“He looks so bright.”
The whisper traveled farther than the two maids who exchanged it had likely intended.
Aurelian pretended not to hear.
He walked beside Seraphina through the stone halls of the Vaelmont stronghold, listening as she explained the history of her family’s home. She pointed out portraits of former dukes and duchesses, old additions to the fortress, and rooms whose purposes had changed several times over the centuries.
Whenever something caught Aurelian’s attention—a carving worked into an archway, an old tapestry, a peculiar crest mounted above a doorway—Seraphina noticed almost immediately and explained it before he could even ask.
He listened with genuine interest.
Unfortunately, he was also becoming increasingly aware that nearly everyone else was interested in him.
Servants paused just a little too long when they passed. Maids whispered behind raised hands. Footmen attempted to maintain their professionalism while their eyes followed him down the corridor.
Most of what Aurelian overheard sounded harmless. Curious, certainly, and sometimes almost delighted.
“He really does have golden hair.”
“I thought they were exaggerating.”
“Do you think that is why Her Grace—”
Aurelian kept his eyes determinedly forward.
Not every whisper was so welcoming.
A few voices carried more skepticism than excitement.
“He is only a baron.”
“From the south.”
“Does he even understand what it is like here?”
Those voices were quieter, but Aurelian heard them all the same.
He could hardly blame anyone for their suspicion. Even so, it was uncomfortable to hear questions he had scarcely dared ask himself spoken aloud.
He was a stranger who had arrived from the opposite end of the empire and had immediately been welcomed into their duchess’s home as her fiancé. Seraphina had personally greeted him upon his arrival and was now escorting him through the fortress herself.
Special treatment would have been putting it mildly.
“Aurel.”
Aurelian immediately looked toward her.
Seraphina had stopped walking.
“Yes?”
Her icy blue eyes studied him for a moment before dropping toward his neck.
“Keep this on.”
Before he could ask what she meant, she reached toward him and adjusted the scarf wrapped around his throat.
Aurelian went perfectly still.
Her movements were careful as she tugged the fabric higher, making certain there were no gaps between the scarf and the collar of his coat. Her fingers briefly brushed beneath his chin as she straightened it.
The whispering around them increased considerably.
Aurelian’s cheeks turned pink. This time, he was quite certain the cold had nothing to do with it.
Seraphina appeared entirely unconcerned by their audience.
“Until I show you your chambers,” she clarified. “We will be going outside again soon, and I do not want you removing layers merely because the fortress feels warmer.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Seraphina gave him a look.
Aurelian hesitated.
“…Not immediately.”
The faintest smile touched her mouth.
“Come.”
Her hand lowered from his scarf.
He thought she meant to continue walking.
Instead, her fingers found his.
They curled around his hand with such natural certainty that Aurelian forgot entirely what he had been about to say.
Behind them, someone made a very small, very excited sound.
Seraphina ignored it. Aurelian tried, with considerably less success.
Still holding his hand, Seraphina led him farther into the Vaelmont stronghold.
By the time the indoor portion of the tour came to an end, Aurelian had learned enough about the fortress to fill several pages of notes.
Seraphina led him toward a pair of heavy ebony doors at the end of a corridor. Two guards stationed there immediately pulled them open and stepped aside.
Cold air rushed inside.
Aurelian instinctively tucked his chin deeper into the scarf Seraphina had so insistently adjusted around his neck.
Outside, the inner courtyard had been cleared of most of the recent snowfall. Great piles of white had been shoveled toward the edges of the yard, gathering against the dark stone walls surrounding the fortress. Icicles hung beneath ledges, and every breath left a pale cloud in the air.
Beyond the courtyard walls, the sound of steel striking steel carried clearly through the cold.
Aurelian followed Seraphina through an open passage and soon found himself overlooking the training grounds.
Dozens of soldiers occupied the wide field below.
Some practiced sword forms in pairs while others worked with spears, shields, and bows. Several groups were running drills beneath the supervision of officers whose voices carried sharply across the snow. Those resting between exercises stood near large iron braziers, warming gloved hands beside the flames while passing around steaming cups of something fragrant and spiced.
The moment Seraphina entered the grounds, everything changed.
One soldier noticed her first.
“Commander!”
The word traveled through the field like a signal.
Weapons lowered.
Conversations stopped.
Men and women straightened almost simultaneously before bowing toward her.
“Commander! Welcome back!”
Seraphina acknowledged them with a small nod.
“I am only stopping briefly,” she said. “I am showing my fiancé around the grounds.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Aurelian blinked.
Several soldiers stared at Seraphina as though they were waiting for her to correct herself.
One man’s mouth actually fell open.
Another slowly lowered the cup he had been drinking from.
“What?”
The question escaped someone near the back before they could apparently stop themselves.
Seraphina’s expression did not change.
That was when the soldiers seemed to realize someone was standing slightly behind her.
Aurelian.
Wrapped thoroughly in his winter coat and scarf, golden hair bright against the gray northern sky, he lifted his free hand in a small wave.
His smile was nervous but sincere.
“Good afternoon.”
No one answered.
Aurelian’s smile faltered slightly.
“I apologize for interrupting your training.”
Still nothing.
He glanced toward Seraphina before looking back at the soldiers.
“Sera wanted to show me around before I settled in.”
Several pairs of eyes widened.
One soldier turned their head very slowly toward another.
Aurelian had called her Sera.
Not Your Grace.
Not Commander Vaelmont.
Not even Duchess.
Sera.
And the duchess had not drawn her sword.
She had not corrected him.
She had not even looked annoyed.
If anything, she appeared perfectly accustomed to it.
The soldiers stared at Aurelian with renewed fascination.
He stood beside one of the most feared commanders many of them had ever served beneath, bundled in enough wool to survive a blizzard and smiling apologetically as though he were the one inconveniencing them.
