Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Chapter 54

Elara’s POV

“You sure that old cart can handle another passenger?”

Finnian shot me a look over his shoulder as he secured the last strap on the cargo bed. The wagon was sturdy but plain—built for hauling iron ingots and coal, not ferrying passengers. A canvas tarp covered a pile of finished tools in the back. The horse hitched to the front was stocky and patient, flicking its ears at flies.

“She’s carried heavier,” he said, patting the sideboard. “Climb up.”

I took Finnian’s offered hand and hauled myself onto the bench seat beside him. The wood was worn smooth from use. He gathered the reins, clicked his tongue, and the horse leaned into the harness.

We pulled away and turned off the King’s Highway onto a narrower track that wound upward through the trees. The road—if it could be called that—was little more than two ruts carved into the hillside, flanked by thick undergrowth and towering pines.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The wagon creaked. The wheels crunched over loose stone. Wind moved through the canopy above, carrying the sharp, clean scent of pine resin and cold earth.

I studied the landscape. The terrain was steeper here than anything near the capital. Raw. Unmanicured. The kind of wilderness that didn’t bend to human will.

It felt familiar in a way I couldn’t fully explain. Like a scent you catch on the wind that stops you mid-step. You can’t name it, but your body knows it.

“This path doesn’t see much traffic,” I said.

“That’s the point.” Finnian kept his eyes on the road, guiding the horse around a jutting root. “After what happened, my parents wanted distance. From roads. From strangers. From anything that smelled like the lowlands.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but his grip on the reins tightened.

“Tell me,” I said quietly. “About that day.”

He didn’t answer right away. The wagon rocked over a dip in the trail, and he steadied the horse before speaking.

“We left before dawn.” His voice had changed. Lower. Careful. Like a man walking across thin ice. “My father had a batch of ironwork finished—hinges, horseshoes, a set of fireplace tools he’d been working on for a while. Fine stuff. He wanted to get to the market early, before the other smiths set up.”

A bird called somewhere in the trees. Sharp. Piercing. Then silence.

“My mother packed food for the trip. Bread and dried meat. She was singing.” He paused. Swallowed. “She always sang when she packed. Old songs. The kind our people used to sing in the highlands before—” He stopped himself. Drew a breath. “Before everything.”

I waited.

“The snow had been heavy that season. Roads were bad. My father wanted to push through anyway, but the passes were blocked by the time we reached the market town on the other side of the valley. The merchant there said we should wait. Said another storm was coming.” Finnian’s jaw worked. “So we stayed. Just until the weather cleared.”

The wagon rounded a bend. The trees thinned slightly, and through the gap I caught a glimpse of the valley below—green and vast, with a river snaking through its center. Then the trees closed again.

“We started back at first light,” he continued. “The road was frozen solid. Quiet. Too quiet, but I was young. I didn’t know what quiet meant. Not yet.”

His knuckles had gone white around the reins.

“We smelled it before we saw it. The smoke.” He blinked. Hard. “You know how woodsmoke smells when it’s a hearthfire? Warm. Safe. This wasn’t that. This smelled wrong. Like metal and meat and something else. Something chemical.”

My stomach turned. I kept my hands still in my lap.

“My father stopped the cart on the ridge above the valley. From there you could see the whole duchy—the castle, the village, the outer walls.” Finnian’s voice had gone flat. That same practiced flatness I’d heard before. The recitation of a man who had learned to survive his own memories by draining them of color.

“There was nothing left. The outer walls were broken open like eggshells. The village was ash. The castle—” His breath hitched. Just slightly. “The castle was still burning. Flames so high they touched the clouds. And the smell. That smell was everywhere.”

I closed my eyes.

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