Chapter 32 Seren
Chapter thirty-two
Seren
The Kingdom of Acsilla was like nothing I had ever seen.
As the tired winter sun sank toward the horizon, the streets became awash in golden lantern light that sparkled impossibly bright.
Mágikal orbs of pinks and greens and purples floated above our heads.
The heavily trodden cobblestone had an almost indescribable implication of community.
I could see the lives of the people who lived here reflected in every detail around me.
I reached, stretching my arm high above me. My fingertips just barely brushed the orb closest to me. The mágik felt cold and hot against my skin—a paradoxical sensation. It lasted only a moment before the orb twisted away, floating on an unseen path.
It reminded me of the Tünécris mágik of the forest spring. It brought back memories of my own mágik, glowing brilliant silver. Not simply control over water, but over the tides themselves. My power akin to the celestial bodies we worshipped.
We rounded another bend, our bodies close. His hip brushed mine with every step. The back of his hand skimmed my fingers with every breath.
Banners and lights and music filled my sight, the street before us alive with color and mágik.
Booths lined the rough worn cobblestone, sizzling meats and sweet-smelling crepes luring me as my stomach rumbled—greedy.
Vendors hawked their wares, hoping to entice the milling citizens to purchase from their stands.
“Harkin, please! I’m starved.” I looked hopefully to Harkin, who acquiesced without argument. The last time we had properly eaten was the day prior, in the cottage we had shared.
He pulled a coin pouch from his pocket, sifting through and dropping them into my outstretched hand. The coins were warm from his body, and they settled in my palm like fruit, ripe for the harvest. “Choose whatever you like.”
I considered the fare around us, options aplenty. Sweet and savory flavors called to the hollow of my stomach. I decided not to choose at all and purchased everything that caught my eye.
Hearty fish stew—a childhood favorite of mine—burst across my tongue in a comfort of familiar flavors. Charred lamb on skewers was rich and earthy, satisfying in its greasiness. Tender beef goulash melted in my mouth, and I hummed in appreciation. “Oh Goddesses, you have to try this.”
We passed the dishes back and forth, sharing our finds with an ease and comfort that surprised me. I supposed it shouldn’t, since we had regularly taken our meals together, but I expected to feel differently given the events of the last day.
“I’m stuffed. You can’t convince me to try another bite,” Harkin groaned, hand resting over his belly.
The sweet smell of sugar and fruit wafted toward us. Pastries in every flavor beckoned me closer, and I turned to Harkin with a smile. “Maybe just one more?”
He laughed, and the sound was sweeter than any dessert.
The crowd had grown thick, citizens of Acsilla pouring into the streets to celebrate the festival over a delicious dinner and to admire the colorful bursts of mágik which lit up the ever darkening sky.
I took hold of Harkin’s arm so we would not get separated, fingers curving around the swell of his bicep.
I pulled him toward the baker's booth with purpose.
I looked up at him, barely catching the odd look on his face as he gazed at me.
He quickly schooled his features, turning his eyes toward the pastries with feigned consideration.
Coins were traded for sweet cheese and apple strudels.
As the flavor of the first bite washed over my senses, my eyes drifted shut, and I sighed happily.
Our country might be at war—murder on the minds of many—and mágik a tremulous thing I had only just grasped, but a sweet treat such as this would never fail to make me feel like everything might be alright.
I held the pastry out to Harkin, and he tasted it straight from my hand. His lips brushed my sugar-sticky fingers, and my smile vanished. My breath caught.
The noise Harkin made as he sank his teeth into flaky dough and spiced apple was utterly indecent. I bit my lip to keep from doing something stupid like pulling him closer.
I took a moment to consider what it might be like, to live like this always. If we succeeded in halting Claudian’s plan, I could live my life here among the circling streets and bustling community. I could have sweet pastries and true smiles as often as I liked.
I could be happy.
We strode silently as we polished off our strudels, quiet in our considerations. We turned onto lonely streets as the heart of the festival drew further away.
Fresh, cold air was unbearably pleasant. I was relieved to leave the crush of so many bodies behind, but I remained wary. We were more exposed now than we had been. My eyes darted nervously as we traveled closer to the palace.
I followed Harkin through the wind of cobblestone streets.
The layout was confusing and bordering on redundant—pathways crisscrossing and looping upon themselves.
I tried not to think too hard about the strangeness of it.
It seemed perfectly normal that a mágikal kingdom would be filled with such oddities.
The sun settled beyond the horizon, the purple black of night sweeping over the expansive sky.
Lanterns were fewer and further between as we reached the incongruity of this in between space.
The bustling festival was far behind us, but we had not yet reached the rising grandeur of the palace.
Pubs and shops lined the street, but many doors were shuttered, their proprietors likely joining in on the fun of the festival night.
A prickling lingered at the back of my neck, the feeling of eyes upon me. I had long since let go of Harkin’s arm, but I reached for his hand now, squeezing hard to alert him. Harkin turned to face me, glancing behind us from the corner of his eye.