Aurelian could almost imagine what they were thinking.
He must have looked like a rabbit standing comfortably beside a wolf.
A rabbit, apparently, under the wolf’s personal protection.
Seraphina glanced across the silent training ground.
“You may continue.”
“Yes, Commander!”
The soldiers immediately returned to their drills.
Or attempted to.
Aurelian noticed that an impressive number of them suddenly seemed incapable of looking anywhere except in his direction.
He waited until they had reluctantly returned their attention to their exercises before leaning slightly closer to Seraphina.
He raised one hand beside his mouth and lowered his voice.
“Did I disturb them with my presence?”
The question was entirely sincere.
Seraphina surveyed the training field once more.
“No.”
She gave his hand a gentle tug and began leading him away from the center of the grounds.
“It appears my vice general neglected to inform them of your arrival.”
Aurelian’s attention immediately sharpened.
Her vice general?
She had never mentioned them before.
He knew, of course, that Seraphina could not possibly oversee every aspect of her command entirely on her own. Someone had to stand beside her during campaigns, supervise training in her absence, carry out orders, and manage the countless smaller responsibilities that came with commanding soldiers.
Still, this was the first time she had mentioned the person directly.
Aurelian found himself wondering what sort of person held such an important position beside her.
How long had they served together?
Were they close?
They must have relied upon each other through years of work Aurelian knew almost nothing about. There was no reason for that to trouble him.
Yet the thought produced a strange little tug somewhere beneath his ribs.
Aurelian nearly jolted.
His free hand rose to his chest.
What was that?
He pressed his palm lightly against his coat. Perhaps the cold was affecting him more than he realized.
“I will show you the armory another time,” Seraphina continued. “Let us ride through town first. Then I want to show you the winter gardens.”
Aurelian lowered his hand.
“Yes. Of course.”
He followed her, though the peculiar sensation lingered for several moments before fading.
Surely that was nothing to worry about.
They crossed the far end of the training grounds and eventually reached the stables built along the outer wall. The scent of hay, leather, and horses greeted Aurelian before they even stepped beneath the covered entrance.
A young stable boy waited for them with two horses already saddled.
He could not have been more than thirteen or fourteen.
One was a brown-and-white pinto mare of moderate height, standing patiently beside a bucket as she pulled at a strand of hay hanging over its edge.
The second horse was impossible to overlook.
A great black draft stallion towered over the mare, powerful through the chest and shoulders, with thick feathering around his lower legs and small markings of white near his hooves.
Despite his enormous size, he remained perfectly calm as Seraphina approached.
“You may return home, Asher.”
Seraphina released Aurelian’s hand and walked toward the boy.
“Check on your mother.”
The boy’s face brightened with unmistakable relief.
“Thank you, Duchess!”
He bowed quickly before hurrying away from the stable, boots kicking lightly through the snow.
Aurelian watched him go.
He made a quiet note to ask about the boy’s mother later. Seraphina had spoken as though giving him time to go home required no explanation at all.
Seraphina approached the enormous black horse and rested a hand against his muzzle. The animal immediately lowered his head toward her touch.
“I have heard you are excellent on horseback.”
Aurelian felt warmth creep unexpectedly into his cheeks.
“Not exactly excellent,” he said modestly. “Merely well accustomed to it.”
He had been riding for as long as he could remember. Bellafonte was simply too large a territory to avoid becoming comfortable in a saddle.
Still, hearing the compliment from Seraphina felt oddly different from hearing it from his friends.
Perhaps because she herself was undoubtedly an exceptional rider.
Seraphina glanced toward the smaller mare.
“Celly will let you ride her.”
At the sound of her name, the mare lifted her head from the hay.
Aurelian immediately smiled.
Celly.
What a sweet name.
It also sounded suspiciously familiar.
He decided not to ask whether the queen knew a horse had apparently been given a name so close to her own.
Aurelian approached the mare and gently stroked the side of her neck before taking the reins.
“And your horse?”
Seraphina’s hand remained against the great stallion’s face.
“What is his name?”
“Liam.”
Something in her expression softened.
It was slight enough that another person might have missed it entirely, but Aurelian had begun to recognize those small changes in her.
Her fingers moved gently through the horse’s dark forelock.
“After my father.”
Aurelian’s smile faded into something quieter.
“Oh.”
He looked at Liam again.
The enormous horse stood patiently beneath Seraphina’s hand, his dark head lowered toward her as though he had done so a thousand times before.
Aurelian suddenly felt as though he had been allowed to glimpse something private. He recognized the tenderness of keeping someone close through the things left behind.
“He must have been very important to you,” he said softly.
Seraphina stared at him for a moment.
“He was an exceptional leader,” she said at last, “and an even better father to Celeste and me.”
Something in her voice changed when she spoke of him.
The usual firmness softened, becoming lighter and almost wistful. For the briefest moment, Aurelian could imagine Seraphina years younger, before she had inherited titles, responsibilities, soldiers, and an entire northern territory to protect.
He wanted to ask more.
Before he could decide whether he should, Seraphina placed one boot into the stirrup and swung herself smoothly onto Liam’s back.
The conversation, it seemed, was finished. Aurelian did not press her, though he hoped she might tell him more someday.
He turned toward Celly instead and stroked the mare’s neck.
“Well, hello.”
Celly flicked one ear toward him.
“You and I will be getting acquainted today.”
She appeared reasonably accepting of this arrangement.
Aurelian placed his foot into the stirrup and mounted with practiced ease. Celly was close enough in height to his own horse in Bellafonte that he immediately felt comfortable in the saddle. He adjusted the reins, settled his weight, and gave the mare another gentle pat.
Seraphina watched him.
