Fantasy ~Of Kings and Sibyls~

[elusivethought]

The blanket Edrei offered was threadbare, and her answer was little more comfort.

The prince gave a despondent sigh, eyes dull as they fell on the hard, leafy ground beneath and daydreamed it into woven silk.

Edrei was right. But Luka swallowed hard, trembling at the notion of turning into a corpse on a bed of nettles and wet leaves. Ice slipped down his spine, and he shivered, hugged himself.

“You should eat then,” he instructed her, though the intended regal effect was lost when his words wobbled. Food would keep her much warmer, even if his own stomach somersaulted at the thought of even a crust of bread.

Luka unfolded his blanket and cocked his head, eyeballing the measurement. “We could share, if we stayed close,” he said, dreading a night with a deathly chill nipping his toes and facing it all alone.

Yet as the suggestion iced over in the freezing night air, a more healthy pink rose on his cheeks with the fever flush.

He shrugged, released a shaky sigh, watched his breath cloud into mist before him.

“You should keep warm,” he told her. The prince displayed a measly show of chivalry as he offered his blanket, trying to keep the discomfort from his eyes. His fist shook under the weight of the thin fabric. His teeth chattered.

He squinted at the stars, wished they’d spare a bit more light. He blinked the darkness from his eyes, searched for the absent moon.

“Will you...keep close?” he asked suddenly, disgusted by the raw longing in his voice. His unsteady heart continued to thrum in his chest, beating at his breastbone like a drummer deep in his cups. Sweat beaded his brow, fatigue dragged at his bones, and the cold stole his breath away.

Desperate, Luka took inventory. A ceremonial sword at his hip, made of sharp steel, good steel. A cloak of dyed black wool, warm, hooded. A knife, with jeweled hilt and wicked edge.

He stared at his outstretched fist, and something caught the light. One ring, set with ruby and diamonds. His father’s.

Shoving the blanket into Edrei’s chest, Luka tugged at his finger and freed the ring. He held it out to Edrei between forefinger and thumb. The gold winked at him in the pale gloaming.

“We have this too,” he said, waiting to set it into her palm. It felt a pathetic exchange, but hooded and apple-cheeked and her gaze filled with starlight, Edrei had something of the fae in her — something eldritch, something fearsome, something that prowled in the shadows.

“Take it,” he urged her, eager to settle a fraction of his unending debt.

 

[peritwinkle]

The offer of sharing a blanket did not sound so bad in the brisk night. The grass they had made camp on was damp, stained by mud and breathing a stifling scent of moist dirt. Surrounded by darkness - by nothingness - they could not hope to seek a better shelter, not while the Prince was barely keeping his back bones straight to look at her as he urged the last drop of chivalry he could produce.

But behind that subdued magnanimity hid terror, pain and a barely concealed effort to hang on to whatever life was left within him.

Edrei’s eyes followed with a grimace as the Prince extended his own blanket to her, his arm trembling in the weakened grip. She did not have any intention to leave, for she felt the cold just as deeply as he did, biting down on her bone. “I will stay,” she uttered, and with one hand gently pushed away his fist holding the blanket for her to take. “You need it more than I do right now.”

His next gesture, however, came like a strange dream she could not find reason behind. Perhaps he could not either - he had asked to know the reasons behind her saving him, and she had given him nothing but more obscurity. “Do you think I did it for gold and favours?” she murmured from behind her clenched teeth - partly shivering in cold, partly scourged by his pity. “I don’t want your jewels. I don’t want your silk robes. I don’t want anything to do with you, your Grace, but I did what I thought should be done.”

Her voice was beginning to tremble, and she lifted herself back on her feet, clutching her cape around her shoulders and her own blanket to her chest. “Keep your ring, and keep your blanket,” she said then. “I am staying now, because I have nowhere to go... And I pray to the Gods that this is not a mistake on my behalf.”

She was terrified. Every muscle in her body ached from the tension, shuddered with every move, and she wondered if it was worth clearing her conscience. If it was discovered who it was that had smuggled the Prince out of the Capital, both Raella and the girls would have to suffer on her behalf, and she did not wish to think what they would do to them.

With a wide move of her arms, she set the blanket on the ground by the Prince and reclaimed her seat on the now dry nest, leaving enough room for him to crawl over the other side. She did not dare look in his eye as she did, her own now annoyingly wet, only kindling the lump of fear in her throat.

“Sleep,” she urged. She would take a corner of the blanket covering him for herself, if only to ease some of his own childish need for redeeming himself. The memory of the night they should have spent together were now almost sour. As much as she had hated it, the thought of sleeping on silk sheets was much more appealing than cold grass and wet earth.

In the light of the moon, he was deathly pale, droplets of fever sweat playing on his temples. Deep within her, behind the regret and childish anger, she hoped that in the morning, she would not find the only incarnadine still burning in his cheeks to be gone.

 

[elusivethought]

Luka felt fresh heat burn his ears, his gaze wide with disbelief. His offer hadn’t been solely to reward her kindness; it’d be difficult for him to exchange the ring for gold without questions, but perhaps a pretty girl with a captivating smile could.

He glowered, expression dark as her words clamored for attention in his mind.

She wanted nothing to do with him? If so, why was she here? If so, why risk her life to harbor a fugitive, to travel with a runaway prince?

His eyes narrowed, fever-bright and skeptical. “You may leave if you wish,” he snapped back at her, though fear clenched his chest at the thought. He didn’t want her to abandon him. Not to mention she claimed she had nowhere to go.

Was that true?

Fuming, Luka burrowed beneath the blanket, throwing his weight around as much as a half-sick human could. The wind nipped at his nose and clung to his damp brow, so he threw the fabric over his face, desperate for warmth.

“Luka,” he told her, voice muffled by the blanket. He folded his arms, despite her not being able to see, despite how his elbow protested at the hard ground. “I cannot abide Your Grace once more, and besides, it will g-give us away.”

Anger, resentment, and bitterness fueled a fire inside him, kindled by Edrei. It burned in his chest, stung at the corners of his eyes, and ground his teeth together so tight his jaw ached.

He wanted to scream.

Instead, Luka squeezed his eyelids shut, held tight to his rage, and forgot to be afraid.

✦​

Morning arrived with birdsong and a stiff, bitter ache in his bones. Luka tossed and turned his way to wakefulness, forgetting for a moment his predicament till he opened his eyes.

Edrei sat nearby, hair disheveled by the wind, bruises under her eyes. His scrutiny felt strange as he realized his proximity to her, at the short distance he must have closed during the night.

Distant dreams tugged at his memory: cool fingers brushing his wrist, soft breath against his cheek, and a lovely, half-familiar face marred with concern.

“You’re here,” he croaked in a dazed whisper, staring up at Edrei like she was the reason dawn set the sky blushing, like she’d risen up early to draw up the sun from the well of night.

He blinked, dazed, and tried to clear his throat. “I...”

Luka’s mouth felt dusted with ash. “Do you have anything to drink?” he asked her, groaning to a sit and marveling at the ease in which he sighed and sucked in a breath to complain.

He paused, tried another grip at reality. Better. He was…better. Not well, perhaps, but…

The prince stared at Edrei once more, mouth agape.

“You…” Luka frowned, tried again. “And I’m not dead.” He scowled at his fists, found the ring on his finger, twirled it as the memories flooded back.

 

[peritwinkle]

Luka.

The word resounded in Edrei’s ears for long through the night, until it resembled something akin to profane more than the mere name behind an overly magnified title.

