14. Chapter 14 #2
“I enjoy making fun of it. That is different. I don’t truly enjoy it when people call me ‘Lady’. I’m a lowborn nobody from Elvora. I don’t deserve that title.”
“You deserve everything, Lyra. Now come, let’s get a bit of fresh air for the day. Try not to annoy me much, it has been a very long morning.”
Riven looks between us, clearly attempting not to smile at our exchange. Does he pick up on the tension filling the air? Is it noticeable? I sure hope not. I feel warmth creeping up my cheeks and look away, trying to hide my embarrassment.
Onyx must have noticed Riven’s smile and gives him a look that would probably have sent a lesser man into immediate apology. Riven merely straightens.
“Are you ready?” Onyx asks me.
“Yes.” I exhale, looking up at the endless gray sky.
“Then let’s go.”
I glance past the gate, where the road descends from the palace toward the city below.
From this height, Andell looks like a dark jeweled thing wrapped around the mountain, all black stone and silver bridges.
The city feels less frightening from above than it did when I first entered.
Less like a monster waiting with open jaws and more like a place where people live, like any other.
“I assume I am not actually free to run,” I say.
“It would not be in your best interests. And I have no desire to chase you. I’m a very good tracker, Lyra. If you run, I will find you.”
“Well that’s very disappointing for me. And here I was, thinking I might have a chance at escape.”
“Apologies for crushing your hope. If it makes you feel better, you wouldn’t be able to navigate Andell without someone who knows the land anyway.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Hmm. Thanks for the explanation. It seems you are in a mood.”
“It appears you are as well.”
“I’m always in a mood. Captivity does that to a person.”
“I know.” He sighs, walking in front of me then beckons with one hand for me to follow.
The way he says it makes my chest tighten. I hadn’t realized how much I missed our conversation. His dry tone and half-smiles. His ability to make captivity feel slightly less suffocating, which is dangerous because captivity should not feel tolerable simply because one irritating man is present.
I look away but Onyx notices. Of course he does, he’s so observant he barely misses anything. He doesn’t comment though, which is a kindness.
We leave through the eastern gate with Riven trailing several paces behind us.
The road down from the palace winds through terraces cut directly into the mountain.
The palace looms behind us, black and silver against the gray sky, and I resist the urge to look back more than once.
I wonder if Thorin is watching us leave from somewhere within the palace.
Does it matter if he is? He allowed me freedom today, and I’m taking it.
Andell opens beneath us slowly. Not all at once like the view from my window, but in pieces, each turn revealing something new.
The upper streets are wide and clean, lined with dark stone buildings whose balconies drip with silver ivy that glows faintly where it clings to the railings.
The ivy is not alive in the way ordinary vines are alive, but enchanted.
A surge of anger flashes and I stare at the ivy as if it has offended me.
Thorin forbids magic to the cities and villages, but that order does not extend to people in Andell.
Here, if they have it, they can use it freely.
What a tragedy. I add that to my list of reasons why I hate the king.
The ivy shimmers when the wind touches it, as tiny leaves shimmer softly against one another like glass. Lanterns float above the road in neat rows, their flames blue-white and steady despite the cold breeze.
People step aside when they see Onyx, some bowing their heads, others nodding with genuine respect.
A few even smile. Though, not the way people smiled at him in Lycar.
That warmth was easy and familiar, almost familial.
Here, the respect is different. People straighten when he passes, conversations pause and soldiers at corners snap to attention.
Even nobles in their fine coats lower their gazes with a politeness that feels much closer to caution than affection.
I watch all of it, and miss nothing. People in Andell are so strange, the way they move through the palace and the streets. They don’t seem afraid, just—strange.
“You are staring,” Onyx says, noticing as I watch a nobleman amble along.
“No I’m not! I am observing. They are different things. The city is beautiful but—there is no warmth here. Not like…” My words trail off as I look at him knowingly.
“People will be different everywhere you go.”
“So… this place isn’t resilient, then?” I recall his words from Lycar, when he told me that the people there were resilient.
