Chapter 18
Aurora
The problem with travelling was the abysmal lack of readily available literature.
And the fact that without such distractions, Aurora was left with far too much time to think.
Too much time to think about Theron announcing open season on Drakon in front of his court.
Or about how he didn’t even resist offering the Viridians clemency and a chance to join the hunt.
Aurora put aside the scroll she’d been trying to read for the past several hours.
Inside her palanquin, the sun high in the sky and surrounded by royal guards on their lopers, she had the barest measure of privacy.
Only she knew that she’d been trying—and failing—to read the same paragraph all morning.
Had Orithyia been right? Was it the waning influence of Lies which had brought about this change in Theron? Could he truly be salvaged as an ally in the fight against Drakon?
Had the Aurora of her vision forgiven him, become his queen, and ruthlessly used him in the fight against Drakon?
“How many days until we reach the mountains?” she asked the nearest attendant.
“At our current pace, ten days, Your Highness.”
Resentment coiled in her gut. In ten days, she would not only forgive him but irrevocably bind herself to the land of Aureum.
What about Fae? What about her own time?
Had the future version of herself given up on her loved ones?
No, that couldn’t be right. But she could use him.
Take the crown, the power, and then leave him. That she could do.
What did she care if Aureum was left without a queen?
He could simply take another. Though Theron was known as the last king, that wasn’t strictly true.
He was simply the last king of this era in history, or at least, the last one they had any records of.
Aurora knew better than most how spotty their knowledge of the ancient past truly was.
In any case, Aureum would continue without her just fine.
If she killed Drakon, then Theron would get to live a long, lonely, miserable life knowing just how badly he’d fucked things up with her. Maybe he wouldn’t be known as the Last King of Aureum anymore. Maybe he’d even marry that snake, Lady Ino.
Becoming his queen she could account for. She didn’t need to like him to agree to wear a crown and hold a position of power temporarily. But what accounted for the feelings she’d had during the vision? Affection? She’d rather be attacked by another shadow cat.
A shiver rolled down her spine. Its teeth had been so sharp, its attack so quick, the pain hadn’t caught up with her until after her magic had rendered it to bones.
While she was no longer so deep in the pits of despair that she wished for death, she still despised Theron.
If he hadn’t refused to kill Drakon when they’d arrived, she never would have had to experience that.
From behind the gauzy curtains of the palanquin, she glared daggers at Theron’s back, seated on his loper and riding just ahead.
Even if he finally believed her, even if he made an apology worth accepting, there was no returning to the way things had been before.
As she stifled a groan of frustration, the stink of smoke reached her on the breeze.
Then came the distant sound of wailing. Her heart skipped a beat.
Then raced as nausea threatened. Suddenly, she wasn’t safely riding in a palanquin, she was amidst burning tents and bloody, broken bodies.
The screams of the dying and the cries of battle filled her ears.
Smoke filled her nostrils, choking her. She couldn’t breathe.
She had to move. To run. To get to safety.
Aurora shook, forcing her way out of her tiny, suffocating prison as debris slowed her progress, snatching onto her dress, onto her arms, her legs, dragging her down. She fought until she was freed, until she could suck in a breath of clean air, until the only sound she could hear was a heartbeat.
Familiar magic washed over her, coaxing her from that dark corner of her mind.
Sweat soaked her clothes. Breathing ragged and limbs shaky, Aurora slowly came back to herself.
It wasn’t the middle of the night but noon, the sun high in a cloudless sky.
She wasn’t surrounded by the wreckage of a camp and severed limbs.
Instead, she sank her fingers into the dirt beneath her, breathing in the scent of wildflowers that grew tall in the ditch by the road.
There was no screaming here. No battle cries.
Just warm hands cupping her ears, blocking out everything but a deep voice speaking unintelligible words to her in soothing tones.
Aurora closed her eyes and caught her breath.
Safe. She was safe. When her trembling finally ceased, she dared open her eyes, touching her fingers to the hands cupping her ears.
The hands disappeared, bringing back the sounds of distant crying.
This time, they didn’t drag her back to that horrible night. She released a shaky breath.
“Aurora? Do you need to sit for a moment?”
Of course it was Theron. Who else would have a front-row seat to her shame?
