Cold stone and fresh air was about all the cell had to offer. Which, unfortunately, meant Ren was left shivering in his Winter robes, unable to do much about his situation. His whole world, in only a matter of moments, had been ripped from him. His place, his position, his family, his purpose…
The back of his right hand ached slightly, not enough to be painful, but enough to tug at the muscles in his hand, which twitched as it attached to invisible strings. Shivering, he curled into a fetal position.
One moment bled into the next. Minutes and hours felt like the same thing, the world itself imposing in on him, the chill of the stone slowly etching itself into his very being. Melodrama wasn't the way of the Winter household, and such complaints would fall on deaf ears had Ren attempted to speak about such emotional distress to his father. Ren knew his family cared, of course, but to be the heir of the Arbiter meant that he should act with as much cold reason as the stones beneath him, stale and rigid.
Opening his eyes, he noticed that at some point a small bucket of water had been pushed into his cell, barely enough to look into. Just enough to drink from. He gazed down at it, his dark hair, which had once been swept back, longer than his father's, but still shorter than many of the artisans and scholars, he frowned. Violet eyes stared back at him, Winter's eyes. They had the same his father had and his grandfather before him. An angular face, all lines and sharp ridges. The only place where his mother's influence even seemed to be was the roundness around his eyes, a certain softness that his father's face never had. Sighing, he picked up the bucket with pale, trembling hands, and took a sip.
The water went down his throat with cold clarity and a bitter taste– It tasted like it'd been sitting in a swamp months ago, boiled, then left to sit in a room that had never cooled properly. In other words, it tasted like mud, dirt, and wood had somehow all been filtered through the nastiest fish Ren could imagine.
Coughing, he set down the bucket, staring at it with a hopelessness he'd never before felt. Then, it twisted, turning into boiling rage at his uselessness, and he roared, swatting at the wooden tool. It slammed against the wall a moment later, water spilling across the floor. He stood, not satisfied, and kicked the bucket again. 'Pathetic.'
He was going to die, and he didn't even know why. Nobody who could be taken seriously would be willing to believe that he'd killed his own twin. Slamming his bare fist against the stone, he hissed out an angry breath. 'Why? Why?'
Clicking locks shocked him from his stupor, and the whining of iron hinges forced him to turn to meet an intruder in his private space. Stepping back, he sneered. "Who is it?"
Lilliana Winter stepped in with her signature poise that somehow softened the hardest people around them, the backs of her hands glowing gently as the stone around them glowed. "You look angry, Ren."
Ren backed down immediately, his hostility melting away like butter on warm bread. "Mother…"
Lilliana Winter was a regal woman. Nobility among nobility, but ruthless in her own right. Much like her husband, Jeremiah. Her eyes, soft, warm, were a deep cerulean, as if someone had plucked an overcast sky to decorate them. Unlike the lines that defined Ren and Jeremiah, Lilliana was a woman of lithe, gentle curves, and a smile that could make even the most noble of men wilt. "...I am sorry."
A weight settled in his shoulders, and Ren slumped back against the wall, facing his mother. "...No. I am. I left her."
Stepping over the puddle of grotesque water, Lilliana smoothed her robes, and sat beside her son. "We shouldn't have let you two into the market today."
Eyes snapping to his mother's profile, Ren balked. "You blame yourself?"
The barest semblance of a smile tugged on Lilliana's lips, "Your father and I both."
Silence settled between them like a boulder, and Ren shifted uncomfortably. "...Then… Do you believe me? That I'm innocent?"
"Yes." There wasn't any hesitation in her voice. No, it instead trembled with conviction and rage that Ren had hardly seen. "I believe that House Riverward is responsible."
Ren's shoulders tensed immediately. House Winter and House Riverward had been rivals for years. Spanning far further back than even Ren's great-grandfather. It took several moments, but Ren couldn't bring himself to understand. "Why?"
For a moment, Lilliana hesitated. "You're familiar with the Winter Clause?"
"The legal one? In the Statutes of Law?" Ren muttered, eyes going wide. "You mean…"
"With one problem, they can claim your father is incapable of playing the role of the Arbiter, and, because you are the accused, and our only heir…" Lilliana trailed off, but Ren didn't need more explanation. She sighed, then wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders. "There's nothing we can do. Not really. But… We'll get you out. Somehow. But you will have to run. Run and never return."
That boiling rage filled his chest once again. The back of his hand itched. "I can't leave you, or my duties. My Mark only needs time–"
"We don't have time, Ren," Lilliana snapped, pulling away to press her hands against her son's shoulders. "The Arbiter House is falling." Her eyes had filled with tears, cheeks flush from the heartache. "I'm sorry, my son." And then, she pulled him in for a hug, whispering, voice trembling from a thousand different emotions that Ren could only guess. "We will find someone to take you in. By tomorrow morning, you will be outside of the Grand City, leaving far, far away."
"Where to?" Ren whispered, hesitant arms growing firm as he pulled his mother into a hug as tight as he dared, "And who?"
"The caravan. They're leaving tonight. I've… sent a petition to their leaders." She gently pried herself away from Ren once again, eyes somber with the weight of the end. Then she paused, closing her eyes. Her palms flashed gently, pulsing in a way that felt… Incomplete. Like she was communicating with someone far away.
Ren's eyes widened at the sight. "The… Binding Mark?"
Opening her eyes again, Lilliana smiled, then held a finger to her lips. "A secret between your father and I." Then, her smile hesitated, and fell. "The Senate has already decided upon your death. Your father… Is trying to plead for you as we speak." She turned her head, standing. "Guards will be here for you. You must use your training to get away."
"But, mother, they're of the First Mark–!"
"Not the soldiers of House Riverward." Lilliana sighed. "At least, not the ones they'd be willing to spare on you. Get your rest. Once they come for you, you must break away and run for the caravan with all that you have."
Slowly, Ren nodded. "Yes, mother. I understand."
She smiled softly, then pulled him into a hug once again, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Farewell, my son."
When she pulled away, her eyes had filled with tears. "I'm sorry."
"I'll… I'll be back. I'll make sure you're all okay." But, for some reason, Ren knew. Knew that he'd never see them again.
Hot, angry tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and he turned away. "I promise. I'll see you again."
Lilliana took her son's hand. "I'll see you again," She whispered, as if trying to convince herself it was true. "Under the Lilac Sky."
Ren nodded. "Under the Lilac Sky."
Squeezing Ren's hand for a last time, Lilliana stood and walked out of the chamber.
Staring at the door, Ren leaned back against the wall. And still, peace wasn't afforded him. Instead, it creaked open once again.
And another girl walked in.