Luka.

It rung with the owls and critters in the darkness, just as loudly and vividly as the woods in their vicinity. Then, as the black infinity shattered into pale violet clouds, it merged with the trill of the birds above them.

The night had been long and tenuous. Weight pulled down on her lids and the slightest breeze scourged her eyes like a whip. She had remained pinned on the blanket by the Prince’s side, watching him like a statue, only not decorous and polished, but rather curled like a weary cat tirelessly watching over its litter. The cover had done little to keep her from freezing, and the cold of the man’s flesh had only deepened her desire for fire, warmth, a hopeless dream of safety.

Every once in a while, when the night became silent, her lids fluttered closed, but only for a moment, as she shook herself back sober from the momentary haven and sought for the soft sound of breathing somewhere by her ear. She brought it close and listened, grazed the tepid skin of his neck or wrists in a sudden wave of paranoia, before returning to her odd position on the trodden grass.

The crack of down offered as much solace as it did pain. Edrei could feel the pang of exhaustion in every joint, every limb, every muscle she used to hold herself propped up against the coarse tree bark so she did not fall prey to slumber. No, she could not. They were too close to danger, too far from safety, and in perspective, she was alone in defending the two of them. The thoughts were consuming her, and in that moment, there was nothing more she pined for than to forget.

Amber eyes sought hers in the dim light, seemingly just enough for his gaze to make out her features. They were still glassy, but more clear than before, alert. His cheeks, now of a healthier pink, gave Edrei the hope that he might be able to hold himself up right when setting off on the horse again.

For a moment, her heart ached at his words. He had expected her to stay, and yet still looked surprised at her not having decided to leave after the exchange the night before. Pursing her lips, Edrei reached for the bottle of water she had kept by her side in the night, now half empty, and extended it almost reluctantly to the man holding his hand out to take it. “We have to leave,” she muttered in an attempt to stir his alertness. “As sweet as the sleep on wet grass has been, we need to go.”

Edrei propped herself up a hint more and brushed the grass and dirt away from her lap. The cape had wrinkled beneath her, and her hair looked everything but tidy. Scooting over to his side, she waited for him to take his last sip, then took the flask back and wet the far corner of her cape with the few droplets left floating by the neck of the bottle. “Whoever poisoned you was not very good at his craft,” she said nonchalantly as she began wiping away the damp curls stuck to his forehead and temples. “But he did a good job of making you look less regal than a dying dog.”

Her eyes panned over the dagger still at his waist. A weapon made for proudly showing off and cutting deep, nonetheless. “We cannot take the risk of people recognizing you,” she eventually said as she finished wiping away the dry fever sweat. “They will not bat an eye for a harlot, but the entirety of King’s Cliff knows what you look like from a distance.” A knife would not do half of what a proper barber’s tools could, but at the very least, it would chip at the royal look that still seemed to surround the Prince like an aura even then. “Should I do the honours... Luka?”

 

[elusivethought]

The water went cool and easy down his throat. Conscious of Edrei’s scrutiny, Luka lowered the bottle before he was truly satiated, hearing how the water sloshed in the nearly empty vessel.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he handed it back, but a frown wrinkled his brow as sarcasm rang out from behind her pursed lips.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then Edrei surprised him once more, wetting her cloak and smoothing the fabric over his forehead.

Luka sighed into her touch, letting his eyes close as her gentle ministrations cooled his brow and settled something restless within him. Realization dawned on him with the rising sun, and the reality of it clenched at his soul. It’d been a while since he’d been coddled so, tended to with a practical tenderness.

The dying dog comment he could have lived without, though.

Striving to hide his vanity and annoyance, Luka scowled when she eyed his dagger, placing a protective palm on the hilt. He wouldn’t sell this, not if he could help it.

But no. Instead… Luka sputtered at her suggestion.

“You want to cut my hair?” he squeaked, one hand jumping to his unkempt, sweat-damp locks. A shiver ran down his spine, but he wasn’t certain it was because of the brisk morning breeze. His name on her tongue, perhaps. Luka. It sounded like foreign spices tasted -- he wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he needed more to know for certain.

Luka paused, threading his fingers through his hair. No doubt his long, black locks were characteristic of the Taivell line, but he liked them. Women cooed over their curl, over the raven-wing sheen they held in moonlight. Short-cropped hair couldn’t be the same, could it?

“... All right,” Luka relented, nodding. He longed to wash first, embarrassed by his smell, by the sweat clinging to his hair and neck, but he merely shrugged and handed over his knife, hoping she didn’t notice his beet-red ears.

Edrei set to work. Luka squeezed his eyes shut, his emotions sitting high and hot in his throat as hair fell away.

It took forever, and no time at all.

When she was finished, he opened his eyes, squinted at the brilliant light of full morning.

“How do I look?” he asked, a preemptive wince already working its way onto his face.

 

[peritwinkle]

The Prince’s silken black curls slipped between Edrei’s fingers like waves, damp, glistening, as regal as they were wild. From the few times she had tended to her own hair, the girl had learnt quite a bit about how it should look, how the locks should frame the face on a proper cut, and yet with the blank canvas in her hands, she was overwhelmed by questions, wondering where to begin.

With the dagger now in her hand, she glanced over the exposed flesh of his neck, pale and tainted by redness. How could a warrior control his blade? What if, in a moment of disturbance, her dagger fell and sliced the wrong target?

She fought to brush the thoughts away as the silver took its first bite. Little by little, Edrei touched the finely shaved blade over the Prince’s hair, her hand surprisingly steady, and her gaze never flickering from the head propped nervously before her. She could almost feel his eyes shut tight and hear his thoughts cursing her if she dared to chip away too much of his precious raven treasure.

When she was done, the grass below them was coated in a thin black that had managed to spread over the rims of her coat and skirt. Edrei unclasped her fingers from around the embellished hilt of the dagger and set it in Luka’s palm so he could take a peek at his reflection. “Ravishing,” she murmured, a soft smile at the corners of her lips for a brief moment.

She doubted the different cut would do much to shroud him from the eyes of someone who did know him, but might keep suspicions away from those who had heard the news of the Prince’s abrupt disappearance. She wanted to hope that the farther away they got from the Capital, the fewer people would truly mind looking for the runaway noble.

With a gentle sigh through her nose, Edrei pushed herself back up on her feet and brushed away the hairs that had fallen in her lap. “We will eat on the way,” she said, a sharp tone touching the first word. After a sleepless night, she would need to rely on his strength - or whatever fraction of it was still left - to hold herself up on the back of their horse. “With a bit of luck...” her gaze moved over the sky, “We will reach somewhere warm soon. If the Gods have us in their watch... As they have had me until now.”

A prayer was likely the last thing Luka wanted to hear then, but her mother often prayed in the darkest of times, and she wanted to think that Raella had her mind on them then. That she would breathe power into her to keep going, or to one day come back home, with or without the reason she had left it in the first place.

When Edrei’s green gaze caught Luka’s again, she let it rest over his features one last time, like taking in the colours of a beautiful sunset before they were engulfed by the insatiable darkness. “You are only the broken splinter of a storm-wrecked ship, Luka,” she spoke gravely. “I wish I knew what happened that day. I wish I could give you an answer... But I cannot. I only know that I had to make up for the death augury that showed itself to me that evening in your chambers.”

 

[elusivethought]

Luka squinted at his reflection. Warped as it was by the folded metal, he couldn’t tell much.

