With some self-defense training, she could’ve at least protected herself. Instead, she cowered and ran to her husband for aid.
When slowly her mind normalized, she glanced at Procyon. He, too, had fallen asleep with a shallow rise and fall of his chest. Although only hearing the end of their conversation, it seemed she’d arrived just in time to extinguish whatever fire blazed between the two men.
Talking Procyon down from his temper was even more of a challenge than she’d expected. Even now, she wasn’t convinced he believed the truth of what happened in the clearing. She knew he’d keep her chains taut for the rest of the journey, especially in Araes’s presence.
And what of the lieutenant? Save for the sweat glistening on his brow, there hadn’t been even a scratch on his skin. Was he truly that excellent of a fighter, or had Procyon stepped in? His labored breaths suggested the former. It wasn’t just the death wielders that haunted her dreams, though.
The warmth of his body against hers in those startling moments left her breathless, and the curve of his pectoralsfelt like silken marble on her cheek. How confusing it was to decipher such a rebellious feeling. She replayed those moments over and over again, and yet, even amidst terror, her cheeks heated.
The carriage jolted once more, sending Procyon lurching toward her. His elbow cracked against the metal supports in the interior wall.
“Damned fools, can’t even steer their own chariot correctly.” He scowled.
“The roads haven’t yet been repaired from the war, Proc. It isn’t their fault the cobblestone was neglected,” she replied, fixing her eyes on the dark horizon line between passing trees. Bile crept up her throat and left a sharp tang on her tongue. She exhaled fully, suppressing the urge to spill her stomach’s contents over the floor. How much longer until their next stop?
“Always the compassionate soul, little bird.” He smirked, nursing his bruised elbow.
“My king, we need to stop for a moment,” the driver called, knocking on the latched door. Thank Eos above. Finally a moment of peace from this incessant rocking. Procyon grumbled and wiped the crust from his eye.
“Why?” he boomed. In response, the vehicle slowed to a halt. Two sets of boots thudded to the ground and a moment later, the carriage door swung open.
“My apologies, Your Highnesses, but we’ve lost a wheel. The roads are simply too rugged. I can replace it with the spare for now, but there’s a village about a mile or so down the road. We’ll have to make more adequate repairs there,” the driver said, dipping his chin before returning to the shadows of early night.
Tethys didn’t argue. Her calves ached for a stretch. The confines of the chariot were stale and riddled with Procyon’s stench—rotting leaves and sickly sweet spices.
“Let the caravan get some rest, Proc. It’s been a long journey. The horses need water and the staff, a hot meal.”Before her brother could protest, she leapt for the exit.
The chill in the night cooled the warmth from her cheeks as she inhaled it deeply. The drastic shift in climate between realms never failed to amaze her. Unlike her siblings, who could dissipate and reappear a hundred miles away, Tethys didn’t travel much, if at all. In her lifetime, she’d only crossed the Venian border a handful of times. Rather than enriching her with a full sense of wonder as it did in the past, the shift now only offered shockwaves of dread.
She glanced over her shoulder and located the jutting stone wall marking the Venian border. Although only a handful of miles in the distance, her home now felt worlds away.
† † †
Once repaired and a short dinner was served, the caravan resumed its journey.By dawn’s light they approached Algola, a lesser village of the western realm just along the border.
Even behind glass, the cold air prickled Tethys’s nose. Brown-speckled leaves of reds, yellows, and orange dripped from gangly oak branches, blanketing the stone roadway as they traveled.
Tethys’s stomach cramped with the onset of a raging storm. She needed fresh air. Now.
Algola wasn’t much of anything. The single row of stone cottages and fenced enclosures were littered with singe marks and crumbling foundations. It’d been in the direct line of fire during the war, and clearly, none of the Canissaen nobility seemed to care enough to approve its repair.
Lowborn Canissaens lurked in the shadows of their homes, peeking from cracked windowsills or aroundbroken stone hearths.
“The lowborn in these parts can be…small minded,” Procyon said, rising from his seat.
Tethys nodded to her husband, feeling the lingering, curious eyes creep down her spine like spiders, and hedged into the shadows of a near-empty market front. She needed a moment to collect herself, and maybe rid her stomach of their last meal.
“Excuse me,” Procyon’s voice boomed down the narrow, dusty street, nearly quaking the stone foundations with its command. “We’re in need of a wainwright.”
The pounding nausea deafened the rest of his words as Tethys braced herself against a cool brick wall. Repugnant, decaying leaves taunted her nostrils, filling her airway with their rotting smell.
She closed off her nose and focused on shallow, mouthfuls of the chilled autumn air. This place, so starkly contradictory to her own realm, stank of death and frost. She yearned for the wild coastal breeze that carried sweet pea blossoms and fluttering swallowtails, or the shimmering, iridescent trout dancing along the eastern river’s rapids.
She was an outsider here.
Aninvasive speciesto this land.
The Canissaens wouldn’t welcome her or accept her as one of their own. Nor did she want them to. Thiswasn’ther home, this land of dying light and withering forests.