Aurelian noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
That answer was suspicious.
Before he could question her, Seraphina turned Liam toward the road.
“We will ride through town first.”
Aurelian nodded.
“All right.”
With the lightest pressure of her heels, Seraphina sent Liam forward.
Aurelian followed.
They crossed the remaining grounds at an easy pace before passing through another fortified gate and onto the road beyond the stronghold.
The landscape gradually changed as they approached the town.
The imposing stone walls surrounding the fortress gave way to tightly packed buildings with steep roofs designed to prevent snow from gathering too heavily. Chimneys released steady streams of smoke into the pale winter sky. Evergreen garlands hung above several doorways, while barrels of sand and salt had been placed along the busiest portions of the road.
Despite the cold, the town was alive.
Carts loaded with sacks of grain, preserved vegetables, firewood, salted meat, and other winter provisions moved slowly over the cobblestones. Merchants stood outside their shops bundled in thick coats. Soldiers patrolled intersections and helped direct wagons through the crowded streets.
The steady clacking of horseshoes against frozen stone followed them through town.
Seraphina rode slightly ahead.
People noticed her almost immediately.
“Your Grace.”
“Good afternoon, Duchess.”
“Commander.”
Some bowed deeply.
Others simply lowered their heads respectfully as she passed.
Seraphina acknowledged each greeting.
Then she suddenly slowed Liam.
“Alan.”
A soldier patrolling along the edge of the street looked over.
“Commander?”
“Your coat is coming undone.”
The man glanced down.
Several buttons had worked themselves loose.
“Ah.” He laughed as he quickly began fastening them again. “I was wondering why I suddenly got chilly.”
Aurelian covered a smile.
“Thank you, Commander.”
“Where is Larissa?”
“Down at Reginald’s.” Alan pointed farther along the street. “There was a brawl earlier. She went to separate them.”
Seraphina’s expression flattened.
“A brawl?”
“Apparently.”
“I will see to it myself.”
Alan gave her a sympathetic look that suggested whoever had started the fight was about to deeply regret several decisions.
Seraphina urged Liam onward.
Aurelian followed quietly.
A short distance later, she asked an elderly merchant whether the replacement shutters for his shop had arrived.
They had.
She stopped long enough to ask a woman standing outside a bakery whether her youngest daughter’s fever had broken.
It had, two nights earlier.
A soldier received a reminder about a damaged strap on his armor.
A shopkeeper was asked whether the additional firewood he had requested had finally been delivered.
Aurelian gradually stopped looking at the buildings. He found himself watching Seraphina instead.
Again and again, she greeted people by name.
Not everyone, certainly. The town was far too large for that.
But enough for Aurelian to understand that none of this was performance.
These were not carefully selected citizens brought forward because the duchess happened to be passing through.
Seraphina simply knew them.
She remembered their problems and, more importantly, thought to ask whether they had been solved.
Something warm settled in Aurelian’s chest.
He had always admired intelligence, but this was something more.
It was attention.
Stewardship.
Seraphina did not merely rule the north from behind the walls of her fortress.
She knew what happened beyond them.
Aurelian understood that instinctively.
His father behaved much the same way in Bellafonte.
There was little point in possessing land if one never bothered to learn how the people living upon it were doing.
“Wow!”
A high voice abruptly pulled Aurelian from his thoughts.
Several children had gathered alongside Celly.
They hurried beside the mare as she walked, bundled beneath layers of wool, scarves, hats, and mittens.
One little girl stared openly at him.
“I’ve never seen hair that bright before!”
Another child pointed upward.
“You look like the sun!”
Aurelian glanced around.
Now that they had mentioned it...
Dark hair was overwhelmingly common here.
Black. Brown. Deep gray. Even among the soldiers he had passed, lighter shades seemed uncommon.
Seraphina’s silver hair already stood apart, although hers suited the cold landscape so perfectly that she almost appeared to belong to the snow itself.
Aurelian, meanwhile, was riding through the middle of a northern town with golden hair shining beneath the pale daylight.
He looked down at the children again.
“Oh.”
The realization came rather belatedly.
He must have stood out like a sunflower planted in the middle of a snowbank.
“How do you know the duchess?”
One of the boys had moved closer, grinning up at him with a wide, gap-toothed smile.
Before Aurelian could answer, another child called from beside him.
“Where are you from?”
“What’s your name?”
“Are you staying here?”
“Why is your hair like that?”
Aurelian opened his mouth.
He had absolutely no idea which question to answer first.
Seraphina glanced toward the cluster gathering dangerously close to Celly’s legs.
“If you do not pay attention,” she said calmly, “the horse will step on you.”
The effect was immediate.
The children scattered several paces away from Celly with startled cries.
Aurelian stared at Seraphina.
“They were only curious.”
“I know.”
Her gaze shifted toward the children, who were now following from a much safer distance.
“Do not frighten him away. He only arrived in Vaelmont earlier today.”
Aurelian’s eyebrows lifted.
Frighten him away?
He was fairly certain Seraphina was the more intimidating person between them.
A chuckle came from the side of the road.
An older woman stood outside a small shop, wrapped in a heavy wool coat with a basket tucked beneath one arm. She had apparently been watching the entire exchange with considerable amusement.
Her eyes traveled over Aurelian.
“Well,” she said pleasantly, “he is rather handsome.”
Aurelian nearly lost his grip on the reins.
“Oh, I—”
“I am aware.”
Seraphina said it without hesitation.
Without embarrassment.
Without even looking particularly concerned that she had said it aloud.
Aurelian slowly turned his head toward her.
Seraphina continued riding as though nothing unusual had happened.
Heat rushed immediately into his face.
Again.
He looked away before anyone could notice just how red his cheeks had become, though judging by the older woman’s delighted expression, he was already far too late.