“Hmm.” He frowned, neck twisting to read Edrei’s expression. His frown darkened. He had little confidence in her ‘ravishing’ comment, unconvinced by the wicked half-smirk that followed.

Self-conscious, he brushed his fingers through his hair, giving the shorter strands experimental tugs. It curled tighter now, coiling in on itself as if afraid of the shears.

Edrei distracted Luka and his vain musings when she rose, halfway ordering him around. He might have been offended, if it wasn’t for her earnest gaze and a sudden, grave vulnerability.

He swallowed, uncertain at her words. The exchange felt awkward, as though he’d received another person’s gift. “Thank you,” he said. A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “I am not dead yet, thanks to you.

“But you didn’t sleep,” he observed, jaw hanging loose as his eyes roved her face. She must have stayed up all night. Warmth slipped down to the base of his spine at the thought. “Why don’t you sit up front?” he asked, nodding to the horse. “You can lean against me. I won’t let you fall.”

He sighed. Another day or two in bed would have improved his strength tenfold. As it was, exhaustion weighed his eyelids, illness set a deep ache in his bones, and when he stood, his muscles trembled as if he’d trained for days on end.

But when they mounted, Luka took the rear seat, handling the reins and bracketing Edrei with his arms. When the food was unwrapped, the prince ate sparingly, his stomach hard with cramps. Despite his efforts, he only managed a few mouthfuls before nausea had him shaking his head.

They rode. The sun climbed higher in the sky, shining heat into the blanket Luka had wrapped around his shoulders. Silence reigned between them, a hallowed quietude that Luka was loath to break.

At one point, Edrei dozed. She slumped against his chest, head lolling, rosebud lips parted in light slumber. A balmy warmth spread through him where they touched, his muscles stone-still as if a rare butterfly had lit on the tip of his nose. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to breathe.

Green moss soon sprung up along the rocks, and the distant roar of water broke through the trees. Luka pulled at the reins, slowing their mount and surveying the area. Midday sunlight dappled the leafy ground, dusting the autumn browns and oranges with a brilliant gold. He paused, listening. Not a whisper of conflict came upon the wind.

“Edrei?” Luka whispered, unsure if she was awake. He clicked his tongue at the horse, stilling its curious ambling. “Edrei?” he tried again. “I think there’s water.”

 

[peritwinkle]

There was no denying she was fatigued from a cold, sleepless night. Edrei could only give Luka a dry smirk from the corner of her mouth at his observation as a confirmation, but she knew it would do little to ease the guilt. ‘Perhaps he is human after all,’ she joked in her mind, shaking her head at the thought. Of course he was. Anyone who felt the cold tendrils of death upon their skin could be called such.

She decided it would be best if she took his offer to rest against him for a while. Dozing off on horseback did not sound so appealing, but it was better than nothing. At the very least, she could close her eyes in peace, knowing she could feel him breathe beneath her, feel his heart beat against her back. The Gods had been kind enough to not let her wander alone.

They found their place easily as they began riding away. His arms around her were secure, the muscles beneath rippling as he clutched the reins with a newly found strength. Edrei slipped her hand beneath the fold of the leather bag attached to the side of the saddle and pulled out a bulk wrapped in linen. Her fingers were deft in undoing the knot, revealing a loaf of slightly dry bread; thankfully, the rain water had not gotten to it through the thick fabric.

He was the first to take a bite, and she followed soon after, watching him from the corner of her eye like a child who would choke on his candy. It did not take more than a couple of moments until his insides seemed to protest the bread, and she was quick to wrap it in linen and then slip it back into the leather bag before the scent of it could cause any more trouble.

The day turned into afternoon like a fervent golden shroud falling over the sky, ready to drown into the horizon come afternoon. Pain mingled with hunger, but together managed to overshadow fear. Inbetween the moments she managed to shut her lids and doze into darkness, Edrei only thought of home with longing, but patient desire. It now already felt like a distant dream, one she could afford to let her thoughts float towards only for brief moments, before returning to the present and pointing towards the future.

She had gotten used to feeling Luka pressed to her back by the time he called her from her dreamless sleep. The position she found herself in was far from comfortable, but somehow managed to bring more comfort than a blanket on a featherbed.

With a bit of a fight, Edrei pulled herself up straight on the back of their horse and sighed. She could hear the murmur of a pearling river nearby, and suddenly came to know thirst and hunger yet again. “Good,” she said, still dizzy from the short slumber. “Good... We won’t stay for long. We will fill our bottle and clean ourselves. But not for long.”

Her words felt strange on her tongue, and as she slipped from above and dug her soles into the mossy ground, reality only felt like a vivid dream. How long had she been going in and out of sleep for? Was it midday, or was the sun of late autumn toying with her mind?

A narrow stream danced over a line of rocks a few steps away from where they stood. The smell reminded her of her home, long before they came to the Capital, but she could not truly pinpoint it in the early afternoon breeze. She looked back to the Prince, then took a couple of steps towards the running water and fell down on her knees by its rim. “Cold,” she murmured, letting her fingers run over the surface. “We must be far away from the shore, then. Safe, perhaps. I would call it luck, or maybe good Dion didn’t want us running into your Lord’s men so soon.”

She let the cape slip from her shoulders and fall on the damp grass beneath her. Cold fingers touched her shoulder, and she took a deep breath, before lowering the fabric of her dress just enough to dampen her collar and wash away some of the dirt the wind had blown onto her through the previous night.

 

[elusivethought]

Despite her disreputable occupation, there was a worldliness to Edrei that had Luka looking to her for help, looking to her for a gravity and a wisdom he somehow lacked. He nodded, easily deferring to her judgement. A part of him was secretly relieved for her tentative leadership, for the decisiveness she wielded like a weapon in the midst of poison and panic.

He bit his lip, chewed at it thoughtfully. Too much of that imperative tone might be a venom of its own.

Luka dismounted first, assisting in her descent from the saddle with shy hands and timid eyes. Along with the determined set of her jaw, there was a softness to her edges he couldn’t place. Curiosity clawed at his insides, but it felt wrong to stare, to scrutinize her like he might a castle wall for weak spots.

He blinked, embarrassed. Such quick judgements, and the harsh criticisms that went with them, were meant for golden halls and simpering courts — not for steely-eyed girls who kept watch over poisoned princes.

She undressed. Or, started to. Luka averted his eyes, heart stuttering at the pale slip of flesh he saw. The view sent him back to two nights ago, when she’d slipped out of her silks and left him stammering.

Luka swallowed. His collar felt hot. He bent towards the water, suddenly keen on a cool bath. He dunked few fingers beneath the surface and gave them an experimental wiggle before shaking his head and shoving them back in his cloak.

The water was cold. The wind, eager for winter, nipped at his ears and nose. Still, the last thing Luka wanted was chills and chafing from wet fabric. Gritting his teeth, he shucked off his top layers, shedding the warm fabric till his shoulders and chest were bare.

He stared down the water, glowering at its icy blue depths.

Jaw set, he knelt and dunked his head in.

Needles of pain pierced his skin, setting his teeth aching. He combed his fingers through his newly-trimmed hair and scouring his face with his palms.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“Gods, that’s freezing,” he stammered as he re-emerged, gooseflesh spreading down his arms. But the cold set the fever spots fading from his cheeks, and the sweat of fear and death washed from him in his vigorous scrubbing.

Shivering, skin raw and pink and glistening, Luka stood. “Better,” he said, flinging the water from his hands before shrugging his clothes back on.

