4. Chapter 4 #2
As we draw closer I stare openly, in awe.
No one looks frightened or hungry here. The air feels different, carrying laughter and joy, which feel like foreign concepts to me.
I can’t recall the last time I laughed— aside from the laugh I shared with Onyx.
These people don’t have the look of desperation and fear that is etched on the faces of my people in Elvora.
My people carry the look of those who are waiting for the world to end.
“How?” The question slips out before I can stop it, because I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what I see.
Onyx follows my gaze, as his brows furrow. “How what?”
I motion toward the village with my outstretched hand. “How is this place as it is? Why is it so different from Elvora?”
“The people here are resilient,” Onyx begins, staring ahead. “They have not let this world harden them.”
“That doesn’t explain how they are surviving,” I say, scrunching my brows in confusion.
I’m momentarily baffled by the fact that their community looks like ours, but feels different even from this distance.
There are no lush, wide fields—no thriving crops, same as in Elvora.
No healthy livestock grazing the fields.
Yet this village is alive in a way that I wish mine was.
A heavily loaded wagon rolls past us and the driver nods respectfully toward us and waves, giving us a wide grin that lights up his entire face.
Burlap sacks fill the back, tied tight with rope.
I know that they hold grain, rice, and salt to feed the people, same as back home.
There are large oak barrels that slosh as he passes, filled with what I’m sure is water.
“Supplies,” Onyx says as the man passes. I narrow my eyes in annoyance as I turn to focus on him.
I frown. “Well obviously, what else would it be? Do you think I fell out of the sky? I wasn’t born yesterday, jackass.”
Onyx smirks, biting his lip in a way that makes my stomach drop.
Not now. Gods no, please don’t. I don’t need a reason to find this man attractive.
“I was just pointing out that every village or settlement on this continent isn’t without the basic necessities needed for survival.
I didn’t mean to offend that superior intellect of yours. ”
The snide comment makes me grit my teeth but it’s also mildly hilarious, and I would laugh but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I settle for glaring at him instead, but Onyx appears entirely unbothered by me.
Of course he does.
By now we're directly in front of the gates, and my eyes are fixed ahead. We pass beneath them a few moments later. The thick wooden gates reinforced with black iron stand open within the wall of weathered stone. Someone has repaired sections of the wall over the years, replacing cracked blocks with newer ones. Caring for what lies within. The thought makes my heart warm, and I’m eager to get to our destination— wherever that is.
It isn't beautiful nor is it glamorous, but it’s cared for. That much is immediately clear. The smell of fresh bread grows stronger as we ride through the streets. People step aside to let our horses pass, offering polite greetings as they go about their day.
I’m still surveying the shops and homes neatly built within the walls when a voice catches my attention.
It isn’t the voice itself, but someone calling Onyx’s name in recognition.
And she sounds—happy. I watch as he smiles and waves at an older woman standing outside a tailor's shop, dismounting his horse in a graceful motion.
She approaches him and smiles widely, opening her arms for an embrace.
The woman looks to be fifty or sixty years of age, but I’m uncertain because her skin holds the glow of someone younger.
Her long dark hair is braided in an intricate pattern that falls down her back, and her warm brown skin complements her honey-colored eyes, flecked with green.
“About time you came back, you’ve been gone forever!” the woman says as they embrace. She smiles up at him, looking him over the way a proud mother would. “Who do we have here?” She turns to me, and I plaster on the most genuine smile I can muster.
“This is Lyra Tarethyn,” Onyx says, turning to look at me as he lifts his hand in my direction. I nod slightly, bowing my head and pressing two fingers to my heart in acknowledgment. She returns my gesture and I smile, happy to know that the goddess Illurine is welcomed and revered here.
“Lyra, this is Talia, an old friend.” He nods my way before continuing, “We’re passing through, but will need a place to rest and house the horses for the night. Do you think Otto has any rooms available?”
“For you, always,” Talia says kindly, and the two continue their conversation.
My eyes widen at the prospect of an actual bed and food.