Seraphina truly had an alarming ability to make him blush like a boy experiencing his first infatuation.
The worst part was that she never seemed to realize what she was doing.
Or perhaps she did.
That possibility was considerably more dangerous.
After saying their goodbyes—and escaping the increasingly curious looks following them through the street—Aurelian and Seraphina continued toward Reginald’s.
They heard the disturbance before they reached it.
A woman dressed in dark armor stood outside the establishment, her black hair pulled into a high ponytail. She held a dagger in one hand, its point directed toward a man bound on the ground before her.
The man was thoroughly drunk.
He spat slurred curses beneath his breath, struggling uselessly against the rope around his wrists.
“Larissa.”
The knight looked up immediately.
She straightened and saluted.
“Commander. What brings you here?”
“I was giving a tour,” Seraphina answered. “Alan informed me there had been a disturbance.”
“Yes.”
Larissa glanced toward the man at her feet.
Only then did he seem to realize precisely who had arrived.
His drunken muttering stopped.
He stared up at Seraphina sitting astride Liam, and whatever remained of his courage disappeared from his face.
“I was about to take him to the holding cells for the night,” Larissa explained. “He broke several chairs inside.”
She gestured over her shoulder.
Through the open doorway, Aurelian could see splintered pieces of wood scattered across the floor.
A broad older man was crouched among the wreckage, collecting broken chair legs and shards of timber into a pile.
An older woman worked beside him.
Aurelian’s expression changed when she turned her head.
A dark welt was beginning to swell across one cheek.
“And,” Larissa continued, her voice hardening, “he struck Mildred when she tried to stop him from swinging at Reginald.”
Aurelian frowned. It was the sort of injury someone might dismiss while concealing something worse, and the thought made him uneasy.
Without saying anything, he swung one leg over Celly’s back and dismounted.
Seraphina watched him walk toward the tavern.
Larissa blinked.
Only then did she seem to properly notice the unfamiliar golden-haired man who had been riding beside her commander.
Aurelian stepped through the doorway.
“Mildred?”
The older woman looked at him in surprise.
“Are you hurt anywhere besides your face?”
“Oh.” She touched her cheek gingerly. “I’ll survive.”
“That was not what I asked.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Aurelian heard the sharpness in his own voice and immediately softened.
“Forgive me. I only meant that you should sit down.”
Mildred glanced at Reginald, then toward the wreckage.
“There is all this to clean—”
“Which is precisely why you should sit down.”
Aurelian crouched beside Reginald and reached for one of the broken chair legs.
“Allow me.”
Reginald looked up sharply.
“Oh! No, sir, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s all right.”
Aurelian smiled and reached for another piece.
“Our elders should be resting, not kneeling on a floor cleaning up someone else’s poor decisions.”
Mildred stared at him.
Reginald hesitated before slowly surrendering the broken piece in his hand.
“Well…”
Aurelian held out his hand for it.
“Please.”
Reginald finally passed it over.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mildred, apparently deciding she had been thoroughly outnumbered, lowered herself into a nearby chair. Only then did Aurelian allow himself to relax a little.
Outside, Larissa continued watching through the open doorway.
“Who is that, Commander?”
She hauled the drunken man upright with surprising ease.
He stumbled once before she caught the back of his coat and unceremoniously deposited him into a nearby cart.
He landed against the wooden bed with a heavy thud.
Seraphina barely glanced at him.
Her attention remained on Aurelian.
“My fiancé.”
Larissa froze.
Her head whipped toward Seraphina.
“Really?”
Seraphina nodded once.
Larissa immediately looked back toward Aurelian.
This time, she studied him with considerably greater interest.
Several minutes later, Aurelian emerged from Reginald’s and returned to Celly.
Before mounting, he tucked a bottle of gin carefully into Celly’s saddlebag.
“I apologize,” he said as he settled into the saddle. “I couldn’t leave them to clean everything themselves.”
Seraphina’s gaze dropped toward the saddlebag.
Aurelian followed it.
“Oh.”
He gave the saddlebag a sheepish pat.
“They insisted.”
From the doorway, Reginald raised one hand.
“For the help!”
Mildred stood beside him, one hand resting carefully against her bruised cheek.
“Come back anytime, young man!”
Aurelian smiled brightly and waved.
“Thank you!”
Beside him, Larissa stared.
Aurelian lowered his hand and noticed.
He gave her the same polite smile.
“Good afternoon.”
Larissa looked at Seraphina.
Then at Aurelian.
Then back at Seraphina.
Whatever questions she had, she wisely decided not to ask them while her commander was present.
“We should be moving.”
Seraphina gathered Liam’s reins and turned him back toward the road.
“Continue your patrol. And have the physician examine Mildred.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Larissa climbed onto the front of the cart, pausing long enough to make certain the drunken man was still sprawled in the back before taking the reins.
The cart rattled away down the road.
Aurelian watched it disappear before nudging Celly forward and following Seraphina.
The farther they traveled from the center of town, the quieter the streets became.
Shops and tightly packed homes gradually gave way to smaller buildings and open stretches of land. Fewer carts passed them. The noise of merchants, soldiers, and townspeople faded behind them until there was little left beyond the steady rhythm of horseshoes against the road and the whisper of winter wind.
Then they passed through another section of the outer wall.
Aurelian stopped.
Beyond it stretched an immense field of white.
Snow-covered plains rolled toward distant hills, untouched enough that the landscape almost seemed endless beneath the pale sky.
At first, Aurelian thought there was nothing there.
No houses.
No trees.
No dark patches of earth breaking through the snow.
Only white.
Then he noticed the obelisk.
A tall monument of dark stone stood near the edge of the field, rising sharply from the snow.
Aurelian’s gaze lowered.
Small shapes protruded from the ground around it.