“Goddesses, damn it,” he swore quietly and increased our pace, still gripping my hand tightly in his own.
We turned a corner to the left, followed the street for a few dozen paces, then dipped to the right. Our steps were harried and far too loud in the quiet dusk.
Armored soldiers trailed behind. Their sword hands grasped the hilts of their weapons, the other raised as if preparing to strike with mágik.
I met Harkin’s eyes, and we burst into a sprint. Footsteps echoed through the street, ringing as our shadows took pursuit.
“Don’t stop!” Harkin urged.
Cobblestone blurred beneath my feet as we sped away, panting into the darkness. Harkin led me in a confusing path ducking through alleys and doubling back on streets I was positive we had already walked upon.
“Harkin, we have to fight them!”
The soldiers remained staunchly behind us, their pace quickening in turn. I was unnerved at the silence in their steps. There was not a single creak in their full-suited armor.
“No, we can still lose them.”
Breathlessly, Harkin pulled me along. When we turned the next corner, he wrenched a door open and ushered me inside. We spilled into a pub, heavily patronized despite the quietness of the others we had passed.
“Take off your cloak,” Harkin ordered.
I shed the fabric without question, and he stowed it behind a potted plant near the window. He returned to me, gripping my arm firmly as he directed us to a darkened corner at the back of the room.
Harkin positioned me against the wall. He faced me, his body blocking any view our pursuers might have had of me if they had followed us inside.
Door hinges squealed. How I heard it over the raucousness of the revelers, I did not know. I peeked my head around Harkin’s shoulder and saw the soldiers, milling through the pub in search of us.
Harkin swore again, reading the truth in my eyes. He pressed closer, our bodies nearly touching. “We cannot get caught.” There seemed to be a question in his warm brown eyes, a consideration as he pondered his next move.
I nodded, slowly.
“Do you trust me?” His voice was a breath I could hardly hear over the rush of blood in my ears.
Yes, my heart cried.
“No,” I forced myself to say. The words tasted wrong in my mouth, bitter and sharp.
Hurt flashed across his face, but it passed so quickly, I wondered if it had really been there at all.
“Trust me,” he said, no longer a question.
I did not answer aloud, but Harkin must have read the answer in my face. That longing within me to say yes, to say please, to say I would trust you for the rest of my life if I thought you could keep my heart safe.
Harkin’s flesh melded to mine, pressing me firmly into the wall. My head tipped back instinctually, heat rushing through my body as his lips crushed to mine without hesitation.
His hands tangled in my hair, still unbound—still waiting for him to plait it once more. His fingers twined and tugged, pulling deliciously at my scalp as his tongue dipped past my lips. He tasted like sugared apples and cream from the dessert we had shared.
I sighed into his mouth, a sound like relief, and he groaned, one hand moving to grasp at my waist. Harkin pulled me impossibly closer, every hard line of his body pressed to mine. Harkin’s thigh pressed between my legs, and I could feel his desire, as I knew he must feel mine.
I reached for him, hands tangling in the rough-spun fabric of his tunic. I wished it away, pushing my fingers beneath it to skim across the bare skin of his stomach. A growl of frustration and wanting rumbled in his throat as he devoured my lips with his own.
The hand in my hair pulled sharply, tilting my head to the side as he moved to bite and suck at the exposed skin of my neck. I gasped, body arching toward him as we searched for friction. My fingernails dug into the smooth skin of his hips as I clutched him tighter—half moons imprinted on flesh.
Harkin’s breath was hot on my neck, fanning across my collarbones in a way that made me ache deliciously. He ground against me as his fingers slipped beneath my tunic, roving across my stomach and ribs, and finally, grazing my breasts.
“Harkin…” His name was a gasp from my mouth. A tumble of other words followed, sounding as if from someone else. Please and don’t stop and Goddesses.
“I want you so badly.” The words were gruff and rumbled.
We were surely about to undress each other, to finish this thing that we had started when whistles and jeers reached our ears.
The patrons of the pub had taken note of our fevered kisses, and shouts of amusement filled the room.
I had all but forgotten we were even in a pub, in front of dozens of witnesses, on the run from Acsillan soldiers.
I pulled back, my face ablaze with embarrassment and flushed with wanting.
Harkin’s pupils were blown wide as his eyes bored into mine—from the dim lighting and from the desire which he had hardly bridled. He seemed to realize his hands still held me and pulled back, looking away and murmuring what sounded like, “Goddesses, help me.”
His gaze swept the room once more. “They’re gone.”
The soldiers. He had kissed me to avoid detection by the soldiers. But was that all it had been?
It had certainly felt like more, and I no longer knew if I trusted myself around Harkin.
He looked at me again, an inscrutable expression on his face. His eyes caught on my mouth, swollen with the persistence of his kiss. His chest rose with a deep, heaving breath.
“Let's go.”