“We need food,” he said rather obviously, throwing his cloak over his shoulders and huddling in the warmth. His stomach churned at the thought of a real meal. Dry, crusted bread didn’t count. “Is there an inn nearby?”

 

[peritwinkle]

The cold water breathed some life back into Edrei and took away the fatigue that had been pulling her lids down like boulders. It was far from pleasant in a day of early winter; Luka confirmed the discomfort with a lively shudder, but took what was given to him without protesting. She knew he did not like the crumbly bread. She knew he did not like the brisk wind, but they could do naught but endure until they placed a good distance between themselves and the search party from the Capital.

In the bright light of noon, the Prince’s skin looked like it was dripping in gold. She could see every muscle ripple beneath his now exposed flesh, the fine hairs on his arm rising with each piercing shudder. She had seen men undress before, many times, pacing about the foyer of her mother’s brothel, but the sight before her was different. He did not look menacing, but vulnerable; not yearning, but recluse.

He was a painting she could only watch, in silence, but not touch, in the fear of tainting it.

How could something that looked so strong, appear to be so defenseless?

Hooves brushed against the grass, and Edrei watched as their steed, weakened in the knees, lowered its head to sip from the river. “We never really gave him a proper name,” she murmured, watching the creature move. “We used to call him Boy. Sounds so foolish now, but I lacked imagination as a child.” She chuckled and let her fingers graze its neck.

She followed his form as he almost scurried away from the bitterly cold water and slipped back into his garments. There was nothing she longed for more than a comfortable bed and warm food. “I know these hills just as well as you do,” Edrei muttered as she rose and adjusted the decolletage of her dress. “I doubt there is an inn nearby... And even if it was, we cannot risk you being seen in a secluded place, so close to King’s Cliff.”

Her eyes flickered to the sword at his hip and gave him a disheartened chuckle. “Unless you can hunt with that...” They would be lucky if they even spotted a hare, but she doubted he had the agility to hunt one down with a blade. She looked behind her, at their steed still thirstily drinking from the pearling stream. “At least Boy has food... Boy... Sounds stupid. He deserves a better name.”

The breeze began blowing more vigurously, disturbing the freshly trimmed curls on Luka’s head and rustling loudly through the tall, dried grass. It almost sounded like blades, cutting mercilessly, digging into the dampened ground, sqashing the moss beneath it.

Just like footsteps.

Within a moment, Edrei’s heart sunk like a stone in a river. Green gaze scrutinized the waving land, from light to shade, rock to bush, waiting, patiently. Behind them, the horse sneered, digging its hooves into the sand, and took a few steps back from the water.

In the close distance, three silhouettes emerged from behind the hill, each followed by burly steeds encumbered with empty scabbards and brimming bags. Soon enough, another two faces popped from behind, adding to a small party of five leather-armoured men, neither old nor young, by the wrinkles only rippling at the corners of their eyes and lips. In their hands flickered steel, good steel, which they gripped like sell-sword brutes.

Edrei did not dare to look away from them. Not even to Luka, who now stood way too far from her liking, not anywhere within the reach of an arm. She was frozen in the ground, pinned like a pylon, watching, waiting, calculating.

“The Gods are with us yet again it seems,” the one closest to them spoke. His voice was rough, husky like a wounded man’s. His left hand held on to something beneath his jacket, by the spleen, while another toyed with the hilt of his sword. “A rich boy... And his whore. You’ve lost your way?" he chuckled. "The Prince’s coronation is the other way. Although if you are heading North, I could assume you are in no hurry to get anywhere. A good steed gone to waste.”

 

[elusivethought]

‘Boy’ was a silly name for a horse, but Luka didn’t say so. He was more preoccupied with the fact there would be no inn, and likely no food.

He sulked, shivering. He’d felt Edrei’s eyes on him while he dressed. Her inspection elicited a faint pink blush, but he reminded himself he’d been recently poisoned. No doubt she watched for dizziness, shortness of breath, nausea.

He’d been distracted. She was lovely, even with hair tousled and eyes clouded with sleep. It was hard to look away, and he found himself caught in the color of her nostalgia when strangers approached.

Luka froze, pulse jolting. Danger clouded the air like mist, choking the breeze. Their gazes were hungry, their fingers itching, their swords wicked sharp.

Their words were worse.

Anger boiled in Luka’s veins, setting a red haze over his vision. Perhaps Edrei was a whore, but they didn’t know that. It was a hasty and tired insult, with more bark than bite.

But Edrei had saved Luka. And he saw where their eyes lingered on her.

“Cousin,” Luka corrected, tone laced with poison. He glanced at Edrei, deciding that “wife” was too presumptuous and “sister” too improbable.

He reached down to adjust his boots, sliding his ring off and letting it slip down into the heel.

“You can have our steed,” Luka said as he rose, gesturing to the horse. “Stubborn. Bites.” With mincing steps, he moved towards Edrei. He scrutinized their strong, well-muscled stallions. “We had two till he snapped the skin off of my mare. She died last week.”

He was beside Edrei now. His wide stance was a hint too protective to be casual, his eyes too flinty to be friendly.

Five against two were undesirable odds. But Luka kept his hand firm on the hilt of his sword, knuckles white.

The men exchanged glances, unconvinced.

“Perhaps we’ll have her instead,” the first one sneered, drawing his weapon.

“Like hell,” growled Luka, and he raised his sword, preparing for the strike.

It came fast, with the screaming of steel and a shudder of muscle, Luka’s aching bones rattling beneath the blow. Yet his training and his broad stature had him at an advantage, parrying only a few thrusts before slicing a fatal blow deep along the man’s thigh.

Bright red blood painted his leather breeches, pooled onto the grass. The greedy ground drank it up.

The first man fell.

“Edrei,” Luka said. He unhooked his knife from his belt and offered it to her handle first. “Take it.”

The steel shook in his fist.

A second man approached, his sword unsheathed, his teeth bared.

“Take it,” Luka hissed at Edrei, uncertain if she was spooked or hadn’t heard him.

 

[peritwinkle]

Edrei watched the exchange with caution, her eyes hopping from one face to the other with every subtle threat they passed around the tight circle. The strange men gathered around them, their eyes thirsty and their fingers restless around the hilts of their swords. It made it clear that they were not there to negotiate, or at least not on terms they would happily abide by.

With the corner of her eye, Edrei noticed Luka’s artful attempt at hiding hiding his ring with an innocent adjustment of his boot. He drew closer, and she could feel her heart tighten, not only with her fear, but with the weight of tension she felt radiating from him. His muscles poppled underneath his skin, protective like a lion pinned before its cub.

He wouldn’t let the beasts have it.

A first sword emerged from the ranks and struck the nearest target. Luka’s blade parred with a piercing clink, floating above his head at inches from the tip of his nose, before slicing against the enemy’s steel and finally reaching soft flesh. A first man fell, at the expense of the Prince’s strength, now shuddering in the hold of his own weight.

His voice rung emptily in the breeze, like an echo she could not distinguish. Edrei watched, searched to take in every movement, every chance she had to pull him from their range. Another shout, and this once, she shifted her attention to the glint of steel in his hand, holding it out to her like the key to safety. It was a dance she did not know the steps to, but could not refuse. Not then, not when he was too weak to fight for the both of them.

Her hand gripped the hilt and she took a step back as the wave emerged. With one of their own down, they seemed to have taken it as a greater danger. Edrei saw the hunger in their eyes as they lay on the embellished weapon in Luka’s hands, the doubt, the questions that might play in their heads like flames. It was unusual to see a lion in the woods of Southern Viria.