By now it’s taking everything in me not to leap off the horse and run to the man I see roasting fish over a fire.
It smells so good that I can almost imagine the taste.
Whatever Onyx and Talia are saying is lost to me, because I’m too occupied salivating over the smells coming from the shops scattered throughout the village.
This place isn’t nearly as small as I thought it was.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lyra!” Talia says excitedly, walking over to me. “It takes this one forever to come through for a visit.” She narrows her eyes on Onyx, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
I’m still on my horse, wondering if I should dismount or not. I position my body to dismount but Onyx holds his hand up, stopping me.
“It has not been forever,” Onyx says, playfully cutting his eyes at Talia. He turns his eyes on me as he lowers his hand, smirking. “We’ll head to the stables, Lyra. That eager to get off of your horse?”
“Get off of the horse? No. Get away from you? Absolutely.” I shoot back through a tight lipped smile, hoping my eyes convey the message I don’t speak aloud: I hate you.
Onyx and Talia are finishing up their conversation and saying their goodbyes when one of the boys from earlier runs up to Onyx, shoving a small carved figure into his hand.
“I finished it! Where have you been?” the child says in a small voice, bright green eyes gazing up at Onyx.
The boy can’t be older than five or six years, with curly golden hair and eyes the greenest I’ve ever seen.
His little round face is absolutely adorable, and I’m shocked and a bit taken aback that so many people know Onyx and seem to genuinely adore him.
His demeanor is different with them; he smiles, radiating warmth and genuine happiness at their presence.
All I’ve gotten out of him these past few days is sharp sarcasm and annoyance. I must be so lucky.
Onyx accepts the horse that the boy is shoving into his hand with a smile before giving me a mischievous look, and I catch the twinkle in his eye.
I look at the item in Onyx’s hand and notice it’s a carving that resembles a horse.
A very ugly horse—but I smile widely and tell him it’s the most beautiful carving I’ve ever seen.
How can I not? The small boy looks impossibly proud of his creation.
Onyx turns it over once in his gloved hand, scrunching his face as if inspecting it thoroughly before he speaks. “It’s ugly.”
The child beams and lets out a jolly laugh, pointing at Onyx’s mare. “Just like your horse!”
The laugh escapes before I can stop it, bright and completely uninhibited.
Gods, I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that.
It wasn’t one of the bitter little huffs I usually reserve for people’s nonsense, but a real laugh.
The kind that bubbles up before you have the chance to think better of it, spilling out like a rush of flowing water.
Both of them immediately turn toward me, the boy smiling and Onyx smirking at me. The boy looks delighted, as though my approval somehow validates his artistic vision. Onyx, meanwhile, looks suspiciously pleased with himself, which is enough to make me regret laughing at all.
I scowl, not wanting to give Onyx the satisfaction of knowing that moment had brought a brief moment of joy to my life. My heart aches for a moment, thinking of the children back home who miss out on interactions like these. He notices, of course.
“What?” he says, noticing my visible mood shift. I’m not upset; no, I’m taking in the fact that people in Lycar seem to have a peaceful, balanced flow to their lives. An uninvited pang of sadness hits me, and I wonder what my life would have been like if I were reared here instead of Elvora.
“The villagers like you.” I drag my attention back to the present and gesture vaguely toward the retreating child. There is no point dwelling on what my life might have looked like if I’d been born somewhere else. Those thoughts never lead anywhere good.
Onyx follows my gaze. “That’s a stretch—they tolerate me.”
I snort. “No, I don’t think that’s the truth.”
I point toward the boy, who is now showing off his horse carving to what appears to be an entirely uninterested audience.
“That was not tolerance. They genuinely seem to like you, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”
A smirk tugs at my lips as I tilt my head, studying him. If I were being honest—which I try very hard not to be where Onyx is concerned—it isn’t actually difficult to understand. Not here. Not after seeing him with these people.
Something unreadable crosses his face. For the briefest moment, the hard edges soften before the expression disappears entirely. “Children are easy to impress.”
He says it as though it explains everything, but it explains absolutely nothing.