19. Nineteen
nineteen
Seven days. It took them seven days to reach the border to Vellia.
Erqis was as exhausted and quiet as the rest of his troops, and had eventually given Neira's pack to Qavor so he could keep a closer eye on the princess himself. He had no jokes for her, no quips. He couldn't even find the energy to flirt. There was nothing but their slow, sucking steps through mud and bramble, his hand ever hovering by Neira’s elbow to catch her should she stumble. His ribs ached with each step – and Qavor was still favouring his leg, which didn't do him any favours at all.
Somehow, the trek inland hadn't been nearly half as bad, and Erqis didn’t think it was only Neira slowing them down. It was as if the cursed land itself was unwilling to let them leave, was holding onto them with invisible talons as it bled them dry.
When dawn broke, they were less than a mile from the border; steps quickened, eyes brightened, and then there were the sounds – laughter, shouts, talk, horses. The rest of his army was right where he had left it, with all their horses.
Erqis stepped over the visible border where the grass turned fresh and green, and took what felt like the first breath of air in almost a month. And it smelled terrible – the travelling half of his army was filthy, sweaty, covered in muck and grime, and now there was the delightful stench of horseshit added to the mix now.
But it was air. Fresh, clean air, regardless of his own stench, devoid of the damp mists, the sharp, earthy stink of the moors, the strange metallic bite that he hadn’t noticed until it was no longer there. The sky was morning bright, the pink and orange of it chasing the night's deep blues. Shreds of fluffy clouds were lined with liquid gold. Far to the south he could see the river Meln winding through the land like a broad, gleaming ribbon, blending into the horizon. Beyond that lay Mir, the first realm he had conquered – and within Mir, Duskport.
There had never been a more beautiful sight. Just a few more days and they’d be home.
His soldiers streamed around him, into the camp where their comrades greeted them loudly. Despite the ruckus, he heard a soft intake of breath, barely a gasp.
Neira stood just behind him, still on the other side of the border. She was as bedraggled as the rest of them, pale and splattered with mud, fatigue bruising her eyes. She had braided her hair tightly around her head a few days ago, and half of it had escaped since.
When he had met her, she had been so regal despite her state of undress and the shackles around her wrists. But now, standing here, he saw her for what she was: a woman lost in the world, scared to take the final step, knowing that it would leave the life she'd known behind.
He had, at one point in the past, stood at a border, hesitating to cross it. That single step had promised so much pain, and then had yielded such rewards once he had dared to take it.
Erqis held out his hand, his smile soft, genuine. She didn’t move, but her dark eyes fixed on him. Stayed, as the sun reached above the trees behind her and doused him in gold, although the daylight didn’t seem to touch her at all.
"There is an inn not far from here," he said gently.
Neira said nothing. Didn't move.
Erqis felt his throat tighten. What if she crumbled into dust once she crossed the border? Did the foul magic of the land keep her alive?
Was Neira wondering the same?
"I'll make sure they have hot water for a bath,” he continued. They were the only people left now at the border; even Qavor had walked ahead, eager to leave Brightmere and its cursed strangeness behind. "And hot food."
Longing flitted over her face and she lifted her gaze from him, sweeping it over this new realm she had never seen – the sights she had probably never seen, Erqis realised. Everything was bright, colourful. Alive .
"You can ride my horse."
Neira took a tiny step, bringing the tip of her shoe close to the verdant grass beyond her borders. A single breath of hesitation passed between them, both dreading what could happen – then Erqis curled his fingers around her hand and pulled, quite gently, until she stood beside him, the morning light gleaming on her hair. She took a shuddering breath, her fingers squeezing between his.
Whole, alive.
"I've never sat on a horse before."
"I'll teach you."
The inn rolled into view behind the next gentle hill, and Erqis was so relieved to see it that he almost dropped to his knees in the middle of the road. The battalion around them, now swollen in numbers, had also begun to hasten their steps, some of them eager for rest, and all of them for some sense of normalcy as far away from Brightmere’s border as they could get.
Even Neira, seated astride his own horse, looked tempted to spur the big animal into a gallop to reach the inn sooner. She had quickly gotten the hang of riding, probably out of pure grit and spite rather than any actual penchant for it.
A scout had ridden ahead to warn the innkeeper of the influx of customers; by the time they arrived, two entire oxen were roasting over a fire pit, and while it would take hours to finish roasting, the sight and scent alone was enough to lift their spirits.
The innkeeper's wife bustled Neira away the moment her feet had touched the ground, after she had been pointed out as royalty by Emra. Erqis let her go. There was a hot bath waiting for her in one of the inn's larger rooms, something the princess desperately needed – they all did, but Erqis joined his soldiers in the brook that ran past the inn.
Every single part of his body ached. All he wanted was to sleep for the next year straight.
He didn't have that luxury.