A breath touched her neck, and as Edrei turned, she felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulders and pin her back to something soft and cold. She wiggled in the grip, sole as the other hand was occupied by a sword, and she stuck the pointy end of her own into the flesh behind her. The bear groaned loudly, letting go of its prey, and bent to hold the pool of blood draining from its spleen. Inbetween rays of glamoring silver, yet another one fell to Luka’s hands, but far too slowly, with too much of a fight for her to hope another would follow soon.

She glanced back at the man crawling on the ground, spitting viscous blood, then to the circle of death around the Prince still fighting fervently. One of the rogues raised his sword first, but the ample movement was easily parried, yet as Luka’s blade was taken with another, the other by his side emerged menacingly, with his own drawn and ready to strike.

“Don’t touch him! Don’t-“

Metal kissed flesh, drank it thirstily and dug as deep as a fang. The man turned with a growl and gritted teeth, and with a long wave of his hand, he jabbed his knuckles into Edrei’s jaw. She fell, her cape engulfing her like a wave, and as she peeked from behind the hood, she saw his face come towards her, touched by pain and wrath and an ardent confusion. He prodded the heel of his boot into the back of her knee, a deafening hit, burying it an inch into the soft moss beneath. Edrei let out a harrowing scream and tried to crawl away on her elbows, but the cape seemed to pull her down.

There was no dagger. She could not see Luka. In her ears she could hear the throb of her heart and feel the thundering pain in her knee.

Perhaps she had saved him.

 

[elusivethought]

Edrei’s scream sent shivers down his spine. Luka risked a glance at her and realized he only had one opponent left, his gifted knife having sliced through one man’s stomach.

He frowned, panting. The last man stood above Edrei, sword in hand.

Screaming, Luka surged forward, terror rising in him as his own blade rose, falling hard along the last man’s neck.

The enemy fell hard, gasping as he fell along the grass and bled his life out into the river.

Luka’s vision blurred. He scratched at his shoulder, his fingers coming back wet with blood. Just a scratch, perhaps, but he’d been hit at the base of his neck, right by his shoulder.

The blood glistened on Luka’s fingertips. His stomach somersaulted.

“Edrei,” Luka gasped, terror high in his throat. “Edrei, I—”

He twisted, violently throwing up until his breakfast was gone and his belly ached.

Luka rose, swaying, his knees wobbly.

“Are you all right?” he asked, mincing his way over to Edrei. Her hood had tumbled over her head, spiking his anxiety as her prone, masked form left him guessing.

Heart hammering, the prince pulled back the fabric.

He blew out a sigh. Edrei was alive. But —

“Your face,” Luka gasped, seeing a bright bruise blossom across her jaw. His fingers brushed along the inflamed redness, fury boiling beneath his breastbone.

Teeth clenched, Luka scrambled to the river. With a wince, he tugged out a handkerchief and thrust it in the water, letting his trembling fingers tingle in the cold. He shivered as he wrung it out and stumbled to Edrei.

Luka knelt beside her, gently pressing the cloth to her jaw. “Can you walk?” he asked, eyeing the distant wagons.

 

[peritwinkle]

Pain plummeted through every bone shuddering beneath Edrei’s skin, her muscles twitching and shrivelling as she tried to move. The cold moss offered some relief, but only managed to scratch the very surface of the damage done. She could feel her knee joint swell beneath the weight of the phantom heel still pressed into it.

She had been breathing scarcely against her shround until a hand moved it, and Luka’s eyes, muddled as they were, grazed over her with anger dripping from his pupils. She felt his fingers brush against her jaw, and for a moment, she wondered what he was seeing right then. Was she disfigured, red and swollen? Was she grisly, bruished enough to diminish whatever youthful beauty still hung to her?

She was holding back a sob that was scratching painfully at her throat. Rolling over just slightly, she extended her knee to rest against the damp ground beneath and let Luka return the attention she had given him the night before. Her cheeks were wet, not only tasting of river water, but of salt and pain, only growing more bitter at the thought that she would have to get up.

“We have to go,” she murmured, voice shaky. He was sick and wounded, his hands stained by either the enemy’s blood or his own. It was not a question she wished to know the answer to just yet. “We have to go,” she repeated, and glanced over to the horses without riders, frightened and waiting.

If the Gods had mercy, perhaps their suffering would be paid with food and clean flasks. Another blanket, or a bow, to keep them through the night for another few days. “Go see” she gestured with her chin towards the steeds and looked over to Luka. “I don’t think it’s broken.” Her knee hurt, throbbed, but she would find it within her to straighten it and ride.

The men laid limp by the river were a sickening sight, but Edrei made an effort to ignore the scenery in favour of focusing on getting up. One look around, and she grabbed the nearest sword, now bloodied, a makeshift crane that might offer enough support until she reached her horse. Slowly, she placed her left leg beneath her and, pushing against the moss, she leaned against it and propelled herself up on her feet. Blood drained like a stream into her soles, stopping at the knee like water in a tight flask. She let out a grunt stifled between her gritted teeth and leaned against the hilt for one step, then another, whilst pitifully dragging her boot on the ground.

“Hurry,” she sighed as she made her way closer to her horse. The creature shook its head and whiffed, visibly nervous, and moved away from Edrei’s attempted touch. And she could not blame it. Even with their sudden victory over the band of thieves, they were still in plain sight, and the hills seemingly had done little to shield them from possible enemies.

The troops of King’s Cliff moved much faster than a horse carrying two riders.

 

[elusivethought]

Edrei’s words trembled. Luka frowned at her insistence, his fist full of handkerchief falling. He knew she was right yet hated the reality of it.

He nodded. “I know,” he said, tone defeated. “I know.”

Biting his tongue, Luka stumbled back to the river, swiping angrily at his wet eyes before dabbing at his cut. Cold water trickled down his front and back, but the wound barely stung. It was shallow. He’d heal.

At the sound of a horse sighing, he turned.

“He’s only spooked,” Luka told Edrei as he approached, but he sent a scrutinizing gaze over the other horses before nodding to a piebald mare and her aimless grazing. “She’ll do better for you, Edrei.”

Only then did Luka realize Edrei likely intended to hobble her way there herself.

Using a sword as a cane.

Luka started.

“You’re going to fall using that.” He shook his head, snatching the sword from her grasp and flinging it away. “I will fashion you a walking stick later.”

Sighing himself, the prince threw her arm over his shoulder and circled his own around her waist. It was warm by her side, the freezing wind impeded by the set of her determined shoulders and the wool of her thick cloak.

“Thank you,” he said, hurrying their pace until they reached the mare. “For saving my life. Again.”

Smiling, Luka held out his hand to the horse palm up. She glanced up and walked forward, sniffing it for sugar. The mare’s hot breath sent goosepimples up his arm.

“I’ve nothing for you now,” he lamented, “but I can promise you treats soon if you’ll carry my friend.” Luka motioned for Edrei to stroke the beast, letting his own free hand smooth along the mare’s neck.

Once the two were properly acquainted, Luka lifted Edrei into the saddle, guiding her injured leg gently towards the proper position with profuse apologies.

He handed her the reins. Their fingers brushed.

Another tingle slipped down his spine.

“I shall see what we can salvage,” he said, clearing his throat, “then we’ll ride.” Luka glanced over his shoulder to squint between the trees. No one else. Yet.