Rows upon rows of them.
His breath caught.
Gravestones.
The snow had covered nearly everything beneath a smooth white blanket, leaving only portions of stone visible above the surface.
Aurelian slowed Celly to a complete stop.
He stared across the field.
There were so many. He searched for the edge of the burial ground and could not see it from where he sat.
His eyes eventually returned to the monument.
Words had been carved deeply into its face.
In remembrance of those who stood beneath Vaelmont’s banner and gave their lives in defense of the north and the empire. May their courage endure beyond the winter.
For several moments, Aurelian said nothing.
The northern soldiers he had seen training earlier suddenly felt different in his memory.
So did the walls.
The patrols.
The armory Seraphina had intended to show him.
The constant preparations.
Bellafonte had known hardship. Floods destroyed fields. Illness could spread through villages. Drought and damaged trade roads could threaten entire harvests.
But war had never carved itself into the land quite like this. Every stone marked a life that had belonged to someone beyond the uniform: a friend, a child, a parent, a beloved.
Aurelian looked toward Seraphina.
She had continued ahead several paces before slowing, apparently realizing he had stopped.
Behind her stretched the white field filled with men and women who had once served beneath her family’s banner. He wondered how many names she knew, and how often she carried them with her.
A quiet feeling swelled in Aurelian’s chest.
Pride.
Not for the deaths.
Never that.
For the woman who carried the responsibility of making certain sacrifices like these were not forgotten.
He urged Celly forward.
Seraphina did not ask why he had stopped.
Perhaps she already knew.
A short distance later, she turned from the main road and guided Liam onto a narrower path climbing a gentle hill.
Aurelian followed.
At the top, a large complex gradually came into view.
Like nearly everything else in Vaelmont, the main structures had been built from dark stone, with thick walls designed to withstand the northern cold. Long windows stretched across several sections, their glass clouded faintly from the warmth trapped within.
Unlike the quieter roads they had just passed, the winter gardens were busy.
Workers moved constantly through the entrances carrying baskets, tools, sacks of soil, and wooden crates. Several guards stood nearby while carts waited along one side of the complex.
Aurelian’s curiosity immediately returned.
The moment they dismounted, a man hurried toward them.
He wore heavy work clothes beneath a thick coat, and dirt marked the knees of his trousers despite the snow outside.
“Your Grace.”
He bowed quickly, worry already written across his face.
“The crops aren’t holding up well.”
Seraphina’s expression sharpened.
“How badly?”
“Worse than yesterday.”
“Show me.”
There was no hesitation.
The gardener turned immediately and led her toward the entrance.
Aurelian handed Celly’s reins to one of the waiting guards.
“Good afternoon.”
The two men looked mildly surprised by the greeting before returning it.
“Good afternoon, my lord.”
Aurelian hurried after Seraphina.
The moment he stepped through the doors, warm, damp air struck his face.
He stopped.
Rows of growing beds stretched through the enormous interior.
For the first time since arriving in Vaelmont, Aurelian saw green.
And almost immediately, he noticed that something was wrong.
“We cannot determine why the cabbages are dying.”
The head gardener crouched beside one of the raised beds and carefully lifted a large outer leaf.
Yellow had begun spreading along its edges.
Several plants nearby looked considerably worse.
“We checked the soil twice,” he continued. “There is no sign of anything that should be causing this.”
Seraphina’s expression tightened.
“Check it again. And find out who supplied the seeds.”
“Someone from the east, Your Grace. I can ask the supplier—”
“Wait.”
Aurelian had already dropped to one knee.
Both of them looked at him.
He removed one glove and pressed his fingers into the dark soil, rubbing a small amount between his fingertips.
It was damp. Unusually so.
He glanced around the greenhouse.
Warm air. Wet soil. Condensation clinging to the glass.
Then his attention returned to the cabbage.
The yellowing was not even across the leaf.
It moved inward from the edges in distinct wedge-shaped patches, narrowing toward the veins.
Aurelian’s brows drew together.
“Oh.”
The head gardener stared at him.
Aurelian immediately began removing his scarf.
Then his coat.
Seraphina watched the growing pile of clothing with increasing suspicion.
“Aurel.”
“I need to dig.”
That was apparently the only explanation he had time to give.
He pushed his sleeves above his wrists and knelt properly beside the cabbage.
Several nearby workers stopped what they were doing.
Aurelian carefully pushed the soil away from the base of the plant.
“I need a knife.”
Someone hurried forward.
“I have a spade, my lord.”
“That will do.”
Aurelian accepted the small gardening spade and worked around the plant until he could expose more of the lower stem without destroying it completely.
He cut carefully into the damaged tissue and inspected the discoloration inside before turning his attention back to the leaf.
“There.”
The head gardener crouched beside him.
“What is it?”
Aurelian held the leaf out.
“Look here. The yellowing begins at the edge and narrows toward the vein. Almost like a wedge.”
The gardener examined it.
Aurelian turned the leaf over.
“And the veins are darkening.”
Seraphina stepped closer.
“You know what is causing it?”
“I believe so.”
Aurelian looked across the greenhouse again.
“Black rot.”
The gardener frowned.
“But we checked the soil.”
“That is why you did not find it.”
Aurelian returned his attention to the cabbage.
“It is an infection. The soil itself is not necessarily where it began.”
He pointed toward the damaged leaf.
“The shape of the yellowing and the dark veins are the clearest signs.”
The gardener’s face fell.
“How did it get here?”
“There are several possibilities.”
Now that Aurelian had started, the nervousness that so often accompanied court conversations disappeared entirely.
This was familiar. Plants made sense.
“The seeds may already have been infected when you received them. It can also remain in diseased plant matter if an infected crop was left behind after an earlier planting. Certain weeds can carry it as well.”