Once dressed, in blessedly clean trousers and a simple shirt, on bare feet in soft grass, he gave his report to his commanders. He told them of the hardships of the trek through Brightmere, how the Dread King had raised the dead to fight for him, how those dead were the only subjects the necromancer kept watch over; how Neira had been betrayed.
"Was it a good idea to bring her?" One of the commanders asked, wary doubt colouring her voice. "What if she turns on you? What if she makes us all her thralls in the night?"
Erqis felt protective rage grip the back of his mind and throttled it before it could translate into wreathing flames. It was a valid question.
"Princess Neira was betrayed because she did the right thing – the wise thing. She made hard decisions that any of us would struggle with, for the good of her realm, and she was stabbed in the back for it." He shook his head. "If she had wanted us dead, enthralled, we'd be long lost already."
Even if he didn’t think Neira had that kind of power, it wouldn't hurt to let the commanders think that maybe she did. Let them carry that rumour back to the troops, so no one would dare fuck with her.
Neira wasn't looking for friends, after all. He knew she would rather be feared than to present as a potentially dangerous but otherwise easy target. Already, his commanders were exchanging looks. They were sure to draw their own conclusions soon enough.
Erqis didn't even know what to do with her now. Feed her, let her sleep off the exhaustion as best she could, naturally, but after?
"Dismissed. Rest, eat. We will carry on towards Breakshore in the morning."
Qavor turned to him when the commanders left to relay his orders to their teams. "What now?"
"Rest. Eat. We move-"
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
Erqis pulled his brother to the side, into the shade the inn provided. It was the only semi-quiet spot he could see, with the inn's employees running around to provide soap, drink, what food they had, and a crowd of soldiers still waiting for their turn in the brook.
"I have absolutely no fucking idea."
The Farn huffed his frustration, crossing his arms. "She's scared."
"I know. I'm considering her options." Erqis ran his hands over his face, the thick rasp of beard on his jaw. "Gods below, I'm just glad we got out of there alive, honestly."
"We had a few close calls." Qavor's lips quirked. "When you tried to bury us under a castle, for example."
"Maybe we did die, and we don’t even know it, walking around under Neira’s thrall." He was joking, of course, but the weight of the possibility made it fall flat. The two men looked at each other in grim silence.
"What if she inherited the magic?” The Farn hissed. “There's something… odd about her. I don't think she realises it. It might be best if she never does."
Gods, the very idea of it…
"It will be fine."
“Erqis-”
“Qav. It’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Could it be hereditary? Even if it was, they had destroyed the source. But what if he was wrong? If he let her go and it turned out she was wrong… she might very well grow into the same threat her father had been.
And then he'd be forced to burn her into ashes.
Erqis climbed the stairs two steps at a time, directed up by the innkeeper's wife; Neira had been given the most spacious room they had, nestled on the top floor. A large tub sat near the window, half-hidden behind a folding screen.
Neira herself was curled up on the four-poster bed, burrowed into pillows, the blanket drawn over her head despite the mild weather.
"You mind if I use your bath?" He asked, a deliberate drawl to his voice. Humour was the one thing Erqis could always fall back on, and it would rile Neira up besides – anything was better than the haunted, hollow look she'd had when she had stepped into the light this morning. He’d even welcome her temper.
Neira dragged the blanket down after a moment of hesitation. She had bathed already, her hair clean and almost dry, but the water had done little for her pale complexion, or the clear signs of exhaustion still marking her face. "Use your own."
"Technically, this is my own." At her frown, his grin widened. "We're sharing this room, pet."
"Absolutely fucking not."
"Neira!" Erqis gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Such language! Wherever could you have learned such filth?"
She gave him a decidedly flat look. "You mean to tell me that an inn this big doesn't have a second room? I thought you were their king."
He wandered closer and leaned over her, his hands propped against the mattress on either side of her head, one knee on the edge of the bed. "Probably, but I didn't ask."
"You didn't ask, and I just have to accept that you'll sleep in here?"
"Basically, love."
Neira's gaze flickered over him as if contemplating which parts of him to flay first, should he make the mistake of closing his eyes in her presence.
Delightful .
"I hope you enjoy the floor, then."
"Oh, no. We're sharing everything." He grinned down, shifting his weight to one arm so he could tap her nose with a fingertip. "Our meals. My horse. The bath. This bed. Our bodies, if you like. I'm more than willing to be at your service for anything you can think of. I'm sure there are some delicious fantasies in that pretty little head of yours."
She shoved him away finally, with a little snarl, and Erqis laughed, sitting up. "I'm here to see if you're hungry, actually. For food, if not for me yet."
"Yet?!"
"Indeed. We both know that what we shared that day – that was special, and you've been thinking about it since." He winked at her. "I certainly have. It's only a matter of time."
"You arrogant little-"
"I assure you, there is nothing little about me." It was good to see some colour back in her cheeks, even if she looked about ready to strangle him. "Come on, let's get some meat in you. Of the food variety, of course."