21. Twenty-One
twenty-one
The next inn, in Breakshore, had been a far cry from the small establishment they had first stopped in after leaving Brightmere. She had had her own room, too, had insisted upon it the moment she saw how large it was. It had housed them all with room to spare.
"We could honeymoon here," Erqis told her, standing in the courtyard of the inn as they prepared to leave after breakfast.
"If you ever find someone willing to marry you, I suppose you could." She glanced around; the courtyard wasn't anything special, as far as courtyards went, just a circular, dusty plot surrounded by stables. "I'm sure this town has its charms."
"Town! " Erqis laughed. "My love, you are standing in the second-largest trading port in all of Malvea! This town has so much more than charm ." A stable hand brought the king his horse and Erqis smiled, patting the animal's dark, glossy neck. "You think so too, don't you, Lady Raspberry?"
"I won’t even comment on that."
They had shared Lady Raspberry's back the day before, during the decidedly leisurely trek through the flower meadows of Vellia. It had been the deciding factor that had made Neira insist on separate rooms. There was only so much of Erqis' presence that she could endure in a day.
"My lovely bride to be has nothing to say? That's new."
"I'm not marrying you, Erqis. You need to stop spreading that rumour."
He pressed his hand to his chest, sagging back against the horse's side. "You wound me with your words!" Around them, a few of the soldiers chuckled, and Neira shook her head, sending a quick prayer for patience to any god who would listen. "But you will be heartbroken to hear that I cannot share the horse with you today."
"Ohh. Noo. What a shame."
"Isn't it? The journey is too long. And since you and the Lady are already such good friends, I'll let you have her."
Neira weighed the rising anxiety against her relief to not be stuck another day on horseback with him. Before leaving Brightmere, she had never even been near a horse, not that she could remember, although she knew what a horse was, and she was sure that there must have been horses at the castle. From Brightmere’s border to the first inn, she had clung to the horse’s mane while Erqis led it at a slow, steady walk. But on the day's journey to Breakshore, he had sat behind her and given her the reins. Even with his steadying presence behind her it had been a terrifying experience, the army now rested and moving far faster than before, but Lady Raspberry had simply trotted alongside Qavor's horse, unperturbed and without fuss, needing little direction from either rider.
But to ride alone?
Relief bloomed when she saw the Farn lead his own mare over. "Thank you."
"Praise the morning, you do have manners!"
"Don't mind him," Qavor told Neira, before her fantasy of throttling the king in broad daylight could fully played out in her mind. "He always is insufferable in the mornings.”
“I’ve noticed.
“It'll pass."
"Will it?"
"…good point." Qavor side-stepped the kick Erqis was aiming at him and offered her his laced hands as a step-up. She placed her foot in the cradle of his palms and hopped, the strength of his arms all but boosting her into the saddle. "I will be your escort today, your Highness."
She gave him the most saccharine smile she could muster. "Praise the morning."
To her right, the bay glittered under the bright sunshine, colourful sails dotting the waves all the way to the handful of islands she could see in the distance as they rode along the Coastway, the long, broad road that spanned the entirety of Malvea.
She longed for the muted mists of her home, where the sun never burned on her skin as it did here. She had never seen grass so verdant it almost stung her eyes. Everything here was still too bright, too loud.
Erqis had ridden ahead, speaking to his commanders in turn, while Qavor remained at her side, a steadfast presence that managed to keep both her and the horse as calm as possible – Neira, mostly. Lady Raspberry kept an easy pace with the other mare, their heads bobbing next to each other, and Neira had early on tried to mimic Qavor's hold on the reins before giving up and just resting them looped around the saddle horn.
Her thighs ached, her lower back did too, and all the burning pain reminded her of was Erqis' tongue, almost scalding as he devoured her.
"Are we stopping for lunch?" Anything to stretch her legs. Neira was quite sure she never wanted to ride again in her life after this.
"I don't believe so, your Highness. Are you hungry?"
Neira threw him a half-smile. "Just hoping for an opportunity to gallop away to freedom."
Qavor chuckled, but he did nudge his horse a little closer to hers.