His gaze moved toward the edges of the greenhouse.
“Have you had wild mustard growing near here?”
The gardener hesitated.
“Near the eastern wall during autumn.”
“Remove anything that remains.”
Aurelian stood and brushed soil from his hands.
“And inspect every cabbage immediately. Anything showing these same markings needs to be removed.”
“Removed?”
“I would not risk trying to save an infected plant.”
The gardener looked unhappily across the rows.
There were dozens.
Aurelian understood the expression.
Losing a crop was painful enough in Bellafonte, where another planting season was never far away.
Here, surrounded by snow, it meant considerably more.
“I am sorry.”
The gardener exhaled.
“What about the beds?”
“Clear away every trace of the diseased plants. Do not allow infected leaves or roots to remain and decay here, and clean every tool that touches them before using it on another bed.”
Aurelian gestured toward the rows.
“If possible, I would avoid planting cabbage, mustard, turnips, or related crops in the affected beds for several years.”
“A few years?”
“If infected plant material remains, the disease can survive long enough to cause the same problem again.”
Aurelian looked upward toward the glass.
“And you need to reduce the moisture.”
The gardener followed his gaze.
“The greenhouse must remain warm.”
“Warm is not the problem by itself. Warm and constantly wet is.”
Aurelian walked between two of the rows.
“How do you water them?”
“From above.”
“That should stop.”
The gardener blinked.
Aurelian pointed toward the leaves.
“Water splashing from one plant to another can carry the infection with it. Water closer to the roots instead. And increase the air moving through here if you can do so without lowering the temperature too drastically.”
Seraphina had said nothing for some time.
Aurelian barely noticed.
He was already studying another cabbage.
“This one is beginning to show it as well.”
The head gardener hurried over.
“You can tell already?”
“The edge.”
Aurelian pointed.
A small yellow patch had begun forming along the outer portion of the leaf.
“It is easier to recognize once you know what you are looking for.”
The gardener glanced between Aurelian and the plant, clearly bewildered.
“My lord... how do you know all of this?”
Aurelian blinked.
The question seemed to genuinely surprise him.
“We grow cabbage in Bellafonte.”
Seraphina’s mouth twitched.
He noticed that nearly all the gathered workers were staring at him.
“Oh.”
He straightened awkwardly.
“Quite a lot of cabbage, actually.”
One of the gardeners muffled a laugh.
Aurelian cleared his throat and returned to the matter at hand.
“You should also speak to the merchant who supplied the seeds. Ask whether anyone else who purchased from the same shipment has reported similar problems. If the infection came with the seeds, other farms may already have it.”
Seraphina’s expression sharpened immediately.
“And if they have?”
“Then they need to know before they plant more.”
Aurelian looked at her.
“If those seeds were distributed throughout Vaelmont, this may not be limited to this greenhouse.”
Silence followed.
Seraphina turned toward the head gardener.
“Find the supplier.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And determine where else that shipment was distributed.”
“At once.”
The gardener hurried away.
Aurelian watched him go before looking regretfully across the rows of cabbage.
“They may lose quite a bit of this crop.”
“But not all of it.”
He turned.
Seraphina was watching him.
Aurelian nodded slowly.
“Not if they act quickly.”
Her eyes dropped toward his bare hands, now covered in soil.
Then toward his coat, gloves, and scarf, which had been abandoned in an untidy pile several feet away.
“Aurel.”
“Yes?”
“Put your clothes back on.”
Aurelian looked down at himself.
He had forgotten that he was standing in a northern greenhouse with his sleeves rolled above his elbows.
“Oh.”
A faint flush returned to his cheeks.
“Right.”
He wiped the soil from his hands before hurriedly pulling his layers back on.
By the time he managed to fasten his coat and slip his gloves over his fingers, Seraphina had already begun directing the gardeners.
“Start with the western rows,” she instructed. “Separate anything showing the same symptoms. Do not use the tools elsewhere until they have been cleaned.”
Several gardeners nodded and immediately set to work.
Aurelian approached her while loosely winding his scarf around his neck.
He had barely finished when another voice stopped him.
“My lord?”
Aurelian turned.
One of the older gardeners stood a short distance away, twisting his hat nervously between both hands.
“Yes?”
“If I may ask a favor…”
“Of course.”
The man hesitated.
“Would you take a look at our food storage?”
Aurelian blinked.
“Our preservation rooms,” the gardener clarified. “If there are problems with the crops that we have overlooked, I am beginning to wonder whether we may have overlooked something there as well.”
Aurelian glanced toward Seraphina.
She met his eyes and gave a small nod.
“Lead the way,” he said.
The gardener visibly brightened.
“This way, my lord.”
He hurried toward the rear of the greenhouse, and Aurelian followed without hesitation.
A short while later, another guard approached.
“Your Grace.”
Seraphina turned.
“Yes?”
“The caretaker responsible for the medicinal gardens heard that the lord identified the problem with the cabbages.”
Seraphina waited.
The guard cleared his throat.
“He would like to know whether the baron might spare a moment to look at several of their plants as well.”
Seraphina glanced toward the corridor where Aurelian had disappeared.
“Ask him when he finishes with the storage rooms.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Their visit lasted considerably longer than either of them had intended.
Aurelian inspected the food stores first.
The rooms themselves were cold and carefully organized, with shelves of preserved vegetables, dried herbs, root crops, grain, and barrels of salted goods arranged according to use.
Aurelian walked slowly through them, asking how frequently the rooms were checked, whether moisture ever gathered along the walls, and how quickly spoiled produce was removed.
He crouched beside several crates of potatoes and examined the ventilation beneath them.
“These should not sit directly against the wall,” he suggested. “If moisture gathers behind the crates, you may not notice until the rot has already spread.”
