CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We set out in our open carriages from Lafir Castle, riding away from the tourney fields and the temple where we were to be married.
Brennan pointed it out, looking shy as we rode away from the structure.
Tall windows that spanned the height of three levels were lit up by the morning sun.
Paintings colored the glass panes and showed scenes of the golden-haired God Kavrir, holding his sword and shield with the seven-pointed star.
In one, he was fighting the horned Batrir.
Another scene depicted Batrir chasing Orsete, the flames of her wings setting a forest aflame as she tried to escape.
Another showed her appearing in deep conversation with the horned God.
And eventually there was one of Kavrir and Orsete united, and her wings were gone.
A dead chimera was beneath Kavrir’s boot, and blue robins swarmed the couple.
Batrir was sinking into the shadows, his armor appearing black in the light.
We made our first stop just beyond the castle grounds, in the center of a series of villas owned by the nobles, most of whom had spent the last few days with us.
We were invited again to Lord Dovan’s home for a meal.
We made our next stop on the edge of Tavonia, Eskalon’s main city.
There I threw flowers to the citizens who’d come to greet us, and Brennan tossed small bags of grain into the crowd.
We were welcomed warmly, and despite it all, I was actually enjoying myself.
It was just nice being with Brennan, and it was feeling more and more natural every second we were together.
We easily continued all of the talks we’d been having about books, music, art, and even dreams we had for the future of Eskalon.
Dreams I danced around carefully so as not to mention Azeal.
And then, every so often, we shared a look with each other, one that hinted at more, one that reminded us both of how we lost control in the moon garden, how it felt to be alone, to press our bodies together.
A look that hinted at what was to come. And a look that left me wanting, my stomach clenching, and the Azete uncoiling with such fierceness, my heart would race.
But once we entered the city proper, everything changed.
The mood of our caravan felt completely different.
Riding ahead of us was our guard, followed by Olivay’s parents, then us.
Several carriages remained behind us, full of grain and flowers for me and Brennan to continue handing out.
And behind them, there were more caravans with nobles from House Lafir.
Rowan and Kienan were present, along with Finlay, Thomas, and a group of dancers who got out to perform at each stop.
Yet the second we were enclosed within Tavonia, our guard doubled, surrounding our carriage completely.
I’d been under an excessive number of guards since I became Olivay, thanks to the chimera attack, and even more due to the witch-hunt Jaron had sent his men on.
If Tirian hadn’t been so determined to control the narrative of our wedding, to show Brennan was strong and more worthy of being the crown prince, to show this was a grand match between the bride and groom as well as our two countries, I had no doubt this parade would have been canceled.
But he’d sent us into the chimera’s lair anyway. The people in the streets seemed far less interested in welcoming us. My flowers landed on the ground, avoided and untouched. And so did Brennan’s bags of grain.
We still heard plenty of people call out our names, “Crown Prince Jaron,” and “Princess Olivay,” and chants of the words for House Lafir, “From the ashes, we rise, we fly,” but they were becoming less common with each step of our progression.
The morning and afternoon had presented us with citizens more than willing to show their loyalty to us still true.
They held up flags and sigils of the ruling house.
Everywhere we looked, we found flags of red and blue, paintings of blue moonstags before red flames.
There were even several posters showing a blue moonstag and a purple unicorn united for House Kanos.
But we were well into the city when I saw my first flag for House Bathiner mixed in with the Lafir sigils, and there I heard, for the first time in days, a chant of “Undefeated, unburied, we burn.”
My skin went cold as I carefully eyed Brennan.
His jaw muscles tightened, and he took my hand in his, assuring me we were safe.
But his back remained stiff as two members of our guard brandished their blades and rushed out to the crowd, singling out the man who’d shouted House Bathiner’s words to us.
As we reached the city center, the obvious support for rebellion grew in both intensity and boldness.
Another man was arrested, and then another, until it seemed we couldn’t move an inch without hearing screams of House Bathiner’s motto.