Her weakness? Her panic? His brows pinched, golden eyes gentle, and his gaze roamed her face.
She shivered. Triad, but she felt weak. Why had she been transported like that?
It hadn’t even been a vision, though it felt similarly terrifying and real.
“The smoke and cries they…” she stopped herself. What was she thinking, confiding in Theron? No matter how shaken she’d been, he couldn’t be trusted. The last thing she needed was for him to think her more broken than he already did. “No, never mind. I’m fine.”
“The bandit attack?” he asked quietly.
She inhaled sharply. How did he know?
“It happens to many who live through terrible experiences. Something unexpectedly brings the memories back. Take a moment to recover,” he said, his voice free of judgement.
She hadn’t expected understanding—was taken aback by his nonchalance, as if her moment of panic was normal.
It didn’t align with how he’d treated her since their arrival in Aureum—as a liar, a madwoman, a pathetic, deluded little oracle.
But maybe he’d simply changed his tactics.
Instead of pointing out her supposed weakness of mind, he’d decided to show pity.
“What’s happening?”
What was it that had sent her scrambling?
“A funeral. Many in this village have died from the effects of the blight.”
“O-oh.”
So now even a simple funeral was going to send her into a panic? She would laugh if it weren’t so humiliating.
“Can you stand? Take it slowly,” he said as she tried to surge to her feet.
But the second Aurora shot to her full height, she felt faint. Her legs buckled. Theron caught her easily, cradling her head as she groaned. Merciful Triad, let her crawl under a rock and perish. How much more pathetic could she be? She feared the answer was coming.
“Bring me water!” Theron called.
“I’m fine. It’s just a headache,” she moaned, mortified. His magic washed over like a gentle wave, making her gasp. “I never said you could use your magic on me!”
“And I won’t touch your mind without your consent, I’m merely trying to ascertain what you need.”
When he handed her the water, she drank greedily, surprised by how weak her own grip was. Aurora felt like she had when she’d drained her magic entirely. Perhaps she had.
“Your Majesty, if we don’t make haste, we’ll fail to reach the manor by nightfall.”
“Rearrange the guards. Her Highness will ride with me.”
“I never agreed to that,” Aurora retorted.
But the guard was already gone.
“Can you stand?” Theron asked, a challenge in his raised brow.
Aurora gritted her teeth and shoved the water skin at him. She tried to get to her feet, but her thrice-damned legs kept shaking like a newborn foal’s.
“I didn’t think so. And if you can’t even do that, then you don’t have the strength to keep yourself from tumbling out of the palanquin. You were lucky the attendants managed to break your fall.”
She didn’t even remember doing that. Aurora pursed her lips.
“A fall from the palanquin is a lot shorter than from the back of a loper.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ll be keeping my arms around you, isn’t it?”
“Someone else could do that. It doesn’t have to be you.”
“And who here is going to volunteer if not me?”
“Plenty,” she growled.
“Shall we test that?”
“Yes. And when I’m proven correct, you can march in the rear. Far away from me.”
Downwind and through the combined droppings of every pack animal currently trekking towards the mountains. They’d brought an inordinate amount of baggage as far as she could tell.
“Very well. And if I’m right, you have to sit in my saddle from here to Lord Vettias’ manor.”
“I will not!”
“What, scared you might be wrong?”
Aurora rolled her eyes. Childish, petty man. It would be worth it to make him leave her alone, to force a king to march behind the slowest baggage cart. Then she could rub it in his smug, annoying face.
“I hope you enjoy the stench of animal shit, Your Majesty.”
Theron smiled and turned to his people.
“Who here would dare volunteer to replace me as the one to carry Her Highness in their saddle?”
“Of course no one is going to volunteer if you threaten them!” she hissed.
“Oh, was that outside the bounds of the test? Pity. Well, if you’d wanted to put limitations on it, you should have had the presence of mind to say as much.” He smiled as he cradled her in his arms and marched back to his loper.
“You expect me to account for your trickery? When I can’t even stand?!” she asked, brimming with ire.
He placed her on his saddle, and she was forced to grip the pommel. Her muscles had turned to jelly, shaking with the effort not to slide off. In a moment he was with her, pulling her to him, the heat of his chest against her back, cradling her in one arm, his hands on the reins once more.