The older gardener immediately called for two workers to move them.
Aurelian looked mildly alarmed by how quickly everyone obeyed him.
“I only meant—”
“We understand, my lord.”
“Oh.”
From there, he was taken to the medicinal gardens.
The caretaker was an older man with stained fingertips who immediately began asking Aurelian questions about southern herbs.
Aurelian, in return, asked nearly twice as many.
Which plants survived naturally outdoors? What illnesses were most common in winter? Which herbs became difficult to obtain when the mountain roads were impassable, and were enough dried in autumn to last until spring?
The answers gradually changed his expression.
He became quieter, more thoughtful.
“When one of the northern villages needs supplies,” Aurelian eventually asked, “how are they delivered?”
“Usually by wagon,” the caretaker answered. “Weather permitting.”
“And when it does not permit?”
“Sleds, sometimes. Military escorts if the roads are dangerous.”
“How long can a village go without receiving another shipment?”
“That depends on the village.”
Aurelian frowned.
“Are there storage depots between here and the more isolated settlements?”
“A few.”
“Only a few?”
The caretaker shook his head.
Aurelian looked toward Seraphina.
“How far apart are the villages?”
She answered him.
Then he asked about the roads: which routes remained passable deepest into winter, which mountain passages closed first, and how frequently supply wagons were delayed. The answers only gave him more questions.
By the time they finally left the medicinal garden, Aurelian had somehow acquired a small notebook from one of the caretakers and was writing observations as they walked.
“You have been here less than a day.”
Aurelian looked up.
Seraphina was watching him.
“Yes?”
“And half my gardeners are already attempting to keep you.”
Aurelian blinked.
Then he laughed softly.
“I hope that is not a complaint.”
“No.”
Her answer came quickly.
Aurelian’s smile lingered.
He glanced down at the notes filling the page in his hand.
“I was thinking about the villages.”
“I noticed.”
“If some of them are regularly cut off during winter, it might be worth establishing more supply depots along the routes that remain passable longest. Bellafonte merchants already travel great distances with grain and preserved goods. Perhaps some of them could come north before the worst weather begins.”
Seraphina said nothing.
Encouraged by her silence, Aurelian continued.
“And some of our medicinal plants might grow beneath glass here. Not everything, certainly, but I could speak with our growers. There are varieties accustomed to a great deal of heat, though perhaps with enough experimentation—”
He stopped.
Seraphina was still staring at him.
Aurelian lowered the notebook slightly.
“Am I getting ahead of myself?”
“No.”
Something in her expression had softened.
“You are trying to solve problems that are not yours.”
Aurelian’s brows drew together.
“But they are yours.”
The words left him before he had properly considered them.
Seraphina went very still.
Aurelian realized what he had said.
His ears immediately turned pink.
“I only meant—because this is your territory, and if we are—”
He gestured vaguely between them.
“—then naturally I would want to help if I could.”
Seraphina continued watching him.
Aurelian’s embarrassment deepened.
“I am explaining this poorly.”
“You are not.”
Her voice was quieter than before.
Aurelian looked at her.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Seraphina glanced toward the notebook in his hand.
“Continue.”
Aurelian smiled.
He did.
By the time they returned to their horses, the notebook was full of possibilities he wanted to explore. For once, he was almost sorry to leave the gardens.
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
By the time they returned to the fortress, twilight had settled over Vaelmont.
The last traces of daylight clung faintly to the horizon, painting the snow in muted shades of blue and gray as Aurelian and Seraphina passed once more through the heavy gates.
Dinner had already been prepared.
Aurelian realized this the moment they entered the dining room and saw the table waiting for them.
“I apologize,” he said as he removed his gloves. “I did not mean to keep everyone waiting so long.”
Seraphina took her seat.
“You were helping.”
“Yes, but—”
“Eat, Aurel.”
His mouth closed.
Seraphina gestured toward his chair.
“You have been outside most of the day.”
Aurelian surrendered.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Dinner passed in comfortable quiet.
The meal was hearty and warm, clearly suited to the northern climate. Roasted meat, root vegetables, dark bread still warm from the ovens, and a thick stew filled the table.
Aurelian found himself studying the seasoning after his first few bites.
“What is this?”
Seraphina glanced toward him.
“The stew?”
“The spice.”
He tasted it again.
“It is familiar, but I cannot place it.”
Seraphina told him.
Aurelian brightened.
“We grow something similar in Bellafonte.”
Their conversation wandered from northern spices to the harvests in Bellafonte. Seraphina asked him about a few of the dishes he missed, and Aurelian, pleased by her interest, described them until he realized he had been speaking far more than eating.
She listened with an expression he was beginning to recognize: quiet, attentive, and just a little amused.
When dinner finally ended, a butler approached and bowed.
“My lord, if you are ready, I will escort you to your chambers.”
Aurelian pushed his chair back.
“Thank you.”
“I will take him.”
The butler froze.
Aurelian looked toward Seraphina.
The servant stared at her for a fraction too long before quickly correcting himself.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
He bowed again.
“Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening.”
The man departed with considerably more haste than seemed necessary.
Aurelian watched him go.
“Was something wrong?”
“No.”
Seraphina rose.
“Come.”
Aurelian followed.
Neither of them acknowledged the servants gathering discreetly near the dining-room entrance as the duchess personally escorted her fiancé deeper into the fortress.
Aurelian did not notice them. Seraphina almost certainly did, but she gave no sign of caring.
They climbed one staircase and continued through several long corridors.
The fortress had grown quieter now that evening had settled over it.
Torches burned along the stone walls. Their footsteps echoed softly against the floor.
Eventually, Seraphina stopped before a black door.
At first glance, it looked almost identical to every other door Aurelian had passed that day.
Seraphina rested one hand against the door frame.
