11. Lora
Lora
The next couple of days blurred into an exhausting cycle of steadying Erion’s panic. He clung to my encouragements like a raspkin clutching a branch after falling into a river.
We’d packed our things, ready for travel, but no summons came. The palace hummed along at its usual unhurried pace, indifferent to the urgency coiling in my chest. Moon’s mercy, what was taking so long to prepare for travel?
Erion and I discussed the extended prophecy until the words burned into my skull.
The last two lines implied that someone holding the artifacts beneath an eclipse would speak the truth, whatever that was.
The truth about how to seal the rift, if the Queen was to be believed.
But how could she know that for sure? And how would we find the artifacts when we didn’t even know what they were?
Our discussions always led to dead ends.
When three days had passed since our visit to the Vault of Secrets, a messenger summoned us to the courtyard, advising us to pack and dress for travel.
Finally.
A moon master draped in lavish robes of blue and purple waited in the courtyard. Two servants huddled behind him, bent beneath backpacks so enormous they might as well have been carrying boulders.
The master’s face split into a wide grin as he spotted us. “There he is! The man everyone’s talking about.” He grasped Erion’s shoulders. “I’m Hadrien, your new moon master.”
Erion leaned back, uncertainty etched across his features. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Erion.”
Hadrien didn’t even glance my way as he released Erion’s shoulders. “What an exciting journey we have ahead of us! I’ve never been that far west, have you?”
“Um… I don’t think so.” Erion glanced at me, silently begging for help.
I glared at the master. “Didn’t anyone inform you about Erion’s memory loss?”
Hadrien’s smile faltered for half a heartbeat before returning in full force. “Ah, yes. A temporary inconvenience, I’m sure.”
I stifled a groan by gesturing at the servants. “Is all of that just for you?”
“Of course!” Hadrien beamed. “One needs to be prepared when traveling.”
The servants shifted on their feet, hunched beneath the weight. Granted, we’d travel by boat, but I could already imagine the master insisting his belongings be hauled into every inn we stopped at. These poor fellows would likely have to pack and unpack for him every single day.
Was this why preparations had taken so long? I bristled. This “master” was just another noble reaping benefits because of the family he’d been born into, not because he’d earned it.
A group of moon guards marched into the courtyard, polished leather armor gleaming in the morning light.
A woman with copper hair flowing beneath her helmet bowed her head to the moon master. “Master Hadrien. I’m Sergeant Rika. We’re the Dual Wielder’s personal guard, reporting for duty.”
My jaw tightened as I counted ten guards. We might as well scream our departure from the rooftops. I’d imagined we’d avoid drawing too much attention, but subtlety wasn’t the Queen’s forte. Of course she wanted everybody to know about “our new hope”.
We marched out the palace gates and paraded through the city to the river dock. Heads turned as we passed. People nudged each other and pointed. Whispers about “The Dual Wielder” and “Our savior” rippled through the crowd.
Sergeant Rika divided us among four boats. Erion plopped down beside me in one of them, and two guards joined us, one at the stern and one at the prow. The vessel rocked beneath our weight as we settled in.
A boat with four guards led the way. Our boat followed, with the moon master and his servants behind us, and four guards bringing up the rear. The guards took turns using moon magic to propel us upstream.
We exited the city through a wide stone archway on a different river from the one we’d arrived on. Despite its name, only three rivers passed through Six River City, though six great gates marked where they entered and left the city.
Birdsong wove between the trees, a welcome respite after the constant clatter of the busy streets.
“You know,” I murmured, “after a week inside those marbled halls, I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the wilderness can be.”
Erion shifted beside me, his thigh brushing mine. His warmth seeped through the fabric, stirring a tingle across my skin.
“It sure is.” Dreaminess softened his voice.
I glanced back at him. He wasn’t looking at the countryside. Those hazel eyes fixed on me, tender with something that made my pulse stutter.
He eased closer, and the scent of him—flowery soap with something earthy beneath—cut through the river’s dampness. His gaze dropped to my braid, and he reached up, slowly tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. My breath snagged in my throat as his fingertips brushed against my cheek.
When he looked at me like that—like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world—something ugly stirred deep inside.
Something urging me to surrender to that ache in my core, the restless need for closeness that always itched beneath my skin.
But it was more than that. More than just a longing for physical touch.
Somewhere deep down, I yearned for something that lasted longer than one night.
I snapped my gaze back to the riverside, silently scolding myself for even entertaining such thoughts. Mother had given her life for me. I couldn’t waste her sacrifice chasing mundane feelings.
Joy was a luxury, love a distraction.
Shifting my leg away from his, I cleared my throat. “You should practice your water wielding.”
I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I couldn’t indulge whatever hopes he was beginning to harbor about me. He was my responsibility. My mission. Getting tangled up in messy feelings would only lead somewhere I could never allow myself to go.
Disappointment flickered across his features as he eased back, giving me space.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to crowd you.”
Unease twisted in my gut. Silt and rot, how I hated myself for damping his spirit.
But if I drowned in hazel eyes and gentle touches, I’d never succeed in ensuring no one else lost their mother the way I’d lost mine.
While Erion moved his hands above the water on his side of the boat, I focused on the riverbank sliding past. On the shifting current. On anything except the warmth still lingering where his leg had pressed against mine.
I glanced over my shoulder and sighed at the city’s walls and towers, still visible in the distance.
This was going to be a very long journey.