His eyes flick toward me. “You’re a nosy little terror, do you know that?”
“Yes. I may have been told that a time or two.”
“It’s a gift, to be able to read atmospheres, and the changes in people. Not a magical one, but a necessary one. It’s how I’ve survived all this time.”
I catch his attention with that, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Yes, you are very observant. I'll give you that, Lady Tarethyn.”
His mouth curves, and for a moment we are back in the forest, back on the road, back in the strange space before palaces and kings and dead gardens complicated everything.
Right then a small child darts across the street ahead of us, chasing a ribbon that slips from her hand.
Riven makes a sharp sound of annoyance, but Onyx moves first, stepping forward and catching the ribbon before it skims into a narrow canal beside the road.
The curly haired girl freezes when she sees him, green eyes going wide.
For one second, I expect her to show fear. That makes my stomach knot, and I wonder what Onyx does for the king that would make children fear him. The boy in Lycar didn’t fear Onyx at all—he seemed to genuinely adore him. I hope it’s not different here.
To my great relief, the girl grins.
“Captain Onyx!” Her shrill voice makes me smile as her face lights up, revealing the two missing front teeth that somehow make her grin even brighter.
He crouches and hands her the ribbon, patting her head. “You should be more careful near the water, Senele.”
“But I was careful!” She pouts. Goddess, she is adorable. She looks well fed and clothed, and happy. This is how children are supposed to look. My heart swells as I watch their interaction.
“You nearly fell in. Your mother would have a fit, and you know it.” His voice is gentle as he scolds her, and I can't help but smile. Onyx is going to make a wonderful father someday.
Some lucky woman will marry him, and he'll spend the rest of his life making her laugh, calming her fears, and carrying children home. A strange pang settles in my chest but I ignore it. Not today.
“But I did not fall in. You saved me!”
I press my lips together to hold in my laughter. The sweet child has a point. Onyx’s gaze flicks toward me as if daring me to comment.
Obviously, I do.
“She makes a strong argument, Captain. You were there to save her.”
The child looks at me then, her eyes catching on my hair. I wait for the usual reaction. Fear. Suspicion. Something familiar enough to brace for.
“Your hair is pretty. I like it! I wish my hair were that pretty.”
My throat tightens, and something warm blooms in my chest so unexpectedly that it takes me a moment to answer.
“Your hair is beautiful, little one,” I say, my voice softening as I crouch to her eye level and brush a hand gently over her wild brown curls.
She beams, snatches her ribbon from Onyx, and races back toward the woman calling her name from the bakery doorway, her laughter trailing behind her.
My chest aches. I've never really let myself imagine a husband.
Or children. Lives like mine don't usually end with happily-ever-afters.
The realization catches me off guard. I swallow against the lump rising in my throat and force it back down.
There's no point dwelling on a future I was never foolish enough to expect.
My gaze drifts to Onyx. I wonder if he's taught himself to stop imagining it, too.
Onyx stands beside me, saying nothing, which is good.
If he says something kind right now, I might lose whatever fragile grip I have on myself, and I refuse to cry in the middle of the street because a child complimented my hair.
That would be ridiculous. Understandable, considering no one has ever complimented my hair. But still ridiculous.
“Children here are not taught to fear silver hair?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
Onyx is quiet for a moment. “Not here they aren’t. There is magic here and they do not fear it. Having silver hair isn’t something to fear, Lyra. It’s just… hair.”
Not here.
It’s such a small answer with such an enormous wound hidden inside it. I lock my emotions down before he can see the huge impact it’s having on me. Gods. Why can’t Elvora be as simple as a place that I was taught to hate?
I look at him sharply. “What does that mean?”
“It means Andell has different superstitions than Elvora.”
“That is not what it means and you know it.”
“No,” he agrees. “It is not. But it is all I am going to say.”
My pulse picks up. Finally. He’s giving me something that’s almost an answer.
Before I can press him, Riven clears his throat behind us. “Captain.”
Onyx’s expression shifts immediately. Captain again. Guarded. Formal. The door closes before I can wedge my foot inside it. Damn it. I hate that.