He discovered a bow and a quiver of arrows, a hunting knife, two bedrolls, water, one flask of sour liquor, and a knapsack filled with food. None of it was of a quality Luka was accustomed to, but that was likely why they’d been attacked in the first place.

He refilled the flask with river water, wrinkling his nose at the liquid he’d dumped.

His eyes avoided the dead.

“Would you like to lead?” Luka asked her as he swung into the saddle, though he was prepared to choose a path himself if necessary.

 

[peritwinkle]

Edrei was not surprised by the Prince’s last minute chivalry as he came towards her to offer his shoulder. Indeed, the sword made for a terrible crane, but she needed nothing more to merely crawl through the moss towards her steed. When even that was denied in favour of another, the woman made an effort not to protest it. Perhaps he was right, but she was not accustomed to riding other horses than her own Boy, and even he proved difficult to man.

“Are you good at woodworking too, now?” Edrei let out a sigh as she rested half of her weight against him. He was slightly damp with sweat, cold were her hand touched his flesh, but otherwise much more comfortable than an iron hilt. “I need none,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “It isn’t broken. It only hurts... When I lean on it too much.”

The bitterness was only a mask for the terror that still trembled inside her, Edrei knew, for she was a good liar when it came to pain. It took a deep swallow and a cough to rid her throat of the throbbing lump, and soon it was only her eyes that were still glistening from the agonizing effort.

‘Thank you.’ The genuineness of the word sounded almost foreign to her, not only coming from a man of his title, but given their current circumstances. Was he welcome? Had it been no trouble? There was nothing Edrei could say to him back, for even she wondered if saving him had been a good choice. So far, it had only earned her a sprained knee and an unsightly bruise on her jaw.

Luka’s hand fell around her waist like a fitted belt. She was almost disappointed when he released her from his hold and guided her up ontop the mare. “It seems to like you more than me,” the girl smiled softly as she ran her fingers over its mane, a weak curl from the corners of her lips, before her expression turned into an aching grimace. She made an effort to settle herself on the saddle, the absence of another by her side having chipped away at the feeling of balance.

Before he could turn to look through the remains, Edrei’s fingers brushed over his gently, a last attempt at easing his stress. “Don’t take too long. There could be more where that came from.” With the reins secure in her hands, she wanted nothing more but to set off, ignoring the pain in her right knee. She let her gaze follow him as he moved about the field, scrutinizing every bag or chest with a fervent dedication, all whilst blood trickled from the wound by his neck down his spine and staining his embroidered shirt.

Looking down, her own palms were stained crimson, and for a moment, she was tempted to ask about his cut, but quickly decided against it for perhaps the rush of it all was keeping him alert. “We have to ride North,” she answered, her head lowered, but her voice much more steady than before. She was beginning to get accustomed to the pain. “Follow the shore... We might be lucky enough to reach Cladach by tomorrow, if we can last so long. Nobody there will bother enough to figure out who we are.”

And frankly, she was willing to ride restless for another week if it meant avoiding such nightmare striking them again. She could watch over him again if he was to doze off, she knew she had it in her.

She had only been there once, back in her childhood when her mother had taken the two of them to the Capital for the first time. She had resented it - the crowds, the smell of rotten fish and grimy sailors, all merged into an amalgam quite the opposite of her first home. Now, the memory of it did not ring too far off from King’s Cliff itself.

 

[elusivethought]

Once the sun sank beneath the horizon, Luka guided their horses to a halt. He avoided Edrei’s gaze, uncertain what terror he might find there.

He had to admit she’d been brave so far. Even the night they’d met, Edrei had commanded the situation, faltering only when her vision had spooked her. Then her sinuous grace had hardened to steel, eyes flickering with fear and fire.

Luka had chanced many glances her way during their ride, hazarding guesses as to what she was now.

Stubborn was the verdict.

“Careful,” he advised as he lifted her down, his arms gentle as her leg swung over the saddle.

“No fire yet?” he guessed as he scrutinized the gaps in the trees, listening for the pound of hooves beyond the rush of distant waves. Puffing warm breath into his hands, Luka rubbed down the horses and led them away, finding a nook in a small rock face with decent shelter for a camp.

“Might I see your leg?” Luka asked once they’d settled, disliking her limp, whether from stiffness or pain. “I’m no healer but I’m also no stranger to leg injuries. I—”

Frowning, he looked up.

Snow drifted down from the sky. It was a wet, uncertain snow, melting into mud once it fell onto the leaves. The clouds were thin too, a patchy, threadbare quilt over a panoply of stars. Still, Luka shook his head in disapproval, drawing his cloak in when a rogue wind tugged at the corners.

He smiled at Edrei. “I have first watch,” he said, claiming the spot before she could. “There’s no need for argument, I won’t hesitate to wake you.” And he wouldn’t. Gods knew he’d wake her up after only an hour or two, but she’d have some rest. At least that he would ensure.

“I command it,” he added in his best regal tone, trying on another grin as he rummaged through their stolen food. His own stomach uncertain, Luka handed over the best finds to Edrei, nibbling on unleavened bread.

“After all,” the prince continued, mouth quirking into a mischievous smile, “how else will I conceal that a forest spirit does my woodworking for me in exchange for midnight secrets?”

 

[peritwinkle]

The night had fallen like a shroud, gloomy and cold, damp as the air was tainted with the taste of the sea. They were somewhere close to the shore, treading a rocky path speckled with trees, but not enough to call a forest. As wild as it was, it felt all the more inviting. Even if there were souls roaming those lands, Edrei doubted they would find them in the pitch darkness.

She stopped her horse with a gentle kick as Luka’s own came to a halt. The break in their ride stirred her awake from her exhausted trance; frankly, she was surprised she had lasted that long. The lump in her throat recurring every now and then, whenever she made an ill-fated movement of her right leg, kept her sitting straight in her saddle.

As Luka’s hands came around her waist, Edrei made an effort to put as much of her own weight on her healthy leg. His arms felt much stronger now, but she was still reluctant about forcing that strength out of him. She frowned, grunted slightly behind her pursed lips and, letting out a pained breath, she let herself drop on the wet grass. She sunk slightly into the mud beneath, but the cold stone met her soles quickly, and with Luka’s support, she was able to regain her balance on the one good foot.

“We can do without a fire,” the girl murmured as she limped her way to a nook dug in the stone. “It’s not as cold... We’ll use our bedrolls, now.” They were barely enough to shield them from the polar breeze, but they had to take what was thrown at them. The encounter with the thieves had been a curse and a blessing.

Yet Luka’s abrupt stop made Edrei lift her eyes towards the sky and saw what looked like flickering stars falling down upon them, quickly devoured by the earth. “It seems like the Gods wish to spite me,” she murmured softly. Then, her gaze turned to him, offering him a weak simper. Winter seemed to have come with his sadness, although Edrei knew he was making an effort not to show it around her. The light in his eyes was genuine, however, and she could do naught but cling to that for hope, herself.

She shook her head at his command, lifting her shoulders in a light shrug and then leaning against the rock behind her. “As you will, your Grace,” she teased back lightly, stretching her hand to take what was given to her. When she saw what he kept from himself, her heart sunk slightly, yet she knew his gut could not hold much after what it had endured. “I will not argue with that,” she said. “I... I could use some sleep, if I could...”

Her hand came to her knee, feeling the swollen shape beneath the fabric of her dress. She bent slightly forward and pulled the dress up to her thigh, the skin on her leg prickling as the cold breeze bit at it.