This close to the shore, there was hardly space between settlements anymore, the outskirts of each one spilling over into the outskirts of the next – smaller ports, fishing villages, a larger town or two marked the Coastway from Breakshore to Duskport, so densely populated that Neira didn't realise they had even reached the capital until Qavor began pointing out landmarks to her; the first of five large markets, several temples to gods she had only heard of in passing, each grander than the last. The battalion had thinned without her even noticing, small groups of soldiers having streamed off at various points in the city, until only around three dozen soldiers on horses were left by the time they drew close to the palace.
Neira had always considered her home grand, a massive, fortified palace throning the moors, winding alabaster halls and mazes she could get lost in.
It was nothing compared to the palace of Duskport.
She had first spotted it an hour after they had departed from Breakshore, just before crossing the broad arm of the river Meln into the heart of Erqis' empire. She hadn’t realised at the time what she was looking at.
Now, on the outskirts of the capital, the palace loomed. It sat on a massive, natural cliff above the shore, its walls and domes and buildings winding down the long path, and she found it quite impossible to determine where the palace grounds ended and the city itself began. Various styles of buildings had been chosen not to enhance what was already there, the ancient palace clinging to the very lip of the cliff with its darkened stone barely distinguishable from the rough rock it sat on, but to appeal to the tastes of the rulers who had commissioned them over time. The result was a sprawling town clustered at the foot of the palace itself, cobbled together with thick stone, stained glass windows, arches and pillars and soaring domes before, halfway down the immense cliff, the building style gradually evened out into what was the general appearance of Duskport.
"Don't you get lost in there?" She asked, and glanced over to catch Qavor's expression before he schooled his face into calmness; but Neira knew what she had seen. Discomfort, maybe even something like pain. Curious .
"Not anymore. We don't use all of it." He shrugged. "The main halls and rooms probably don't span much wider than your own castle, your Highness. You'll get used to it."
If he had any inclinations of whether Neira would be allowed to roam as she wished, or which wing she'd be confined in, he didn't let any show.
Erqis had taken the lead of their reduced procession, and it seemed his arrival had been made known ahead of time. The broad road was lined with citizens cheering for their king, for the soldiers that had returned home safe and whole.
Maybe even for her capture, if they had drawn the logical conclusion and guessed her for what she was, the royal captive of their king’s latest conquest.
She could feel their eyes on her like clutching fingers, unwanted and intrusive. But Neira kept her chin high, tried not to let show that she truly did not know anything of the world she had been thrust into, that there was dread curling in her stomach.
That she had no idea what was going to happen to her now.
A small boy caught her eye, standing by his mother's side, hiding shyly in her skirts. Dark hair, dark eyes. He looked so much like Ramin that Neira twisted in her saddle when they passed him, his name caught in her throat, on her tongue, squinting to make sure it wasn't him after all.
It wasn't. The little boy was elven, the tips of his pointed ears poking through his hair.
She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed; had Ramin made it here? Had they been able to secure a ship?
If her plan had worked, Safir and Ramin were en route to Huldra already, maybe even switching ships in Green Harbour right now. And she was here, a glorified hostage trotting after the man who had stolen her. Unsure when she would be able to reunite with them, if at all.
Her brooding spiralled to new, morose depths in the hour it took them to wind through the arches, passing over and under bridges, making the trek halfway around the city-size palace. Neira barely even noticed her surroundings until she felt herself being pulled from the saddle. Her eyes widened, and she clung to Lady Raspberry’s reins before she realised it was only Erqis setting her on her feet.
There was a certain tension to him that made Neira follow him quietly, her hand in his.
This should be a moment of triumph for the king. Surely it had to be. He had conquered a new realm in a handful of weeks, had brought spoils and riches home. But the line of his shoulders was rigid, the smile frozen on his face, more a grimace than joy.
Neira didn't have the time or the energy to take in everything as Erqis led her through broad halls, deeper into the palace. Her attention was on her thighs, her hips, the stiff ache in them, and how undignified she must look, stumbling after the king. And the horrible pit that not knowing left in her stomach. All she knew was that guards stood at every corner, rigid and still, their eyes following them.
Erqis stopped in front of a pair of huge wooden doors, reaching all the way to the high, domed ceiling. It was so much like home that Neira's heart ached for a single, dizzying pang.
Erqis turned to her, took both of her hands. "We are addressing the court."
