When I finally left the room the castle had shifted into motion. Vaetharyn had always felt so alive to me. Not in the way that forests or oceans have life, but in a way more deliberate.
I ran my fingers across the stone walls, veined faintly with silver that pulsed when the sun hit them in just the right place. The way everything hummed with a low magic, subtle and constant. Like warmth that I was not ready to yet let go of.
Rhael was already mounted on the horse waiting for me when I approached him, weaving my way through the bustling courtyard trying to move as quickly as I could.
He sat astride his horse, the only one in the entire courtyard, dark riding gear clothed his body, paired with a dark cloak which hung behind him as if he was a knight ready to ride into battle.
For a heartbeat I stood still next to the horse. Just watching him. Once more he was a King, the red haze of fury that had clouded him in the dungeons was gone. His posture was rigid, contained, The King stood amongst his people rather than the man fighting his own demons.
“Mount” he ordered, extending his hand without directly looking at me.
His voice held together by steeled control. Part of me was thankful for it, the other part hated it. Deep inside my being I hated that I had to deal with his two sides, wishing that I could just have him be honest, to know where Istood without playing guessing games. But that was never an option, not as long as he was King.
Pushing the disturbing thoughts from my brain I placed my foot in the stirrup and slid into the saddle in front of him. His hands settled at my waist, steadying me. The difference in his touch was immediate.
Before his hold had been firm but distant. The grip of someone maintaining order. This time his arm curved fully around me. His chest pressed to my back without leaving space between us. I felt the warmth of him through layers of fabric. Felt the quiet rhythm of his breath on my neck, as he nudged the horse to move onwards.
We did not speak of the dungeon on our journey, not once. Instead, we fell into an easy comfortable silence, both of us knowing what lingered inside of the other's mind but not daring to approach the moment that something had changed between us. Neither one of us dared to believe we could make it out of this alive.
We rode for hours, the sky above us streaked with gold by the time we neared the point where the Fae Lands met with the slums. The lands closest to the meeting point were dense with forest, pine trees rising tall and shadowed, on either side of the narrow road. Moss carpeted the ground, and the air carried that sharp, clean scent of sap and earth.
The hum of the magic that usually coated my skin thinned the further we got from Vaetharyn, and I found myself breathing deeper into the softer, colder air. I had not beenback in the slums since I had been sold to Fion, and I had almost forgotten what it was like to breathe in a place that did not suffocate you with magic. My body welcomed it, but my heart sank.
I felt it in my bones, that weakness that everyone else knew about the slums. I had thought them wrong before, imagined it was just the prejudice of creatures against the humans, providing them another reason to see them as less than. However now, crossing that imaginary territorial boundary I almost feel weaker.
“You are tense,” Rhael observed, his arm still banded around my stomach, even after hours of riding.
“I am just trying to remember this place.” I whispered, my hands tightening on the reins. I knew better but it was partially a lie.
I could remember exactly how I had felt the last time I crossed over the border. Scared, alone and angry, being dragged into a world that I did not know and had always been taught to fear.
“You will not be harmed this time, but I will need to take some precautions, to make sure people do not know how valuable you are,” he whispered, his breath fanning over my neck in a way that made every nerve in my body set on fire. I wasn't sure if it was intentional, so I forced my mind to focus on his words rather than his actions.
“What precautions?” I asked, hating the vulnerability in my voice.
“For appearances, your hands will need to be bound. They will need to believe that you are whatyou were sold to me as. A slave.” He explained. My gaze narrowed, I knew this wasn’t going to end the way I wanted.
“And they will not believe that if you leave me unbound?” I questioned, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Humans are very black and white Elara, you know this.” Rhael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
“Not all,” I countered, a small smile playing on my lips. Even though I was scared, it didn’t stop the need to push his buttons.
“No, not all. Some can be very perceptive and difficult if they decide to be.” He smirked, his eyes moving up and down my body.
“I would say more difficult than perceptive”, I whisper with a small smile, hearing him chuckle beside me.
Now we were away from Vaetharyn, Rhael was back to being the man who was easier to like. His shoulders relaxed, he no longer fiddled with the lip ring and his whole body seemed to exhale a breath it constantly held.
“Perhaps” he joked as his free hand began to guide the reins down a narrow side street. His arm finally unwound from my stomach to pull his hood up to cover his face, the dark fabric turning him into a looming figure.
Dusk had already settled over the slums, casting long shadows from buildings that looked like a strong gust of wind could knock them over. Aheaviness settled into my heart as I looked around the place I had once called home.
The slums did not rise from the earth so much as they sagged against it. Buildings leaned into each other like drunks too exhausted to stand alone. Timber frames warped by years of damp, roofs patched with mismatched shingles and rusted tin that always rattled no matter the weather.
Chimneys coughed thick columns of greasy smoke into the sky, creating a dark grey overcast. As if the heavens themselves could not even look down to such a depressing place.
The streets were filled with packed mud and refuse. Narrowed corridors formed by buildings with barely enough room for a person to pass through. The air was thick with the smell of damp, metal and dirt. Everything about it was suffocating.
