Chapter 19
Aeris rode in the lone carriage, its wheels groaning over the damp earth. Around her, the Skaldur warriors rode bareback on thick-maned horses, their bodies near-naked beneath the wind. Cloaks were for the soft; the sun had carved its story into their skin, bronzed and burned into gold. They were sons of trial, born to endurance. Aeris expected no comfort from them, nor did they offer any.
The carriage, broad and gilded with carvings of ravens and knotwork, had been a gift from her father. Stuffed with silks and trinkets she would never wear, never need. A farewell wrapped in gold. He had hidden his sorrow, but she had seen it. His eyes had broken, though his voice had not. The choice had been hers, the right one, but still, it had torn him in two.
Aeris had nearly reached for him at the parting. Had nearly pressed her face to his shoulder like she was still a child. But she feared the tears would come then, wild, choking things. The hug she shared with Selene had already undone her. It clung to her ribs now, a sorrow lodged like a fishbone.
She drew back the woolen curtain and looked behind her. The village fell smaller with each breath. Wooden homes, smoke curling from stone chimneys, and faces—faces she had known since birth—grew distant beneath the pale sky. She would not see them again. No. Not never. One day, she would return. When Zerek fell in battle, or the winds turned against him, or fate, long and slow, found him at last then, maybe, she would come home.
She held that thought like a stone in her palm. It kept her from drifting into grief too deep to surface from.
Zerek had not worn the scowl she'd expected. No fury, no fire. Just the cold stillness of a man who had already counted his gains. Her brothers, brittle-spined and loud in council, had said nothing. If they had ever held plans for battle, they died wordless on their tongues. Aeris doubted they ever had a spine between them. Cowards, the lot. She feared that even if she had remained, even if she had cried for rescue, none in her bloodline would've had the courage to raise a blade for her.
This was the right path, she reaffirmed with a curt nod.
"Little princess," came a voice to her right, amused.
Her eyes snapped toward the speaker, her glare burning. The man rode beside the carriage on a thick-legged horse, his bare chest bronzed from countless suns. He didn't flinch beneath her scorn. If anything, his grin widened. "You carry a great burden," he remarked, eyes flicking over the grand carriage and its excess.
"What is your name, barbarian?" Aeris asked, more out of curiosity than courtesy. She had no desire to continue calling him 'barbarian', not when he had been an irritating presence for quite some time.
"Marlik," he said, still grinning like the gods had cursed his face with it. "And you, little princess, are pricklier than a desert-boar."
"Marlik," she said, voice steady with cold promise, "if you call me little princess again, I will take one of your eyes."
She meant it. Her brothers had belittled her with honeyed insults and mocking tones for years. She would not let this foreign dog do the same.
"Ooh," Marlik and the others jeered, amusement lacing their laughter, their mockery hanging thick in the air. Aeris turned away, ignoring them, refusing to feed their scorn.
"Then what shall I call you, little princess?" The words slithered from Marlik's lips, smug and taunting.
"Call me by my name," Aeris snapped, eyeing him with thinly veiled disgust. No doubt this brute hadn't even bothered to remember it. His blank stare confirmed her suspicion.
"It's Aeris," Zerek's voice cut through from the front. "Call her little princess Aeris." She could hear the grin in his words, like a wolf baring its teeth.
Heat rose in her chest as she swung the carriage door open, standing tall against the wind that whipped at her hair. "Call me that, and see what I call you!"
Zerek tugged his reins lightly, letting his dark horse drift back until he rode in her view. His face was as chiseled and intimidating as before. "What will you call me, little princess Aeris?" he asked, his voice held no fear, only amusement.
"I'll call you mad dog," she growled, voice rising with the wind. "Or mad bastard. I'll think of worse still. Do not expect even a crumb of respect from me."
Zerek laughed, deep and rich, unfazed. "Oh, you will respect me. I won't need to tell you—that is not my worry."
"Worry?" She frowned. What could possibly trouble this beast of a man?
Instead of answering, Zerek merely motioned with his head. Marlik took his cue and spoke. "Little princess Aeris, your treasures will not fare well on long journeys."
Aeris moved to the window, brows furrowing. "Long journeys? Is Skaldur so far?"
Marlik chuckled, shaking his head. "Did you think it lay just beyond the hills of your home? Skaldur is deep within the barren lands, far from the softness of your forests. To reach it swiftly, we must cross the Fery lands."
Aeris's heart quickened. "Elarion?" The name fell from her lips, rich with wonder. Stories of that place had danced through her mind since childhood. The land of magic, where the veil between worlds ran thin. Veyla had been taken there when she was young, and when she returned, she had been changed. Her garments had darkened to match her midnight hair, and the gift of healing magic had settled upon her like fate's whisper. Aeris had long dreamed of seeing it herself, once, with Soren.
His name rose like a storm tide in her chest. Soren.
This ache was deeper than the rest. It didn't scatter like leaves when she willed it. It rooted itself inside her. She had not seen him before she left. Had not said goodbye. But Selene had promised he was alive. That was enough. For now, she would hold to that thread, tight as a knot in her palm.
"…And so, we'll need to offload most of it," Marlik was saying.
Aeris blinked, dragging herself back from her thoughts. She hadn't caught all of what he said, but his meaning rang clear in the silence that followed.
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean—offload my things?"
Zerek turned in his saddle, that cursed smirk etched into his face like a war mark. "We'll send your carriage back to Duskari," he said. "With a message sure to stop your father's heart cold."
He looked far too pleased with himself.
"Are you mad?" Aeris asked, not as an insult, but in honest question. "Why would you send it back?"
"I told you already, princess," he said, voice smooth. "The road through Elarion is heavy with beasts and worse. We ride fast. Only what's necessary comes with us."
What's necessary…
Aeris turned her gaze to the back of the carriage. Silks folded like river waves. Gowns in every color her father could afford, silver trays, jeweled combs, ropes of pearls. Food packed into fine boxes. Everything carefully chosen, meant to comfort her, remind her of home. And then there was the maid—an older woman seated stiffly in the front, clutching her shawl like a prayer.
"I do not understand what you mean by what's necessary," Aeris glared at Zerek, her eyes full of storm.
Without a word, he reached in through the open door. His hand, rough and strong, closed around her wrist.
Before she could react, he pulled her up—clean off the seat and into the air.
A cry tore from her throat. For a breathless moment she thought she'd fall, crushed beneath the turning wheels, but his arms caught her firm. The horse beneath them shifted, muscles rippling, hooves pounding the earth. Zerek's grip was like iron, immovable.
Then he turned his head and roared over the wind, "Send it back with blood."
She couldn't speak. The wind rushed past her ears, pulling at her hair. Behind them, the carriage and everything inside it grew smaller and smaller, swallowed by the dust. She had no choice but to hold on.