Chapter 12 – Shadows Between Us

Violet

The sun bathed the clearing in a soft golden hue, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had forgotten its troubles. The air was crisp but pleasant, carrying the scent of pine and something warm — like honeyed tea. I sat on the wooden steps of the old cabin, wrapped in a wool blanket that smelled faintly of herbs and smoke. In front of me, Draven sat on an overturned crate, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sharpened his blade.

"Are you always this quiet?" I asked, taking a sip from the metal cup he had given me earlier.

"Only when someone else is doing all the talking."

I let out a small laugh. "Then I suppose I'll take that as a compliment."

It had been a day and a half since the fall. My ankle, though still sore, was better thanks to his constant care. We had spent the afternoon in easy conversation — the kind that surprises you with how comforting it is. I learned that he preferred the silence of forests to the noise of cities. That he carved little wooden figures when he couldn’t sleep. That he hated the color red — not because it reminded him of blood, but because his brother used to paint his room with it just to annoy him.

I told him about the fields behind the palace, about the time I tried to bake bread over a campfire and ended up setting my own braid on fire. We laughed. Real, deep laughter that made our sides ache. There was something disarming about him when he wasn’t wrapped in shadows. Something human.

But the enchantment was not to last.

That night, lying beneath layers of blankets beside the hearth, dreams clawed at my sleep. It started gently — a memory, my mother’s voice singing an old lullaby as she brushed my hair. Her face glowing in the candlelight, her hands warm.

Then came the shift.

The cabin around us darkened. Her voice faltered. A sudden gust of wind blew the window open, and in the doorway stood a figure with a sword in hand.

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Draven.

I screamed in the dream as the blade came down.

I awoke with a choked sob, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding like a war drum. The room was dim, the fire nearly out. Draven was kneeling beside me, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Violet? Are you alright?"

"Don’t touch me!" I backed away, eyes wide. My hand clutched the edge of the blanket like a shield.

He froze. "What happened? Was it a nightmare?"

I couldn’t speak. The vision clung to me like smoke. I looked at him, and all I could see was that blade. My mother’s final breath. My chest ached with fear.

"Please... just stay away from me," I whispered.

Something darkened in his eyes. Pain? Confusion? He rose slowly, walked over to the small table, and set down a bucket of warm water with a cloth and a cup of tea. Without a word, he grabbed his cloak and walked out.

He didn’t slam the door. He didn’t argue. He just left.

I couldn’t sleep again that night.

By morning, the world was covered in frost. I found him outside, sitting on a log near the edge of the forest, his eyes scanning the horizon like a sentinel. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.

I sat beside him in silence for a while.

"Did you fight in the last war between Cardan and Espadaris?" I asked softly.

He didn’t look at me. But after a moment, he nodded.

My hands clenched in my lap. "Did you... kill many people?"

He didn’t answer.

Something twisted inside me. The memory of the dream still haunted me. The image of my mother falling...

"Was it you? Did you kill my mother?"

His head turned sharply, eyes wide. "No. Violet, I swear on all that is sacred."

"Liar!" I stood, the word echoing through the trees. "Don’t lie to me! You said it yourself. You were there! You were in that war!"

"Yes, but I didn’t—"

"And you expect me to believe that? That you, the king’s brother, the general of Espadaris, just happened to not kill the Queen of Cardan while leading armies through our lands?"

He stood too, hands raised in silent plea. "Please. Let me explain—"

"I’m leaving," I declared. "I don’t care if I’m limping. I’ll report what I saw. A soldier of Espadaris hiding near our border. A man who claims not to be our enemy, but might as well be."

His jaw tensed. "I won’t let you go. Not until you hear the truth."

"The truth? You really think I’ll believe anything you say now? You killed her! You killed her and now you’re here, pretending to be someone you’re not!"

He took a step forward. "Violet—"

"Stay away from me!"

He didn’t come any closer. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The forest held its breath.

Then, finally, he whispered:

"You have to listen to me. Your mother... isn’t who you thought she was."