Chapter 20
Idreamed of a simple life. Sequestered in an idyllic plain, I tended the garden of my little house, watching the lake sparkle beneath the sun. Two children, their faces blurry, ran around the yard, and the door swung open. Joy bloomed in my heart as I stood to greet my husband.
My eyes shot open. I lay on hard, cold ground, wrapped in a thin blanket and cloak. A pleasant breeze ruffled my hair, and light spilled in through the tent flaps. Sitting up, I noticed Eleos lacing on his bracers, bag already packed.
“Morning,” he said softly. “I figured I’d let you sleep in a bit. You needed it.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I’ve always been an early riser.” He deflected, just as Seraphim promised he would.
Pulling up my knees, I studied his face. “I’ve never had this sort of thing before.”
He looked up, interested. “What’s that?”
“Someone I felt I could trust.”
“I did once.” He picked up the other bracer and slid it on. “But it’s been some time.”
“You don’t trust Seraphim?”
“As a leader. As a companion. But not like . . . " He trailed off, searching for the right word.
I knew what he meant: someone you spilled the inner workings of your heart to.
Rising, I grabbed my sash from the ground. “Was it the girl you courted?”
“Which one?”
“Oh, so he is a skirt-chaser.” I teased.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, neither of them. It was my sister.”
“You have a sister?” I asked, tying my sash.
“I did,” he said quietly. His sage-green eyes glistened with nostalgia. “She was the one who called me El.”
“Oh,” I said somberly. “I wish I could have met her. I bet she had one hell of a sharp wit.”
A smile bloomed across his face. “Oh, she did.” He confirmed, sweeping his cloak over his shoulder.
Grabbing my bag, I reached inside. “I wanted to give this to you under better circumstances, but—” My eyes fell to his journal as he tucked it into his satchel. “I think you need it now.” Pulling out the quill, I placed it into his hand.
Eleos turned it over, admiring the words carved into the leather. “Ah!” He gasped softly. “This is Cynthus leather. When did you . . .?”
“When you and Seth were fawning over the cloaks.”
He grinned. “Thank you, Lady Aethra. It’s beautiful.” Tossing aside his broken quill, he tucked the new one safely into his journal. Cupping my face, he kissed me on the forehead. “Go help Seraphim. She’s probably getting impatient.”
He strode outside without another word. Playing with the clasp of my cape, I loitered in the tent. After what happened last night, I’d expected more than words between us. A kiss? Or, maybe an amorous embrace?
Perhaps Eleos was more traditional and preferred a formal declaration of courtship before engaging in anything intimate.
Stepping outside, I shielded my eyes from the rising sun. A streak of light illuminated Seraphim’s fiery hair as she roused the camp, snapping orders at the guards and able-bodied men, stopping briefly to help a young mother tie their cargo to a pack mule.
I didn’t believe the masked nobleman—not a word of the slander he’d tried to sell me. Seraphim had started this endeavor, risked her life for the Bloodstone, for Seth, for all of us. She strode with the confidence of a leader, guiding these people though it hadn’t been our plan.
And here I was, having spent most of this journey thinking it was pointless. Wishing I could flee.
“Morning, princess.” Seth walked by, tossing and catching an apple. “You’re late, as usual.”
“And you could’ve woken me up.” I pointed out.
“And rouse the sleeping beauty?” He smiled mischievously. “Want to fit in another training session before we take off?”
“Yes.” I declared, marching up to him. “You owe me secrets, remember? I’m going to beat them out of you.”
“Are you sure about that? I’m fairly sure I’ll be beating them out of you.”
“I’ve been studying your weak points. You’re as good as mine.”
“Am I?” His gaze swept over me again, quickly darting from my hips to my breasts before settling on my face. I’d heard the tone in his voice a thousand times from other men.
Should I tell him I intended to court Eleos? Maybe that would only make things awkward. He’d figure it out soon enough.
Seth’s smile vanished, and he stepped back. The amicable warmth he’d exuded but a moment ago turned icy and detached. “I hope El knows what he’s doing.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Women like you are only good for fun.”
I blinked, wondering if I’d heard him correctly. “What did you say?” I asked, eyes narrowing.
He turned his head, sharp jaw tensed. “We’ll find time to train tomorrow. Seraphim wanted to see you.”
Spinning on his heel, Seth stalked away. Bewildered, I watched him go, then turned my gaze to the ground, as though the dirt could provide answers.
Men. I could read their thoughts and lust like an open book, but when it came to their inner feelings?
I was utterly lost.
* * *
I’d never traveled with such a large group before. It was agonizingly slow. With children, elderly and wounded, our pace slowed to a crawl. We crept through the mountain road, following it into the verdant basin where Therapne, home of the clergy, awaited us.
