Chapter Forty-Five: The Distance
The fox did not like Edwin.
Ariyana noticed it the first time he entered the chamber. The creature—she had named her Ember, for the color of her fur and the fire in her eyes—lifted her head from the pillow, her golden eyes fixed on the door. Her hackles rose. A low growl rumbled in her throat.
"Ember," Ariyana said quietly. "Hush."
The fox did not hush.
Edwin stopped in the doorway, his glacial eyes moving from Ariyana to the fox to the space between them. He had not visited her chambers since the night of Lily's wedding. Had not spoken to her beyond the necessary civilities of the dinner table. Had not touched her.
"Your Highness." Ariyana rose from the window seat, her hands clasped before her. She wore a simple gown of grey wool—practical, unadorned, nothing like the silks and velvets of her former station. Her hair was still short, falling past her shoulders in soft waves, and her face was pale but composed. "I did not expect you."
"It is my chamber as well." His voice was flat. "Or have you forgotten?"
"I have forgotten nothing, Your Highness."
The title cut like a blade.
Edwin flinched—barely, just a tightening of his jaw, a flicker in his eyes. But Ariyana saw it. She saw everything now. She had spent years learning to read people, to anticipate their moves, to protect herself from their cruelty.
She was no longer afraid.
She was no longer hopeful.
She was simply... present.
"Ember does not like you," she said, gesturing to the fox. "Perhaps you should keep your distance."
"Ember?"
"I named her." Ariyana walked to the bed, scooping the fox into her arms. Ember curled against her chest, still growling, her golden eyes never leaving Edwin's face. "She found my pendant in the forest. She kept it safe. She waited for me."
Edwin's jaw tightened. "You brought a wild animal into the palace."
"She is not wild. She is mine." Ariyana stroked the fox's fur, soothing her. "She follows me everywhere. Like a child with her mother."
"Ariyana—"
"She does not harm anyone. She simply... does not like you." Ariyana looked up, her olive-green eyes steady. "Perhaps she senses something the rest of us missed."
---
The Night
Edwin stayed.
He did not ask permission. Did not announce his intent. He simply walked to the bed, sat on the edge, and began to remove his boots.
Ariyana watched him, Ember still in her arms.
"You are sleeping here tonight?"
"We share a chamber. We share a bed." He set his boots aside, his movements stiff, mechanical. "That was the arrangement."
"The arrangement changed when you stopped trusting me."
His hands paused on the laces of his shirt.
"Did it?" she continued. "Or did you simply stop pretending?"
"Ariyana—"
"Do not." Her voice was soft but firm. "Do not say my name like that. Like you still care."
He looked at her—at the woman who had once threatened to stab him, who had argued with him in corridors and fought him on hills and made him feel more alive than anyone ever had.
She was different now.
Not broken. Not cold. Just... distant. As if she had built a wall between them that he could not climb.
"I am not here to fight," he said.
"No." She set Ember on the bed, the fox curling at the foot of the mattress. "You are here to sleep. To fulfill your duties. To pretend that everything is normal."
"Is that what you want?"
"It is what I expect."
---
The Change
She climbed into bed, keeping to her side, her back to him. The shift she wore was simple—white linen, high-necked, long-sleeved. Armor, still. But a different kind of armor.
Edwin lay down beside her, keeping his distance.
The silence was heavy, suffocating.
"You used to threaten to stab me," he said.
"People change."
"You used to argue with me. Roast me. Call me insufferable."
"I was a fool."
"You were fierce." His voice cracked. "You were alive."
"I am still alive." She did not turn. "I am just not... performing."
"Performing?"
"Fighting. Arguing. Caring." Her voice was flat. "Those things require energy I no longer have."
Edwin stared at her back—at the curve of her spine, the fall of her short hair, the way her shoulders rose and fell with each steady breath.
"I miss you," he said.
She did not answer.
---
The Morning
She woke before dawn, as she always did.
Edwin was still asleep, his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. He looked younger in sleep. Softer. Almost like the boy he must have been before the weight of the crown and the cruelty of his stepmother had carved him into something cold and hard.
Ariyana watched him for a long moment.
Then she rose, dressed in silence, and left the chamber.
Ember followed at her heels, the fox's paws silent on the stone floor.
---
The Duties
She performed her duties with mechanical precision.
Breakfast with the family—she sat at Edwin's side, ate sparingly, spoke when spoken to. Her answers were polite, brief, devoid of the sharp wit that had once made Edwin's heart race.
She managed the household accounts, reviewed the menus, oversaw the servants. She was efficient. Competent. Unremarkable.
She did not visit the villages.
She did not attend council meetings.
She did not offer opinions on matters of state.
She was a good wife.
A proper wife.
A wife who had nowhere to go, even if her husband brought other women into their bed.
---
The Afternoon
Edwin found her in the library.
She was reading—a book of poetry, old and worn, its pages yellowed with age. Ember slept on the window seat beside her, her red fur bright against the dark wood.
"Ariyana."
She looked up. "Your Highness."
He flinched again. She noticed.
"I have been thinking," he said, walking toward her. "About what happened. About Theodore. About—"
"About the night you did not believe me?" She closed the book, setting it aside. "About the judgment you did not defend me? About the concubines you are now permitted to take?"