“These are yours.”
Aurelian blinked.
“My chambers?”
She nodded.
He reached for the handle and slowly pushed the door open.
Then stopped.
Warmth greeted him immediately, and not merely from the fire burning across the room. The chamber itself felt inviting in a way he had not expected.
Aurelian stepped inside.
His eyes widened.
Nearly everything he had seen within the Vaelmont fortress had been composed of dark colors.
Black stone.
Deep blue.
Silver.
Onyx.
Cold, immaculate elegance that suited Seraphina and the northern landscape around her perfectly.
This room was different.
Cream-colored rugs softened the dark floor.
Deep red blankets had been folded across the bed.
Warm orange cushions rested within a small sitting area near the fireplace. Heavy curtains in muted shades of burgundy framed the windows.
They were still refined enough to belong within Vaelmont.
But the colors—
They reminded him of Bellafonte.
Sunlight.
Red earth.
Autumn fruit.
The warmth of his family’s home.
Aurelian slowly stepped farther inside.
“These are…”
His voice trailed away.
Something on the small table near the fireplace caught his attention.
A tea service.
He approached.
The faint floral scent reached him before he even lifted the lid.
Chamomile.
Aurelian stared.
He had mentioned chamomile in one of his letters.
Only briefly.
He had written that he preferred it in the evening whenever he had difficulty settling his thoughts before bed.
Aurelian looked toward Seraphina.
She remained near the doorway.
His attention shifted again.
Books lined the shelves beside the fireplace.
He walked toward them.
His fingers brushed over the spines.
Poetry.
Agricultural studies.
Several histories.
Two novels he had once told Seraphina he loved enough to reread.
One of his favorite collections of essays.
And beside them were unfamiliar books he had never seen before.
Aurelian pulled one free and examined it.
A Study of Alpine Medicinal Flora.
His eyes widened slightly.
Another concerned greenhouse cultivation in severe climates.
Another examined northern trade roads and winter transportation.
He stared at the books.
The shelves held things he loved, and things she thought he might find useful here.
His gaze moved slowly across the chamber.
A writing desk stood near the window.
Someone had stocked it with fresh paper, ink, and several new quills.
There was a comfortable chair positioned near the fire.
Extra blankets had been folded neatly at the foot of the bed.
Even the little details seemed intended to make him feel at home.
Aurelian swallowed.
No servant could have chosen all of this at random. It was too specific, too personal.
He turned.
“Sera.”
She looked at him.
“You did this.”
It was not a question.
Seraphina hesitated only briefly.
“I instructed them.”
Aurelian looked back toward the shelves.
“The books?”
“Yes.”
“The tea?”
“Yes.”
His fingers tightened slightly around the book he still held.
“And the colors?”
Another pause.
“I thought you might be more comfortable with something familiar.”
Aurelian stared at her.
For weeks, he had filled his letters with the ordinary details of his days, never imagining she would tuck them away and remember them. Yet here they were, scattered through a room made ready for him.
More than remembered.
She had prepared for him.
Not because etiquette demanded it.
Not because he was a visiting nobleman who required comfortable accommodations.
Because he was Aurelian.
Something inside his chest tightened.
It was nothing like the strange discomfort he had felt when she mentioned her vice general.
This was warm. Almost overwhelming.
“You did not have to do all of this.”
“I know.”
Her answer came immediately, and somehow that made his throat tighten further.
Aurelian looked down.
His cheeks were growing warm again.
“Thank you.”
Seraphina’s expression softened.
“You are welcome.”
A gentle silence settled between them.
Aurelian eventually returned the book to the shelf.
Seraphina stepped back toward the corridor.
“You should rest. We will continue tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
She paused.
“Good night, Aurel.”
Aurelian smiled.
“Good night, Your Grace.”
The door closed quietly behind her.
For several moments, Aurelian remained exactly where he was.
Then he slowly crossed the room toward the window.
He pulled one curtain aside.
Vaelmont stretched beneath him.
The town glowed faintly in the distance, warm windows scattered among dark buildings. Beyond it, white fields disappeared toward the hills beneath the deepening evening sky.
Farther still were villages he had not seen.
Roads that became difficult to travel in winter.
Soldiers guarding borders he barely understood.
Greenhouses fighting against the cold.
Families depending upon careful preparation to survive until spring.
Seraphina’s world.
Until today, that was all it had been.
Her world.
The north had existed in Aurelian’s mind as something distant and severe: snow, fortresses, soldiers, and a territory ruled by the woman he had somehow agreed to marry.
Now he could picture the people within it.
Alan forgetting to button his coat.
Larissa dragging a drunken troublemaker toward the holding cells.
Mildred and Reginald cleaning broken chairs from their floor.
Children running beside his horse because they had never seen hair quite like his.
Gardeners worrying over their crops.
Villages waiting for winter supplies.
Gravestones beneath the snow.
And Seraphina remembering all of them.
Aurelian rested one hand against the cold glass.
He had spent the afternoon making plans for a place that was not yet his to call home. It should have felt presumptuous. Instead, when he remembered the faces of the gardeners and the children, he found himself hoping those plans might be of use.
He had not intended to think so far ahead. He had simply begun doing it.
Behind him, the fire cracked softly. The scent of chamomile drifted from the table, and his favorite books waited on the shelves.
Aurelian looked once more across the snow-covered land.
It was nothing like Bellafonte.
There were no endless sunflower fields.
No warm southern wind.
No red roads beneath a blazing sun.
And yet, standing there in a room Seraphina had quietly prepared for him, the north no longer felt quite as distant as it had that morning.
Aurelian wondered, for the first time, whether one day this place might become something more than Seraphina’s home.
Perhaps—
if things truly went as she hoped—
it could become another home for him as well.
Chapter discussion