Chapter 7
Theron
Theron had been born anew in the flames of desperation that had engulfed him.
He would not have thought it out of the realm of possibility if his aunt told him Passion was punishing him for treating Her gift without care.
The days Aurora teetered on the precipice of life and death had seared themselves into his memory, tormenting him whenever he dared to close his eyes.
He could not undergo such a trial without being altered.
As yet another day of travel was coming to a close, Aurora rested against him in his saddle.
That she allowed his touch now that her health had recovered was a marvel.
That he’d almost sent her to a pyre in a shroud of Death’s deep red haunted him.
His magic knew every inch of her by now, his heart unable to settle unless he knew hers beat strong and steady.
He knew by the colour of her lips alone how she fared, for he had seen them flush in her pique and turn blue when Death thought to take her from him.
Her warm breath on his chest was the only badge of honour he craved.
For there was no greater gift than getting to see her open her eyes every morning.
Whatever Fate and Passion had done to his thread and hers, he was well and truly entrapped.
It frightened him. Angered him. He had never much liked the idea of being trifled with, nor controlled by forces outside his influence.
For some, it was a comfort to know that their fate had been spun by the goddess, that all was as it was meant to be.
Not for Theron. As the past days had shown him, he could not abide the thought of losing the woman fated for him.
Aurora shifted against him, sighing as she closed her eyes and pressed her head to his chest, lifting her hand to place it where his heart beat loudest. Theron swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t notice that his pulse had sped up.
Warmth spread from where she touched him.
This peace between them felt tenuous. The thought of shattering it with word or deed consumed him.
So instead, they rode in a silence that was, for the first time, companionable.
Theron needed to speak with Myrina again.
As much as he’d balked at following her advice, she’d spoken true.
He’d apologised, and Aurora had opened up to him.
He’d been careful to set aside his anger when it served no purpose.
But where did he go from here? When he gifted her the heads of Batea’s serpents, what then?
Would she apologise for doubting him? Would that be enough to put the hurt in the past?
His heart felt bruised, and he was sorely in need of some reassurances.
Because what he knew with absolute certainty was that he couldn’t be the person he needed to be if his bond with Aurora was severed—through death or further betrayal or some other calamity.
She was his weakness now, for good or ill.
It was simply a blessing she hadn’t yet discovered it before he could fully trust her again.
“I’ll be seeing Myrina this evening for a few hours. Will you be alright alone?” he asked.
“Yes. And Theron?”
“Hmm?”
“I would like to ride my own loper tomorrow.”
Anxiety lanced his heart. He’d told her she was not his prisoner, and yet he didn’t want to let go of this closeness so soon.
She’d only been well for a day. He wanted to ask her to reconsider, to beg for a few more days to set his heart at ease, but that would give her more leverage than he could afford.
Just because he couldn’t live without her didn’t mean he wanted to give her the means to enslave him.
“As you wish. Will you be riding at my side?”
“Would you like that?” she asked.
Little minx, testing his defences. His grip on the reins tightened. Simple questions like these should have been easy to answer, except nothing about this was simple or easy.
“I would,” he answered honestly.
She blinked up at him in surprise. He frowned.
“There’s no need to act as though I despise your company,” he huffed.
“I just…thought you’d be sick of me.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been taking care of me for days now.”
“And?”
“Well…aren’t you exhausted? Wouldn’t you prefer some space?”
“Would you?”
Was this sudden concern for him her way of getting the distance she craved? Perhaps this peace between them had been a figment of his overtired imagination.
“I…I asked you first.” She turned her head away, not realizing it gave him the perfect view of the tips of her ears as they reddened.
That faint blush made him weak. Made him hope.
He hated it as much as he craved it. And yet in spite of his mixed feelings, that blush was his guiding light.
Passion had ensnared her the same as him.
No matter what had knocked him off balance, no matter how he had been scarred and changed, or whether he fumbled in the dark navigating this strange new place with her, desire guided them back to each other.
“If you sat in my lap the whole way to Altanus, I would not object,” he purred. “And you? Would you object?”
“I just think it might be prudent to get some exercise and stretch my legs,” she muttered, her blush deepening.
