Chapter 3: The Arrival at Kael's Estate
The journey to Kael Vyren's estate was grueling, marked by long hours of silence and the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels on uneven roads. Amara sat stiffly across from her new husband, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes fixed on the countryside blurring past the window. She avoided looking at Kael, though she could feel his presence like a storm cloud looming over her.
Kael, on the other hand, leaned back against the carriage wall, arms crossed, his expression impassive. His armor had been exchanged for a dark tunic and riding boots, but the air of authority clung to him as tightly as the sword strapped to his hip. He studied Amara for a moment, noting the rigid line of her shoulders and the way her lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn't spoken more than a few polite words since their departure from the capital, and he hadn't pressed her.
Why should he? This was not a marriage built on companionship. She was a duty, a tool, a means to an end. He reminded himself of that every time he caught a glimpse of vulnerability in her downcast eyes.
The estate came into view as the sun began to set, its silhouette stark against the fading light. Unlike the grandeur of the Rosendell manor, Kael's home was modest and practical, a reflection of its owner. The main house was a large stone structure with ivy crawling up its walls, surrounded by fields and training grounds. Soldiers moved briskly, their armor glinting in the dying sunlight, and the air was filled with the sounds of clanging metal and barking orders.
Amara's heart sank as the carriage pulled up to the front steps. This was her new home? She had known, of course, that Kael was no nobleman, that his estate would lack the opulence she was accustomed to. But seeing it now, the stark, utilitarian atmosphere chilled her. There was no warmth here, no beauty. Just stone and steel.
The door of the carriage opened, and Kael stepped out first, offering a hand to help her down. She hesitated, her pride warring with her sense of decorum, but finally accepted. His hand was calloused, his grip firm as he steadied her. She withdrew her hand as soon as her feet touched the ground, smoothing the folds of her gown.
"Welcome to your new home," Kael said, his tone polite but distant. He gestured toward the house. "Shall we?"
Amara nodded mutely and followed him up the steps, her eyes darting around nervously. Soldiers and servants paused in their tasks to watch them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and skepticism. She caught snippets of their murmurs, their whispers cutting into her like shards of ice.
"She's so fragile-looking. Is she really Lady Vyren now?"
"Doesn't seem like she'll last long here."
Kael ignored the stares, his strides purposeful as he led Amara into the house. The interior was as unadorned as the exterior, with bare stone walls and simple wooden furniture. The air smelled faintly of smoke and iron.
"Norman," Kael called, and a tall, wiry man appeared from a side corridor. He had sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor, his dark eyes assessing Amara with a glance.
"My lord," Norman said, inclining his head. "And Lady Vyren."
The title sounded strange, foreign, as though it didn't belong to her. Amara forced a polite smile and murmured a greeting.
"Show her to her chambers," Kael instructed, his tone clipped. "She'll need time to settle in."
Norman nodded. "Of course. This way, my lady."
Amara hesitated, glancing at Kael. He was already turning away, his focus shifting to a soldier who had approached with a report. She bit back a sigh and followed Norman down the dimly lit corridor.
---
Her room was larger than she'd expected but sparsely furnished: a bed, a wardrobe, a small desk. The only decoration was a single tapestry on the far wall, depicting a battle scene. The window overlooked the training grounds, where soldiers continued their drills even as twilight fell.
Celia, a young maid with sharp blue eyes and a smirk that seemed permanently etched on her lips, entered with a basin of water and a towel. "Lady Vyren," she said, setting the items on the desk. "I'll be your maid while you're here."
Amara nodded, unsure how to respond. She sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her skirts. Celia tilted her head, studying her.
"You don't seem like the type for this place," Celia said bluntly.
Amara blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No offense, my lady. Just an observation." Celia shrugged. "This estate's more about swords and grit than silks and manners. But I suppose you'll adapt. You'll have to."
Amara felt a flush of irritation but held her tongue. "Thank you, Celia. I'll call for you if I need anything."
Celia nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Alone, Amara allowed herself to sag against the bedpost, exhaustion washing over her. The whispers, the cold stares, the unfamiliar surroundings—it was all too much. She felt a pang of longing for her old home, even with all its faults. At least there, she had known her place.
Kael's Study
Kael sat in his study, a glass of wine untouched on the desk before him. Reports from the day's drills and estate matters lay spread out, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought of Amara, of the way she had looked as she stepped out of the carriage, her eyes darting nervously, her back straight with stubborn pride. She didn't belong here, not really. But she would have to endure it, just as he had endured everything that had been forced upon him.
Norman entered, clearing his throat. "She's settled in, my lord."
Kael nodded. "And?"
Norman hesitated. "She seems... overwhelmed. But not fragile."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Fragile?"
The steward shrugged. "There's steel under that softness. I can see it. She might surprise you."
Kael leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We'll see."
---
That night, as Amara lay awake in her cold, unfamiliar bed, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts racing. She had been thrust into a world she didn't understand, bound to a man she barely knew. But one thing was certain: she couldn't let this place break her.
In his study, Kael stared out the window at the moonlit training grounds, his expression unreadable. This was just the beginning, he told himself. He had plans to set in motion, alliances to forge, battles to win. And yet, a small part of him couldn't stop wondering about the woman now sleeping under his roof. Would she prove to be a strength or a weakness?
Neither of them had the answers. Not yet. But the first steps of their journey had been taken, and there was no turning back.