Instead, she kept her eyes forward, on the carriage that would carry her away from everything she’d ever known.
The morning air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and distant rain.
The Fjord horses stamped and snorted, their breath misting in the air, their long manes flowing like silk in the breeze.
The guards sat tall in their saddles, watching the proceedings with professional detachment, their decorated hair and adorned braids marking them as warriors of the North.
Commander Stormwind opened the carriage door himself and offered his hand to help her inside.
“Watch your step, Lady Ashford.”
Kat took his hand—his grip was strong and warm, callused from years of sword work—and climbed into the carriage.
The interior was well-appointed but practical: cushioned seats covered in dark blue fabric, thick curtains that could be drawn against the cold, and several fur blankets folded neatly in the corner.
Renna climbed in after her, settling onto one of the seats with easy grace.
To Kat’s surprise, Commander Stormwind followed them into the carriage, taking the seat beside Renna and pulling the door closed behind him.
“I’ll ride inside for the first leg of the journey,” he explained, settling back against the cushions.
“Give us a chance to talk, answer any questions you might have about Blackwoods and the North.”
He called out an order in a language Kat didn’t recognize—the old northern tongue, perhaps—and the carriage lurched into motion.
Through the window, Kat could see her family gathered on the steps of the manor.
Her father raised his hand in farewell, his expression one of loving concern.
Her mother stood beside him, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Celeste waved, her face the picture of sisterly devotion.
Marcus simply watched, his expression appropriately solemn.
The perfect family, bidding farewell to their beloved daughter.
Kat watched through the window as Ashford Manor receded into the distance.
The grand facade, the manicured gardens, the life she’d known for twenty years—all of it growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared around a bend in the road.
She waited to feel something.
Sadness.
Regret.
Even fear.
But all she felt was that same strange, hollow relief.
She was leaving.
Finally, after years of wishing and hoping and dreaming, she was leaving.
Even if she was traveling toward an uncertain fate, at least it was away from there.
________________________________________
For the first hour, they traveled in silence.
Renna sat across from Kat, her posture relaxed but alert, her eyes occasionally flicking to the window to check their surroundings.
Commander Stormwind sat beside Renna, his long legs stretched out comfortably, his decorated braids catching the light that filtered through the windows.
The countryside rolled past—familiar fields and forests, the village where Kat had never been, the river that marked the southern boundary of the estate.
Everything looked the same as it always had, but somehow different now that she was seeing it from the other side of the carriage window.
As they traveled north, the landscape began to change.
The gentle, rolling hills of the south gave way to rougher terrain—rockier soil, denser forests, steeper inclines.
The trees were different too: fewer oaks and elms, more pines and firs that stood dark and tall against the sky.
The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow.
Finally, Renna spoke.
“You can remove the veil if you like, my lady,” she said, her tone matter of fact.
“There’s no one here to see but me and the Commander, and we don’t stand on southern ceremony.”
Kat’s hands flew to the veil, but she didn’t pull it back.
“I…
I shouldn’t,” she said quietly.
“My brother said I should keep it on.
Always.
He said—” She swallowed hard.
“He said it’s better if people don’t see.”
“See what?” Renna asked, her tone curious but not unkind.
Kat’s throat tightened.
She’d spent so many years hiding, so many years being told that her hair was shameful, cursed, something to be concealed at all costs.
The thought of revealing it—even here, even to these strangers who seemed kind—made her stomach twist with anxiety.
“My hair,” she whispered.
“It’s…
it’s red.”
There was a moment of silence.
Then Commander Stormwind spoke, his voice gentle.
“Lady Ashford, in the North, red hair is considered a good omen.
To our people, it represents passion, fire, life, and strength—all things we value deeply.
The old pagans believed it was a sign of favor from the fire gods—a blessing, not a curse.
Red hair is rare, even in the North, which makes it all the more prized.
Many of our people admire it greatly.”
Kat looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of mockery or deception.
But his expression was sincere, his dark blue eyes warm with understanding.
“Truly?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“Truly,” Renna confirmed.
“I’ve served in Theron’s household for five years, and I’ve seen several people with red hair.
No one thinks anything of it except that it’s striking and beautiful.
Rare and beautiful.”
Beautiful.
The word felt foreign, impossible.
No one had ever called anything about Kat beautiful.
“But my family said—” Kat began, then stopped.
What did it matter what her family had said?
They’d lied about so many things.
Why not this too?
“Your family isn’t here,” Renna said, echoing her earlier words.
“And their opinions hold no weight in the North.
If you’re more comfortable with the veil on, that’s your choice.
But you don’t have to hide yourself for our sake.
Not now, not ever.”
Kat’s hands shook as she reached up to touch the veil again.
Part of her wanted desperately to remove it, to feel the air on her face, to stop hiding.
But another part—the part that had been beaten down and broken over twenty years—was terrified.
What if they were lying?
What if—
“Take your time, my lady,” Commander Stormwind said gently.
“There’s no rush.
We have many days of travel ahead.
You can remove it when you’re ready, or not at all.
The choice is yours.”
The kindness in his voice—the genuine, patient kindness—made something tight in Kat’s chest loosen slightly.
“I think…” Kat swallowed hard.
“I think I’d like to try.
Just…
just for a moment.
To see.”
“All right,” Renna said simply.
Slowly, carefully, her hands trembling so badly she could barely grip the fabric, Kat reached up and pulled the veil back, letting it fall to her shoulders.
The air felt cool against her face, and she took a shaky breath, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.
She kept her eyes down, unable to look at them, waiting for the disgust, the disappointment, the confirmation that her family had been right all along.
But it didn’t come.
“There,” Renna said, her voice matter of fact.
“That’s better, isn’t it?”
Kat looked up slowly, cautiously, and found both Renna and Commander Stormwind regarding her with the same calm, accepting expressions they’d worn before.
No horror.
No revulsion.
Just…
normalcy.
“Your hair is lovely, Lady Ashford,” Commander Stormwind said.
“The color of autumn leaves.
Theron will be pleased.”
The words should have sounded like flattery, but his tone was so straightforward, so sincere, that Kat found herself believing him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
“I…
thank you.”
Renna nodded once, as though Kat had done something perfectly ordinary.
“Better?”
“Yes,” Kat said, and realized she meant it.
The fear was still there, coiled tight in her chest, but beneath it was something else.
Something that felt almost like relief.
“Yes.
Better.”
They traveled on, the carriage swaying gently over the increasingly rough roads.
Outside, Kat could hear the steady rhythm of hoofbeats, the occasional call of one guard to another, the creak of leather and jingle of harness.
After another stretch of silence, Renna spoke again.
“Have you ever been this far north before, my lady?”
Kat shook her head.
“I never left the estate.”
Something flickered in Renna’s eyes—surprise?
Disapproval?
—but her voice remained neutral.
“Then you’re in for quite a journey.
The North is different from the South in almost every way.
The land, the people, the customs—all of it.”