Eleos was quiet for most of the journey, tending to the wounded where he could. I wasn’t sure how to act around him, how to bring up the night we’d shared when he wouldn’t.
Seth started avoiding me, too. If I approached him, he’d exchange curt words and find an excuse to get away from me. After the third time he gave me the cold shoulder, I gave up any attempts to speak with him.
Instead, I devoted myself to being Seraphim’s assistant, or Percy’s, should she shoo me away. The bard had somehow become the camp cook.
After a final, steep path down the mountainside, we left the treacherous roads behind and entered the beautiful land Therapne called home.
Grass so green it almost didn’t seem real grew in lush waves over the hillside, flecked with countless wildflowers.
Fruit trees sprouted in abundance, and birds flitted through the skies, beckoning us to follow the river toward civilization and safety.
We were supposed to reach the city by nightfall. Riding at the head of the company, I leaned forward on Athena’s saddle, watching the horizon for life.
Percy trotted up beside me, a ridiculous collage of color on his simple brown mare. “Look at you. Already a professional rider.”
“Only if she’s not galloping,” I corrected, sitting back.
Frowning, Percy rode closer to me. He tilted his hat up so I could see his gray eyes. “Are you alright?”
“I think so. Why?”
“No, not physically.” Glancing back, as though worried someone eavesdropped, he hushed his voice. “I noticed you seemed shaken when I found you. And now Seth’s avoiding you.”
“I’ve noticed that.” I tilted my head toward him. “And Eleos is being distant. I’ve done something to offend the menfolk.”
He chuckled at my verbiage. “Take my word for it: Seth thinks you’re pretty.”
“Is that why he’s avoiding me?” I raised an eyebrow. “What is he, twelve?”
“Twenty-eight, last I checked.” Percy corrected. “No, I mean.” He huffed, frustrated. “I think he doesn’t like that he thinks you’re pretty. Inside and out.”
I blinked at the bard a few times, trying to decipher his words. “I thought bards were supposed to be eloquent.”
“Only when I’m performing.” Percy rolled his shoulders. “Trust me. In matters of the heart, I’m an expert—if you need advice.”
“Seth insulted me last time we talked. Are you sure about that?”
“Exactly. He doesn’t like that he likes you, so he’s pushing you away.”
“Hm.” I sized the bard up. “You’re a man.”
“That I am.”
“If you were Eleos, how would you want to be courted?”
“Stiffly,” Percy answered readily. “Formally. But also, understated. A simple gesture of love in a beloved location.”
I nodded. His advice made sense to me.
“Oh!” Percy’s head jerked back, and his hat fell back over his eyes. “Are you going to woo our scholar?”
“I’m going to try.”
He clapped giddily. “Do you need help? Advice? A new outfit?”
“If we stop in Therapne,” I said, “I’ll take you up on the offer.”
“There’s a dress Therapnen women wear that would be gorgeous on you.” He touched his belt. “I hope we have the coin.”
Smiling, I sat upright and cast my gaze ahead. A statue rose above the trees, and I could see a few farms ahead. Therapne.
“Oh, boy.” Percy tipped his hat down.
“Think we’ll see Officer Percivus?” I asked, a sudden realization striking me. “Oh, are you Percivus the Second?”
“Yes.” Percy said flatly, eyes carrying a clear warning: ‘Don’t say that name again.’ Clicking his tongue, he turned his steed around. “That’s our cue to fall into the shadows.” He strapped his mask on and rode back through the caravan.
Pulling my mask over my eyes, I gently tugged Athena’s reins, turning her around. Something on the horizon caught my eye, and I swiveled in the saddle, watching.
The city rode out to meet us. A small company of armored men approached, pale blue tabards marking them as temple knights. A high-ranking priest rode at their center, swathed in elegant white robes and a sweeping blue cloak.
Well, shit. There went our attempt to slip away unseen.
A knight in a red surcoat broke from the party to intercept the refugees. His gaze settled on me. Cursing under my breath, I turned to meet him. I had never been to Therapne—he wouldn’t recognize me.
The insignia emblazoned on the man’s tabard was familiar: I’d stitched it onto Percy’s disguise—the one meant to imitate his father.
Sir Percivus—senior—addressed me. “What is the meaning of this? We received no word of such a large group.”
“The outpost at Red Bluffs has fallen,” I said gravely. “We come seeking shelter.”
“Fallen?” He repeated in disbelief. “To what enemy?”
“The Empty,” I said. “Please, we have many injured. Children among them.”
Sir Percivus rode closer, gaze sweeping over the procession. I glimpsed a hint of his face behind the helmet, stern with harsh, sharp features. His features matched his son’s—but little else.