“I can think of a few ways to accomplish that.” He smiled, enjoying her discomfort.
“And the simplest is to ride my own loper.” She gave him a serious look.
“If you insist,” he chuckled. “But if you change your mind…”
She bit her lip as if to suppress a grin.
“Beast.”
His heart soared.
“Tease.”
She gasped.
“I’m not!”
“Isn’t that up to your victim to decide?”
“Exactly how are you a victim?” She frowned.
“Aurora,” he growled, pulling her close. “I’ve had you pressed against me all day. I have a great deal of self-control, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t testing it with every flutter of your lashes and wiggle of your pert bottom.”
“You…” She swallowed, her face flaming, and pushed herself away from him.
Perhaps he’d come on too strong, too quickly, but she’d started this flirting all on her own and he would not be denied the chance to show her his interest. Her gaze roamed his face, uncertain until she noticed his lips twitch.
Then she scowled. “Oh! You really are a beast. If I make you so uncomfortable, I’m more than happy to ride elsewhere. ”
Her sour expression wouldn’t do.
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he lied. He wanted to be somewhere he could tempt her into kissing him, touching him with more in mind than simple comfort. “With your pert bottom”—he squeezed her close, eliminating the scant hairsbreadth of space she’d managed to put between them—“in my lap.”
“Oh…” she said, her peridot gaze trapped by his.
Much as he wanted to push this further, he dared not shatter the peace between them. Patience was a virtue with which he had a rocky relationship. But he sensed that if he wanted to win Aurora back, he would need to heed its dictates.
“But you’re right. Your fever is gone and it would be best if you began exercising. Just promise me you won’t overdo it. If you begin to tire by midday or earlier, swear you’ll ride in the palanquin or with me rather than risk falling off your loper.”
“I won’t fall.”
“Aurora,” he warned.
“I promise.” She rolled her eyes and huffed, turning away from him.
“Look me in the eyes when you make a promise to me,” he said, cupping the back of her head. He didn’t know if the look she gave him was shy or rebellious, or somewhere in between. “I will not risk losing you again, no matter if I must battle marauders, Death, or your own stubbornness. Understood?”
“I…” The tense set of her shoulders relaxed as his words sank in. The look in her eye softened and his heart ached. He craved that softness more than he craved her flirtation. She placed her hand over his heart as their gazes met, as if she knew her touch could heal him. “I promise.”
Aurora snuggled back into him, her head and hand resting on his heart, slowly, imperceptibly mending parts of him he’d not known were wounded.
Theron savoured every moment in companionable silence.
He almost wished they could ride through the night, but rather sooner than he would have liked, they made camp for the day.
Theron left her in the care of his attendants with a kiss on the back of her hand and promises to return.
As he walked towards his aunt’s tent, his mind on his wife, a gust of wind swept through the camp, carrying a scrap of parchment that hit him square in the face.
He pushed it off and tossed it aside, when another gust swept it up and tossed it on his cheek.
When he peeled it off, he noticed it had neat writing on it. Curious, he read it.
Your Majesty,
The avatar and his bride would like to meet. Walk due north until you meet the edge of the camp. We will be waiting.
H & E
Bloody, reckless fools. What were they thinking?
Theron crumpled the scrap in his hand and tossed it into the nearest fire.
And how dare they summon a king this way, as if he were some common labourer they’d hired.
Ire rose like a tide inside him. Better get to them quickly and send them on their way before the Viridians caught the princess’ scent and dragged her back to her mother.
Or worse, murdered the avatar for running off with her.
Theron wouldn’t care, but his fairy seemed fond of them.
Theron took his time getting to his destination, careful not to arouse any suspicion. He passed Commander Nireus along the way.
“Your Majesty?”
“Ensure no one gets within a hundred paces of me when I reach the edge of the camp,” he said in a hushed tone.
“As you command.”
When he reached the edge, he waited for the two fools to show themselves.
“Your Majesty.” Hyllus stepped out from behind the thick trunk of the nearest tree. “This way.”
Theron rolled his eyes and marched behind the treeline. Epicasta, covered head to toe in her himation, rounded on him first.