You expect them to go most of the day without water?"

"If they want some, they can ask." He frowned, like she’d insulted him.

"I did ask. And I had to stand on a bench to do it. I can barely reach the window to talk to the coachman; how do you expect them to reach it?" She pointed back into the carriage. The kids instantly leaned away, like they didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.

The guard glanced nervously toward the front of the caravan, then sighed and threw up a hand. "Fine. Keep the water. Just… don’t spill it."

Scarlett stepped back as he shut the door. The lock clicked into place, and the rattle of keys echoed behind it.

She exhaled shakily, legs threatening to give out beneath her. Her heart thudded so hard she felt light-headed. She stumbled back to her seat and sank down, pressing her head against the wall as the carriage rumbled on. 

That was unbelievably stupid of me. 

She closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her temple. Ugh, I have such a headache.

There was a small shuffle beside her, and when she opened her eyes, Olive was suddenly right there. "That was, like, the coolest thing ever!"

He leaned in close, nearly knocking the breath out of her.

"Huh?" She blinked, glancing around like he might be talking to someone else.

"You talked like an adult. I've never seen anyone speak to a royal guard like that."

She let out a nervous laugh—neither had she. Honestly, she was shocked she was still in one piece. Her stomach flipped with a delayed wave of anxiety.

"My brother’s in the Navy, so I guess the uniforms don’t scare me much anymore. Once you realize the guy in the armor is probably just a numbskull like your brother, it's easier."

She tried to push the thought of her brother aside, but it lodged deep in her chest like a thorn. It had been over a month since she’d seen him. What if that moment—quick, casual, unfinished—had been the last? The idea made her stomach twist.

How would the Dominiques even explain it to him? Sorry, your sister was dragged off by royal guards and disappeared without a trace.

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes for just a second. It hadn’t been that long since she’d been taken, but already she felt… tired. The adrenaline was gone, leaving only a heavy weariness behind.

“Miss?” Olive’s voice pulled her back.

She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed again. Her head lolled slightly to the side, her body heavy and sluggish. She wanted to respond, but her limbs felt distant, like they weren’t quite hers. The fog in her mind thickened.

Somewhere in the blur, she registered movement—maybe a hand brushing her sleeve. But it was distant. Like a memory fading even as it happened.

Eventually, she stopped trying to stay awake.