"I have not taken any concubines."
"You will." Her voice was calm. "The kingdom needs heirs. I understand."
"Ariyana—"
"You can touch me if you want." She rose from the window seat, Ember stirring beside her. "I will not mind it."
Edwin's face went pale. "What?"
"You are my husband. I am your wife. You have needs." Her voice was steady, devoid of emotion. "I will not deny you."
"Ariyana—"
"I will not fight you. I will not threaten to stab you. I will not make this difficult." She walked toward him, stopping a few feet away. "I am a good wife. I will be a good wife. You do not have to trust me. You do not have to hold me. You do not have to tolerate my rude behavior."
"Ariyana, stop."
"You do not have to keep your distance from your legal wife." She met his eyes—her olive-green gaze steady, empty. "I understand what you mean. And I have decided to give you an heir soon. Is that not a great idea? You wanted it."
---
The Torture
Edwin stared at her.
She was saying everything so easily. So calmly. As if she were discussing the weather, or the menu, or the proper way to polish silver.
She did not care about his feelings.
She did not care about anything.
She simply saw him as a man—a husband—someone she had to handle and pleasure whenever he wanted, whether she wanted it or not.
"Ariyana." His voice was hoarse. "I will not touch you."
"Why?" She tilted her head, her expression curious. "Do you feel disgusted by me? Because I betrayed you? Because I slept with Theodore?"
"You did not sleep with Theodore."
"How do you know? You did not believe me." Her voice was flat. "You can check if I am still pure, if you want. If I am not, you can strip me of my wife's position too. I will leave. I will not complain."
"Ariyana—"
"Are you planning to bring a new bride?" She smiled—a thin, cold smile that did not reach her eyes. "I will not mind that either. You want heirs from a pure woman? I will not mind. I will not complain. I swear."
Edwin's hands curled into fists.
"I do not want a new bride."
"Then what do you want?"
"You." His voice cracked. "I want you. The way you were before. The way you fought me and argued with me and threatened to stab me. The way you looked at me as if I were not a prince, not a future king, but a man."
"That woman is dead."
"She is standing in front of me."
"She is a ghost." Ariyana stepped closer, close enough to see the pulse beating in his throat. "You killed her, Edwin. On the night of Lily's wedding. When you looked at me as if I were a stranger. When you believed the worst. When you did not defend me."
His face went white.
"I would have fought for you," she continued, her voice rising. "I would have stood beside you against Clara, against the court, against the entire kingdom. I would have loved you—truly loved you—with all my broken, frightened heart."
She shook her head.
"But you did not believe in me. You did not trust me. And when the judgment came, you sat in that chamber and said nothing while they stripped me of everything."
---
The Demand
She turned away, walking to the window.
"If you want to fix everything," she said, her voice quiet now, "go back to that night. Believe me. Hold me. Tell me that you trust me."
"Ariyana—"
"Or go back to the judgment. Stand in that chamber and defend me. Look at the court and say, 'My wife is innocent. I believe her.'"
She turned to face him, her olive-green eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Can you do that, Edwin? Can you go back? Can you undo what you did?"
He was silent.
"I cannot." She shook her head. "If you cannot either, then do not apologize. I do not want your sorry."
She walked toward the door.
"Ariyana, wait—"
She paused, her hand on the latch.
"I will be a good wife," she said, not turning. "I will share your bed. I will bear your children. I will manage your household and give you no cause for scandal."
Her voice dropped.
"But I will not love you. I will not trust you. I will not let you hurt me again."
She opened the door.
"And if you bring other women into our bed—if you take concubines, as the King has permitted—I will not complain. I will not weep. I will simply... endure."
She left.
The door closed behind her.
---
The Fox
Ember sat in the doorway, her golden eyes fixed on Edwin.
She did not growl. Did not bare her teeth. She simply sat, her red fur bright against the dark wood, and watched him.
Edwin stared back.
"You hate me too," he said quietly. "Do you not?"
The fox tilted her head.
"You are right to hate me." He sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "I destroyed her. I destroyed us."
The fox rose, padded across the room, and jumped onto the bed. She sat beside him, not touching, but close.
"What do you want?" Edwin asked. "Comfort? Reassurance? Forgiveness?"
The fox yawned.
"I have none of those things." He looked at the door where Ariyana had disappeared. "I have nothing."
The fox curled into a ball and closed her eyes.
Edwin sat alone in the silent chamber, his wife's words echoing in his skull.
I will not love you.
I will not trust you.
I will not let you hurt me again.
He had won.
He had kept her.
She was his wife, bound to him by law and oath, and she would never leave.
But she would never love him either.
And that—that was worse than any punishment the court could have devised.
---
The Corridor
Ariyana walked through the corridors, her footsteps echoing on the stone.
She did not know where she was going. Did not care. She simply walked—past the guards, past the servants, past the courtiers who stared and whispered and judged.
She was done.
Done pretending. Done hoping. Done caring.
She would be a good wife.
She would do her duty.
She would give him heirs.
But she would not love him.
She would not trust him.
She would not let him hurt her again.
She pressed her hand against her chest, against the pendant hidden beneath her dress.
"I am still here," she whispered. "I am still breathing. I am still alive."
The pendant was warm against her skin.
"That is enough."
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