Chapter 12 – Separate Chambers
The door closed without a sound.
Elowen stood frozen just inside the threshold, her fingers still curled in the fabric of her skirts as if she were bracing for a blow that never came. The chamber she'd been led into was not small nothing in Blackspire ever was but it felt cavernous in its silence.
A bed stood near the far wall, draped in dark linen and heavy furs. A fire burned low in the hearth. Candles flickered softly, casting warm light against stone walls etched with protective sigils. There was no sign of chains. No locks on the inside. No bars on the windows.
No cage.
Her breath came out in a shaky exhale she hadn't realized she was holding.
She had expected… something else.
Everyone said a woman married to the Warlord of Blackspire did not survive the first night unchanged. Some whispered blood. Others spoke of screams swallowed by the fortress walls. Elowen had prepared herself for pain, for endurance, for silence.
Instead, she had been escorted here by a quiet maid who bowed deeply and said, "If you need anything, my lady, pull the cord. His Grace has ordered your comfort be attended to at all times."
My lady.
The words still didn't feel real.
Elowen crossed the room slowly, touching the edge of the bed as if it might vanish beneath her fingers. The sheets were soft softer than anything she had ever slept on. At House Ashmere, she had rested on straw pallets even after she'd been old enough to work from dawn until her bones ached.
A bitter, confused laugh slipped from her lips.
Why?
Why give her this?
She changed slowly, carefully folding the dress she'd worn for the wedding fine silk she still felt unworthy to touch and slipped into the nightgown laid out for her. It was simple, but well made. Clean. Unstained.
She sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
For footsteps.
For the door to open.
For fate to remember her.
Minutes passed. Then more.
The silence stretched until it became unbearable.
Finally, exhaustion crept into her limbs. Elowen lay down, curling slightly on her side, staring at the shadows dancing along the ceiling. Every sound the crackle of the fire, the distant wind against the fortress walls made her flinch.
But no one came.
Sleep took her in fragments, thin and uneasy.
Kael Draven did not sleep.
He stood in his own chamber, armor discarded piece by piece until only his black shirt and trousers remained, his massive frame tense as stone. The void within him stirred restlessly, reacting to something it had not felt in years.
Her.
The bond of marriage was not magic. Not truly. And yet… something about Elowen Ashmere tugged at him in a way spells and seals never had.
She had not looked at him with desire.
She had not looked at him with ambition.
She had looked at him as a wounded animal watched a storm braced, fearful, but strangely honest.
Kael pressed a hand to the stone wall, fingers digging in as shadows curled faintly around his wrist. He exhaled slowly, forcing the void back into submission.
He could take her.
No law forbade it. No vow restrained him. The world already believed him a monster what was one more truth layered atop the myth?
And yet the thought made something sharp twist in his chest.
She had been sold.
He had seen the marks on her wrists when the priest joined their hands. Old bruises. Healed scars. Signs of a life spent being handled without kindness.
Kael had sworn long ago that no one under his rule would be touched without consent.
That vow would not break for his wife.
He turned away from the wall and moved toward the door.
Elowen woke with a gasp.
The fire had burned low, embers glowing faintly in the hearth. For a moment, panic seized her she didn't know where she was, or what hour it was, or whether she had dreamed the entire day.
Then she sensed it.
A presence.
The door was still closed. But the air felt… heavier. Warmer. As if something powerful stood just beyond the stone.
Her heart pounded as she pushed herself upright.
A knock sounded.
Once. Controlled. Polite.
"Elowen."
Her name, spoken in his voice, sent a shiver down her spine. Not fear not entirely. Something else. Awareness.
"Yes?" Her voice came out soft, uncertain.
"I'm coming in," he said. Not a command. A warning.
She swallowed and nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Alright."
The door opened.
Kael stepped inside, filling the chamber with his presence. Without armor, he looked… different. Still terrifying in his size and strength, but more human. Shadows clung faintly to him, like a living cloak, but his expression was controlled.
Careful.
His gaze flicked over her quickly not lingering, not appraising before he bowed his head.
"I wanted to ensure you were comfortable," he said.
Elowen blinked. "You… didn't have to."
"I did," he replied simply.
Silence fell between them, thick and awkward.
She clutched the blanket to her chest, suddenly hyper aware of the thin fabric of her nightgown. Her pulse skittered beneath her skin.
Kael noticed. Of course he did.
His jaw tightened, and he took a step back, increasing the distance between them rather than closing it.
"I will not touch you unless you ask," he said. "Not tonight. Not ever."
Her breath caught.
"Why?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Kael's eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. "Because you were not given a choice when you were brought here. I will not take another from you."
Something in her chest cracked.
No one had ever said that to her.
"I… don't know how to be a wife," she admitted quietly.
His expression softened just slightly. Enough that she noticed.
"Then we will learn separately," he said. "If you wish."
She hesitated. "You're… sleeping elsewhere?"
"Yes."
A strange pang twisted in her chest confusion layered over relief.
Kael turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Elowen."
She looked up.
"If anyone in this fortress mistreats you," he said, voice dropping into something cold and dangerous, "tell me."
She nodded.
The door closed behind him.
Elowen lay back against the pillows, heart racing not from fear, but from something dangerously close to hope.
Days passed.
And Kael kept his word.
They ate meals together always at opposite ends of the table at first. He never reached for her. Never raised his voice. When she spoke, he listened as if her words carried weight.
When servants bowed to her, she flinched.
When Kael noticed, he corrected them gently. "She is my wife. Not a ghost."
Slowly, something inside her loosened.
On the seventh night, a storm rolled over Blackspire, thunder rattling the stone walls. Elowen woke shaking, breath shallow, memories clawing at her mind.
Before she could stop herself, she pulled the cord.
Kael arrived almost instantly.
He stood in the doorway, eyes sharp with concern. "You called."
"I i " Her voice broke. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to "
He crossed the room in two strides and stopped beside the bed. "You don't need to apologize."
The thunder boomed again, and she flinched.
Kael hesitated, then asked quietly, "May I sit?"
She nodded.
He sat at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her. His presence was grounding solid, unyielding. The storm outside seemed to quiet in response.
"Do you want me to stay?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
He stayed.
They did not touch.
But for the first time in her life, Elowen slept without fear.