It was unsightly, but not terrible. Not nearly as bad as it felt, and with blood once again draining to the tips of her toes after the long ride, it felt as though it was pounding, throbbing with a smothered ache. She then moved her hand to her jaw, tapped the bone and let it go, the sharp pain of a bruise telling her it had long left to heal.

Edrei looked up at him, her cheeks reddened and her lips parted, waiting for his verdict. She still had his blood on her hands, and although not there, she felt it still. The question plagued her mind.

“Your shoulder...” she thought to ask then. His lack of complaint was ever so slightly relieving. She had as much knowledge of healing and treatments as any woman did, almost as much as Raella, but what could she do for him then? In the state the two of them were - a trembling King and a disfigured whore- it was as despicable as it was pitiful. “I am sorry, Luka,” she whispered, tears straining her tone again. “I am sorry... This is not what you should be. But I do not know how to fix this... All of this. I don’t know...”

 

[elusivethought]

Luka’s smile, coaxed out by Edrei’s teasing, fell when she displayed her wounds. His frown deepened in concentration as he prodded at the swollen muscle, ears pricked for hisses of pain.

“Not broken, I think,” he assessed in an uncertain voice, straightening, “but you’d do well to keep it elevated. I—”

His mumble broke off, her sorrow setting her words shaking and her eyes swimming with tears.

Something clenched at his chest and twisted.

Then her words finally filtered through the fog, sinking understanding and disbelief deep into his mind.

Luka blinked. It left him punchdrunk, stunned, and reeling.

“Edrei,” Luka said, the edge of her name trembling with a laugh. He shook his head. “I don’t know, either! How should you? How should either of us?” With no warning whatsoever, he stepped forward to envelope her in a warm embrace, his face tucking into her hair. She smelled like sweat, autumn wind, and rosewater. The shape of her felt right in his arms.

“No apologies.” Luka released her with an admonishing raise of his eyebrows, his mouth curving in a smile. He searched her gaze. “We focus on getting someplace safe and warm. Then we regroup. Safe and warm first, yes?”

Fuller somehow, despite his meager meal, Luka hummed tunelessly as he arranged their bedrolls. He spread one out for sleeping and kept one wrapped to place beneath Edrei’s knee.
Luka gestured, settling himself onto the ground and spreading his arms. “Sleep by me, in my cloak. It will be warmer.”

His intentions were for her to tuck against his chest, to lay in his lap, their shared body heat keeping them cozy. A bright pink rose on his cheeks as he suggested it, but their need was far greater than his virtue.

 

[peritwinkle]

Luka’s gaze was not reprimanding, and his smile never hinting towards derisive. Instead, it met her sadness and exhaustion with a strange force that even seemed to drain the pain away, chipped at it, at its corners, until it no longer scourged the inside of her chest.

His arms came around her like a storm. Edrei let herself fall into the crook between his shoulders and buried her nose into the blood stained shirt. Smothered sobs left her lips, and she shook which each one of them, tugging at the fabric with a ravenous hunger. She missed it - she missed touching, holding, smelling. She missed feeling someone, and she knew he had missed it too.

It pained her to let go, but she could not find the selfishness to call back for him. Instead, she wapped her arms around her own middle and shook at his words, fighting to drown the sobs and regain a steady breathing. “Nowhere is truly safe anymore... Never again... J-Just... a delay from all of this hell.”

It hurt to deny him of the hope, but she had none to give back. As she lifted her eyes, Edrei watched as the Prince moved about their camp, setting blankets and rolls with a calm, humming. She knew he was fighting as well. She knew what he was thinking, how his heart ached and his gut twisted.

He was just as terrified as she was, but he stayed strong for her.

He set himself down on the ground, his arms welcoming her closer. Swallowing another sob, Edrei crawled over to his side and, leaning gainst her healthy thigh, she pressed her head into his chest again. Her hands came to wrap around him, and she let their capes engulf her form, keeping the warmth in. His scent was gentle, soothing, of pine and oils and blood.

“I hope I will see again, soon,” she whispered softly, her breath mingling with his own warmth. “Something... that will guide us on the right path. That will let me protect you for a while... us.” She clenched her fingers around one of the folds of their blanket and kept it pressed to the two of them, feeling the weight of sleep already begin to tug at her lids.

She did not want to fall asleep just yet. The way he held her over him was too gentle, as though he were holding a frail flower. Although held tightly to his chest, her jaw did not hurt anymore, and her leg lay comfortably over the roll he had fashioned earlier. Almost cautiously, she turned her nose towards the bare of his chest and pressed a peck against his skin, of fervent gratitude, before reclaiming her spot once again.

It did not take long for the night to take away her last droplet of strength.

 

[elusivethought]

Luka breathed deep through Edrei’s sadness, reaching for her however he could. It was disarming to see her so upset, because her steadfast surety kept him sane during his poisoning. But considering her near-death experience, he supposed she was entitled to a moment of weakness.

Heart aching, Luka held her as tight as he dared, not wanting to hurt or smother her. She squirmed, and Luka grimaced, thinking he’d hurt her until—

Until he felt the warm press of her lips, smooth and soft against the skin of his collarbone.

Luka froze. His breath stilled in his chest, a shiver slipping down his spine.

“Edrei?” he whispered, suddenly worried for her sanity. “I…” The prince frowned, squinting down at her slumbering form. Concerned, he waited till her breathing evened out before he leaned forward and pressed his cheek against her forehead.

His scowl deepened. No fever.

The night wore on. Nothing and no one came to disturb them, sanctuary drifting soft and slow and white from the sky. The roads were quiet, the first frost of autumn enough to keep everyone at their hearths.

Once his eyelids grew heavy with sleep he prodded Edrei awake.

“Your turn,” Luka said, voice hoarse and muzzy. Inhibitions slaughtered by sleep, he slid away from her and buried his face into her side, blocking his face from the bitter, cold wind.

Luka tucked his fingers into the warm folds of the fabric they shared. “Wake me at dawn,” he murmured, falling into a sleep quick and sound.

 

[peritwinkle]

The sleep had been dulcet, but far too short. Edrei was woken up by Luka’s voice, already husky and languished after the hours spent watching the sky. It was still of a deep darkness, no glints of light flickering from between the clouds any longer. The wind was cold against her barely covered skin, but gentle enough that she did not suffer too much after leaving the warm nest of the Prince’s embrace.

She kept herself busy, running the tips of her fingers over the fabric of their shared blanket or picking at the dry, damp grass. Every now and then, she closed her eyes and took in the silence, only bothered by Luka’s steady breathing against her side.

Soon enough the sun promised to rise and beaming rays shattered through the clouds to break the night into dawn. Edrei found herself shivering beneath the blanket, which no longer seemed to bear the cold for them after the first snowfall. Nothing had settled on the ground just yet, but it did feel like autumn had turned into winter already.

Viria was in mourning, as well.

“Luka?” Edrei whispered softly, careful not to stir him too much. She liked him quiet, peaceful, when his face was no longer crossed by worry. “Luka... We should go. If we are fast enough we could reach Cladach by noon.” They could ride with more ease now, each to their own horse, and trade their gold for some warm food and a proper place to rest, all far away enough from the Capital to promise at least a night of sweet safety.

She let her palm rest on his shoulder for a moment, a reminder for him that he ought to rise. Her leg was still aching, and roared as she tried to straighten it so she could rise. With a deep breath, Edrei managed to pull herself up, leaning on one foot, whilst the other ached helplessly beneath the folds of her dress.