" Now ?" Neira glanced down at herself, clad in a tunic and riding leggings that had been hurriedly washed for her at the inn, definitely not something to step in front of a royal court in. Gods below, she probably smelled like a horse.
"Yes. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can dismiss them. You don't know how annoying they are. Trust me, it's better this way."
She made a face. "Do I have a choice?"
Finally, a flicker of his true grin warmed his face. "Absolutely not." Erqis nodded to the men beside the doors, squaring his shoulders.
And then the doors opened, regardless of the squirming nerves in her belly.
The throne hall was packed. Men and women in fine clothing stood to the sides in wooden, cushioned pews, and more lined the balconies above to either side of the grand hall. Erqis kept her hand firmly in his as he strode down the long carpet without sparing any of them a glance, so Neira did the same, adopted a similar, familiar , haughty tilt to her chin.
One step after another, the only sounds a quiet whisper or two, the rustle of their riding clothes. The last time she had been in a throne hall with Erqis, she'd been naked and in chains, half-feral with fury, her throat raw from screeching at her betrayers. She wasn't sure this was any better.
Erqis climbed the shallow steps towards the throne, a massive, ornate thing set upon a golden dais, but didn't sit. He turned to address the hall.
"I return from campaigning, as you see, unharmed and victorious. Which most of you will likely hate, but we can't always have what we pray for, can we. Perhaps you could try praying harder next time?"
Neira blinked at him, trying to keep her jaw from dropping. He sounded less a king and more a petulant child who had been forced to tidy his room, and was now intent on making that inconvenience everybody else's problem. The court, likewise, began murmuring among themselves.
"I bring riches from the cursed realm of Brightmere," he continued, his voice raised to carry to every corner of the room. From one of the balconies, a banner unfurled – her father's sigil, a waning moon caught in the bare branches of a dead tree, silver on purple. As if Erqis had expected nothing less than taking her realm, along with all the others.
His fingers tightened around hers for a moment. "And I bring Princess Neira of Brightmere, heir to the Dread King." When Erqis glanced at her, Neira realised there was an almost manic gleam in his eyes. "Who has accepted my proposal. We shall be wed within a fortnight."
" What ?" Neira's hiss was drowned under the court's sudden uproar – cheers and consternation in equal measure.
"What?"
"I thought you were joking!"
Erqis kissed her hand. "You said you wanted to be queen. Rule my kingdom. It has a lot more subjects than yours, and every single one of them tests my patience."
Anything she could have said was bitten back as the first of the nobles approached them. It was soon an overlong procession of them, all eager to be the next to congratulate their king and ingratiate themselves to their future queen, while Neira silently seethed. Pure spite kept a pleasant, if aloof expression on her face. Pure wrath kept her nails dug painfully into Erqis' hand when he refused to relinquish it.
Only when he had led her to the royal wing and the door to her new rooms was closed behind them did she finally unleash herself.
"How dare you force my hand into this."
"You saved face quite beautifully." Unperturbed, Erqis selected an apple from a crystal bowl and bit into it with a loud crunch. "I'm impressed."
"I will not marry you!"
"Will not or dare not?"
Neira bristled. Gods below, she wanted to smack that smug look off his face. "I will find a way to kill you in your sleep."
"You'd actually have to be able to get close enough for that. You know who gets to be close enough at night? My wife. A position which I have offered you several times already, yet you keep throwing it back in my face."
"You wouldn't dare risk it." Not when he himself had taught her how to wield a blade, had seen what she had done with the pretty dagger he had freely handed her.
But he had slept beside her many times since they left Brightmere, and nothing had happened to him. She had proved herself a toothless monster indeed.
"Risk," Erqis told her, biting into his apple again. "Is the spice of life. Would being my queen really be so terrible? Look around you." He gestured further into the rooms, with the windows elaborately crafted from stained glass the colours of a sunset, the furniture carved from dark, polished wood, the opulence and promised comfort. "A real court. With real people."
"Why are you so fixated on this?"
"Maybe I like you, Neira. Ever thought of that?"
She scoffed. "I will find a way to make your life very miserable. Several ways. All of the ways, in fact."
The grin he gave her was positively maniacal. "Deal."
There was more to his reasoning, some secret motivation he wasn't telling her, Neira was sure. Whatever it was, it was clear she wasn't getting out of this easily.