When we had stopped at the next street corner, a man who'd climbed to the roof of an apartment building, unfurled a piece of parchment that rolled all the way down to the street.
Someone had painted a blue moonstag lying dead beneath the hoof of a red chimera.
It was just like the painting of Kavrir and the chimera at the temple, but the metaphor was clear.
The defeat of House Lafir.
Upon the conception, there will be an end to House Lafir as they know it. Never to rise again.
I looked back at the line of carriages riding behind us. Lord Brandon was casually watching the chaos unfold. I had no warm feelings about House Lafir, not beyond Brennan, but surely, surely their defeat wasn’t also leading to the rise of a far more dangerous tyrant, House Bathiner. Jaron.
Our guards rushed to the building at once, their blue cloaks flying behind their backs, steel blades glinting in the late day sun. A torch was lit, and the parchment began to burn as people screamed and ran.
Brennan put his head in his hands and groaned.
I rubbed the nape of his neck, unable to stop myself from offering physical comfort. He looked up at me with tired eyes. “It shouldn’t be this way,” he said. “Being beaten and arrested just because they disagree. They should be allowed to voice their opinions.”
“They should,” I said. “Everyone deserves that freedom.” And more.
I gazed at the distance, beyond the buildings, beyond where the farms lay on the horizon.
The green of Kalder Forest grew past that, the forest where I’d saved Brennan’s life.
And where the Hermit had brought me to Azeal, to the country that had never been free, that was forced to hide behind a wall.
Brennan nodded and squeezed my hand. “We’ll be out of this soon. You’ll be safe. And you can relax.” His green eyes were full of worry, though.
“You can relax, too,” I said.
His throat bobbed, but he took a deep breath and sat up straight, his chin held high. It might have looked like he was uncaring to the common eye, but I thought he was being brave.
The caravan was rushed along, and it became apparent that more and more people were in support of House Bathiner than I could have imagined.
Brennan threw out a bag of grain. It landed on the ground with a loud thud.
A man eyed it suspiciously from the shadows of the buildings looming over him, and slowly he moved toward the bag to pick it up.
I felt almost a sense of hope, for him, for Brennan, until he chucked it back at our carriage.
The bag exploded against the carriage door.
The man stepped forward then, all the way into the light.
He was dressed in red and gray for House Bathiner. He screamed, “Fuck your charity!”
His words felt like some kind of unspoken signal. Within seconds, at least another dozen men called out the same thing.
Another man yelled, “A bag of grain, oh, let me kiss Your Highness’s ass! Maybe if your father’s fucking policies didn’t starve us, we wouldn’t need your Godsdamned wheat!”
“No!” The next man who stepped forward yelled. He shoved down his pants and bent over. “You kiss my ass!”
We weren’t allowed to hand out flowers or grain at the next stop, and after that we skipped stopping at any of the planned rest places altogether.
Our only breaks were for the groomers to tend to the horses.
Brennan was pale when we reached the city edge and entered the district of Batron, Geoffrey’s old stomping grounds. Mine, too.
Our guard began to close in on us, their blades drawn outward, and in the distance, as the sun was beginning to set, the sky smoldering in shades of burnt red, pink, and orange, violence began.
Fights broke out in the alleyways as we traveled past, mobs formed on the street corners, and then dozens and dozens of citizens were being beaten and arrested.
Their screams and cries pierced the air.
It was like the second night of the tourney all over again, but this felt worse.
We were rushed then to the king’s house, where another set of guards were waiting.
Brennan and I were surrounded by knights.
Blue cloaks and steel blades flashed around every corner as we were ushered inside.
Abigail came to my room with me, helping me out of my dress, blue to make me look united with my betrothed’s house.
She looked strangely uncomfortable with me the entire time.
Still annoyed with me for how I’d treated her that morning, that was obvious.
But there was something else, an emotion brewing beneath the surface that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
It wasn’t directed at me, and yet … I felt a pit in my stomach as I tasted it.
It was strong, powerful. And not anything I could feed from.