“Will you..?” Her horse was close, but not enough for her to bear over the hard rocks and reach it alone. Briefly, she wondered if her jaw had bruised. With a touch to the soft skin beneath the cheek, she felt it tighter, warmer, and she knew that the thief’s blow had left a mark.

She waited, her eyes following as he moved and pulled himself out of the dreamless trance. “Perhaps we could find new clothes for ourselves... Yours are stained by blood, and far too nice to belong to a traveler.” Although, she supposed anything he wore would seem more regal - even with his raven locks shortened to a curled bush.

A simper played at the corner of her lips, and she quickly glanced away in thought. “And a new name, for your Highness. Perhaps Edric. We’d match.”

 

[elusivethought]

Luka woke groggy and sullen, his eyes bleary, his mouth downturned.

“Mm?” he answered intelligently, squinting up at Edrei as she gazed down at him. Her hair brushed his cheek, tickling.

He wrinkled his nose. “Mm-hm.” She said something about going, but sleep coaxed him back, willing and wanting into the darkness. He closed his eyes, turning over to burrow into the blankets.

Then Luka paused. Edrei’s hand lay warm on his shoulder, a not-quite shake that prodded him awake. While sleep called, her gentle rousing was better than a servant beating a fist on his door, or an eerily silent chambermaid creeping at the foot of his bed to tend the hearth.

“Right.” Yawning wide and loud and obnoxious, the prince stretched. He groaned, scrubbing at his aching eyes.

At Edrei’s meek question, they shot open and searching.

“Oh, of course,” he said, stumbling in a rush to help her. His gaze narrowed at her hidden leg, perhaps too stiff for a mere bruise. Her jaw bore a nasty mark as well, purple and blue and red.

His frown deepened, but he let her injuries be. They’d see to her proper at Cladach.

“New clothes…” Luka murmured in thought as he lifted her into the saddle, voice strained as his shoulder twinged with pain. “I don’t know. I think I look more distinguished with bloodstains.”

After they’d packed their things, Luka swung onto his horse, shivering in spite of the dawn.

“Edric and Edrei, then?” He tried out her suggestion as they moved forward, his breath misting as he spoke. “Names aren’t meant to match, you understand. Folk would believe we were related.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Here I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, yet now you’re family?”

He polished off his question with a wide grin, the boldness and levity forced but courageous nonetheless.

 

[peritwinkle]

Edrei was amused at Luka’s sudden stirring. She offered him a warm simper, before allowing herself to lean her weight against his shoulders. She knew she was heavy, and he was in pain as well, yet she had no choice but to sacrifice a moment of his strength so she could mount her horse.

After the night of deep sleep, her leg felt even more stiff then, her knee swollen and hard like marble. It only seemed to become more difficult to move, and even despite the Prince’s efforts to lift her carefully and place her on the saddle, it still protested with a roar of pain shivering up her spine when she forced it into the stirrup. “Thank you,” she muttered softly and took hold of the reins. She scoffed at the thought of some strange healer coming too close to the two of them in Cladach.

This time around, it was Luka who packed and got the two of them ready to leave. She felt rather helpless, knowing she would do more harm than good if she dared to bend around to gather their trinkets, but she supposed he looked good enough to do it all himself. He had healed well. The vendor at the apothecary had been blissfully wrong about her attempt at undoing the effects of arsenic with milk and water.

Or, perhaps, the Prince’s reaper had not really planned his demise.

“People ask fewer questions if we say we’re family,” the girl shrugged as she lightly tapped her heel against the side of her horse. “They would not expect that coming from royalty... But I suppose you could come up with a better name for yourself. A better story. Not that we should hang around answering too many curious questions.”



This time around, Edrei let herself ride slightly ahead. The way to Cladach was straight forward, up the shore and towards the black hills extending in the distance. By noon, she could see them clear enough, and the warmth of the sun only breathed more strength into her to keep riding. She did not feel hunger any longer, nor sleep, but the mere wish to see herself surrounded by tall buildings, homes and stores, and get the two of them lost in the crowds.

She supposed that the search party was not far behind them. If they had taken the right route, they would likely reach Cladach by morning. The uncertainty of the Prince’s whereabouts would have slowed them down, lead them the wrong way for a while, until no signs of his lifeless body played by their eyes or ears that day.

Edrei had left her own tracks after visiting the apothecary. They would know if it if they asked the vendor, just as he had caught on to the reason behind the girl’s odd and desperate request.

As the sun began its trot down the stairs of the sky and threatened to disappear below the cliffs, Edrei slowed down, for a mere moment to take in the view. “There,” she muttered finally, her gaze fixated on the old houses rising in the close distance. “I can already smell the hearths of Cladach burning... Clams and vinegar... The port. Can you feel it? Freedom... For a little while.”

She did not wish to waste another moment of pain atop the saddle, and with her last words, she called for her horse to gallop its last steps towards the roaring town.

 

[elusivethought]

“Edric’s fine,” Luka admitted, building their story in his head stone by stone. “Siblings it is. Can I be the eldest?” he asked with a brave grin, his hungry eyes hoping to catch a smile.

It would be the most believable narrative. Edrei’s true age might be a mystery to Luka, but she appeared no more than seven and ten to him. Gorgeous and shapely she might be, but she had youth written in every line of her face. He suspected, a little enviously, that she’d be nearly as beautiful at fifty.

The day’s ride went smoothly, despite their uncertainty. Luka appreciated Edrei’s confidence, following her lead like a loyal hound. As a prince of the realm, Luka had traveled many streets of his kingdom, but if his father hadn’t been going, his mother had had him stuffed in a carriage, sweating or shivering and going stark mad.

So her way was as good as any. And soon it proved the right path, their trotting horses stumbling into the outskirts of Cladach, the smell of brine and smoke rising high in the thin air.

Luka sighed. He nodded to her poetic murmurings, feeling hope warming the pit of his stomach. The scent of hearthfire smoke calmed his nerves, and golden windows gleaming against the rushing twilight, promising bed and board and maybe a warm bath.

Then his companion, apparently impatient, barreled ahead.

“Edrei, wait!” he yelled, laughing as she galloped ahead, leaning forward on his mount to catch up with her.

They slowed once the streets narrowed, even though the cobblestone road was patched under a scrupulous mayor. Wheelbarrows and carts dotted their path, eager faces welcoming them to Cladach and hawking their discounted prices as they passed.

Luka adored it. Here there was no honor guard to peek around, no carriage to squint out of. The friendly denizens of Cladach bestowed him with unknowing smiles, neglecting to bow or blanch or blush at the dirt beneath their fingernails.

“Shall we find an inn?” he asked Edrei, spotting one with a promising name (‘The Nesting Robins’) and stopping before it. They handed their horses off, straightened their clothes, and went inside.

Inside the common room stood halfway full, filled to the brim with laughter, lute song, and the smell of a turning spit. Stomach growling, Luka chanced a deep inhale. Ham, then.

“Good evening, dears,” said a soft, fluting voice. The innkeeper -- a woman of middling age, middling weight, and middling height -- looked askance at Edrei’s bruised jaw and slight limp, but said nothing.

Luka beamed. “Good evening, my lady. Might we have a room and a meal?” He inhaled, indulgent. “It smells wonderful. Perhaps baths too?” Pausing, he chuckled at his own eagerness. “Meal first, please?”

Doing his best to hide the blood on his shoulder, Luka led Edrei to a seat, sighing into a sit beside her.

“Is this all right?” he asked in a whisper, spirits so high he struggled not to whistle along with the melody plucked bright and cheerful on the lute.