After a while, they finally arrived at Vivienne's carriage, stationed just outside the grand stone checkpoint that marked the edge of Trent's bustling city. The sun had now sunk low on the horizon, casting a brilliant palette of orange, gold, and lavender over the lingering festival crowds. Even as the day waned, the city remained vibrant—alive with flickering lanterns, laughing voices, and music that danced through the cobbled streets like a living memory.
"Let us depart, shall we?" Vivienne said softly, her voice calm yet laced with that familiar, teasing warmth. Without hesitation, she slipped her arm around Lucien's, her grip gentle but possessive.
"Oh, and don't worry about your own carriage and your other belongings," she added, flashing him a knowing smile. "I already got it covered."
Lucien chuckled, eyes drifting toward Vivienne's immaculate white carriage. It stood out starkly against the backdrop of green hills and wildflowers—like a lone snow lily blooming in spring, regal and untouched by dust or time.
"But I do have to ask…?" Lucien said, his brow lifting slightly, a faint twitch playing at the corners of his mouth. "Do you plan to stay wrapped around my arm all evening?"
Vivienne huffed in mock irritation, narrowing her silver eyes in challenge.
"You basically just confessed to me back at the inn," she said with a slight pout. "You should take responsibility, you know?" Then her lips curved into a smug grin. "Or was I just assuming things?"
Lucien laughed, the sound deep and unrestrained, the tension from earlier slipping off his shoulders like rain from steel. With a slight bow, he moved ahead and opened the door of the carriage for her, his hand outstretched with exaggerated chivalry.
"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves now," he replied, his grin matching hers in mischief.
Vivienne rolled her eyes but stepped in, gracefully settling into the plush velvet interior. Lucien followed suit, closing the door behind them with a muted click as the carriage shifted into motion. Outside, the reins snapped with the crisp sound of command, and the horses began their steady march toward Vivienne's estate.
The world beyond the window passed slowly—golden fields kissed by twilight, winding dirt roads lined with swaying trees, and the distant silhouettes of towering mountains cloaked in the deepening hues of dusk. It was a picture of fleeting tranquility.
"You know…" Vivienne murmured, breaking the silence as she turned toward him. Her gaze lingered, curious and softly pressing. "You didn't quite answer my question yet…"
Lucien didn't reply right away. Instead, he reached over and took her hand, his touch deliberate, warm. He locked eyes with her, letting the silence stretch—not out of hesitation, but reverence.
"My situation… is quite messy," he admitted at last, voice low but steady. "But…" He paused, the weight behind the word lingering in the air like smoke. "I promise to give you an answer. Until then…"
Vivienne's smile faltered. It didn't vanish—but there was a shift. A subtle shade of sadness passed through it, like a cloud dimming the edge of sunlight. Disappointed… yet still, hope flickered behind her eyes.
"Then can you at least give me some reassurance, Luce?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable than she usually allowed herself to be.
Lucien sighed gently, releasing her hand as his own rose to brush over her hair with tender finality.
"Just know this, Vivy…" he said, brushing her hair with a care that bordered reverent. "You're my most trusted ally and friend. And nothing else will ever change that."
Nothing.
The word echoed in his mind, firm and absolute.
It's the least I could do…
Vivienne smiled again, this time without words, her body leaning into him as she rested her head against his shoulder. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was filled with shared weight, unspoken promises, and memories that refused to fade.
The carriage continued to rumble along the winding road, its rhythm steady, unwavering. In the distance, Vivienne's estate finally began to come into view—a sprawling manor nestled between gentle hills, its tall spires reaching toward the sky like silent sentinels.
Beyond it stretched Snowkeep, the city her family had ruled for generations—a jewel of icy grandeur, cloaked year-round in snow despite the seasons shifting elsewhere. A land of serene cold, its stillness deceptive, hiding a fierce strength beneath the frost.
And far behind them now, fading into the distance yet never far from Lucien's thoughts—Southfell, his own city. A trade titan of the south, green and golden with fertile lands, pulsing with life and ambition. Unlike the quiet elegance of Snowkeep, Southfell thrived on motion—markets, politics, war councils. It was the heart of Lucien's legacy… and soon, the front line in the war to come.
As the estate drew closer, Vivienne turned toward the window, her expression distant.
"I hope you're ready," she said, voice quiet but laced with significance. Her parents awaited. And with them, a future still uncertain.
Lucien didn't respond at first. His eyes were narrowed slightly, his grin curling slow and dangerous, like a blade half-drawn from its sheath.
The biggest ally he could obtain in the war against Brent sat beside him—alive, warm, and smiling.
"As ready as I'll ever be, Vivy…"
And this time, he meant it.