Iyana
That was… there were no words to describe the sensation of connecting with Emmeric. Or maybe there were a few—words like magical, euphoric, rhapsodic.
Iyana could no longer deny Emmeric’s commitment to her, and to their fate. In hindsight, there really was no good reason for her not to trust him, especially after he brought her the numbing draught and gave her his cloak. And broke her out of an evil emperor’s dungeon. And healed her.
Her emotions terrified her, though. As Emmeric held her hand within his calloused palm, it feltright.
However, she instantly forgot those thoughts as Altair placed her in his lap. He stroked the hair off her cheek, and, leaning in softly, he placed his lips on hers. She sighed, grasping his cloak into a fist, and leaned into the kiss. Magic continued to spark through Iyana’s veins, making her injuries disappear. The previous week had been erased. From her body, at least.
“Astalle,” Altair murmured against her mouth. “Come.” Then he was lifting her off the ground, walking into the trees opposite of where Emmeric and Talon had gone to hunt. Soon she heard the soothing babbling of a river. Altair placed her on her feet on the bank of the water, but continued to hold her close, like he was worried she’d collapse without his presence.
“I’m fine, Altair,” she said, running her hand up his arm. “Better than fine, actually.”Physically, was left unsaid.
Closing his eyes, Altair rested his brow on hers, stroking his thumb along her cheek. “Please, my love. Please let me take care of you.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Iyana was still wearing both cloaks, and Altair gently slid his hands under the fabric at her shoulders. The soiled clothing dropped from her body, but his fingers continued to skate down her arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. He inspected her thoroughly, checking that her wounds and injuries had healed completely. Worry was etched into his features, not the heat from when he’d looked at her naked body in the past. Dirt and blood still covered her, with her hair tangled in wild knots. Altair tugged on her hands and waded into the river with her, warming it with his magic. Thankful for the small kindness, she sighed at the pleasant heat lapping at her calves. Such a marked difference from the cold tub—her lungs threatened to seize within her chest at the memory, but Altair’s magic pulsed continuously through their connected hands, calming her frayed nerves.
Taking off his shirt, he wet it, using it as a rag to clear Iyana’s skin of any evidence of her torturous week. As he moved to her back, Altair inhaled sharply, and his fingers brushed lightly against her back. Iyana closed her eyes. “Tell me.”
“My star…”
“Altair, just tell me. Please.”
He continued cleaning her; the rag passing over her back, her arms, her abdomen. She knew he was trying to distract her, so she shot a glare at him over her shoulder. Sighing, he motioned for Iyana to float on her back. Altair knelt behind her, holding her head aloft with his knees, and ran his fingers through her hair to detangle the mess. It took some time, and Iyana was ready to fall asleep under his ministrations, but he finally spoke, his voice deep and limned with pain.
“The flogging.”
She stiffened.
“They were deep, and some scars remain. But they are small, my star, and a testament to your strength and endurance.”
Iyana tipped her head back to better see his face. Altair smiled sadly, his fingers continuing to comb out her hair. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what, my star?”
“For being here,” she echoed his words back to him from the cave. “For not judging me.”
“I would never judge you,” he said, seriously. Suddenly, the mood was too serious. Iyana sensed the conversation veering towards the territory of animportant conversation, and mentally, she was not ready for any revelations or confessions. Whether it involved her experiences, or magic, or their potential relationship. She steered the conversation away.
“Really?” she asked. “What if I told you I talk to animals as if they can understand me?”
The corner of Altair’s lip curled up. “I might judge you a little.” Finally finished with her hair, he extracted his hands and guided her upright. One warm hand rested on Iyana’s waist, the other on the back of her head. They spent a few moments searching each other’s eyes, feeling things out, where things stood after the past week. Until Altair brought her to his chest in a tender hug. Iyana curled her arms around his back, tears suddenly springing forth. For the moment—safe, healed, clean—she allowed herself to break down. Altair held her as she sobbed, stroking her back and making calming noises.
When her cries at last subsided, Altair placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Come on, my love,” he said. “You need to get some sleep.”
Wiping at her face, Iyana pulled away from him. His arms stretched out towards her, unwilling to let her go just yet. “I slept for two days.”
Altair smiled. “That may be so, but the magic of healing is exhausting. You’ll need to recharge your stores.” He picked her up again out of the water, drying her with a rush of warm air. Iyana made a mental note to learn that particular trick. Her days of waiting for her hair to dry after bathing would be over. Altair wrapped her up again in his cloak, enveloping her in his earthy petrichor scent. He promised to make her new clothing in the morning after he rested. They walked back towards their camp, Altair still carrying her despite her protests, leaving Emmeric’s soiled cloak on the banks of the river. Iyana watched the cloak recede into the darkness, a piece of her heart sad she couldn’t keep it.
They continued ambling north at a more meandering pace, attempting to put distance between themselves and Athusia. None of them believed Uther would simply allow Iyana to escape. Somebody would come after them, and the odds were high it would be Prince Zane. Whenever they talked about Zane, Talon became melancholic, and she had to wonder if something was going on between the two. If there was, and Tal had put his safety on the line for her… that meant the world to her.
Iyana had woken up with Altair snuggled behind her, his arm thrown over her waist, and something hard digging into her ass. He seemed to sleep soundly, but when she had reached behind her to touch him, he grabbed her wrist, bringing it back in front of her and tucking her in tighter. Altair’s length still pressed against her and she wiggled in protest of the star’s chivalry, making him groan. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone. Emmeric and Talon had already been up and were eating a small breakfast. Talon had greeted them enthusiastically, whereas Emmeric sipped on terrible coffee saying nothing. Altair lived up to his promise and magicked her some clothing, so now she was sitting comfortably on top of Altair’s horse in breeches and a tunic. Plus her own extremely warm and fuzzy cloak.
The three men must have thought she was crazy as she said hello to each of the horses before they left for the day. Altair’s was a large, sleek black stallion who held his head high with pride. As he should—he was an impressive specimen. Talon said he was the brother of Zane’s horse, Ryunn, and his name was Pryn. Tal’s horse was a smaller, chestnut brown stallion named Lore. And Emmeric had a gorgeous palomino mare, her golden coat shiny in the sunlight, white mane blowing in the wind. She was truly majestic, and it dismayed Iyana to learn no one had learned her name. So Iyana dubbed her Ciri after the Goddess of Day. Once she was properly introduced to each horse, they resumed their journey to an as of yet unknown destination.
Sunshine poured over them as they rode through a lovely, crisp fall day, the air with a bite to it, warning of cooler temperatures to come. The leaves on the trees were all now a gorgeous rainbow of reds, oranges, and yellows, with the pine trees adding in some green. Iyana felt amazing and was buzzing with restrained energy. She assumed the combination of healing herself plus the magic high from connecting with Emmeric was to blame for her current mood. Even her fingernailshad grown back, and she spent longer than necessary observing them, touching them, testing their strength and making sure they were real. Altair clamped an arm down around her stomach in the afternoon.
