SONG VIBE: Sea - BTS

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  SAPHIRA

  The Forest of Blood, Renatus

  With the stallion galloping forward, Saphira hooked her other foot into the stirrup and moved back into the centre of the saddle. She held on with all the strength she had. Tears ran down her cheeks from the dry wind blowing in her eyes; she gasped for air. She clung on, feeling the pounding of Gin’s hooves under her, until her grip slackened from exhaustion.

  As if the beast sensed her state, he slowed to a canter, allowing Saphira to sit in the saddle and rest. She looked up, seeing more of the same forest. A tiny sliver of excitement came to her—I'm finally free.

  Ahead, she saw a clearing in the trees where riders waited, wearing the ash grey of the Ashen Blades. An excited shout rang out as they spotted the black stallion, turning to a low mutter.

  Heart pounding, Saphira drew her veil back over her face. She clipped back the wild pieces of hair that had escaped. She glanced from left to right, noticing the covering of dirt on their faces, the ragged, unwashed state of their clothes and hair.

  These men are exhausted, Saphira thought, They look as though they have come straight from battle.

  Lucian rode forward on a silver-grey horse. His dark hair touched his chin, and he wore a green silken headscarf that kept the long hair from his face. Aside from the mole under his lower lip and below his eye, he had a perfectly symmetrical face, a square jaw, thick eyebrows and long eyelashes. Despite the fresh mud splashed over his clothes, face, and hands, he was handsome in a near-perfect, breathtaking way.

  Above: Lucian arrives.

  In a deep, chesty voice, Lucian spoke rapid clanspeak.

  “I’m sorry,” Saphira said, trying to reply in clanspeak, “I don’t understand you.”

  Without hesitation, Lysander dismounted his chestnut mount. He took the reins from Saphira.

  He wore soft, expensive leathers with a large bow strapped to his back. His facial features were soft and gentle, with a small nose, round cheeks, and long blonde hair braided back and held in place with a carved mahogany pin. He spoke in perfect King’s Common, saying, “Remember us? I’m Sir Lysander, and this is Sir Lucian. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, my Lady.” He gave a small, but elegant bow, flashing an easy, flirty smile.

  Lucian gave Lysander a playful shove and addressed Saphira again. She picked up the word “Nocturne”.

  “You’ll have to excuse this barbarian. He can speak perfect Renatii, but refuses to do so outside of Renatus.” Lysander shielded his arm as Lucian punched him again. Laughing, Lysander translated, “He wants to know where Nocturne is.”

  “He—” Saphira searched for the words in clanspeak and concluded, “—jumped.”

  “He does that a lot.” Lysander shot her an easy, charming smile. “This is our fallback position. He knows where to find us.”

  Saphira's empty stomach lurched, and she felt a wave of morning sickness rushing over her. She moved to dismount.

  Lucian caught her arm, saying in a gentle, soft voice, “Stay.”

  “I need to—” Saphira leaned over the side of her mount and vomited. She slid off the stallion and hunched, dry retching over the forest floor. Uncontrollable tears—brought on from retching too hard—gathered in her eyes, and snot came out of her nose. She hauled again, depositing the foul-smelling contents of her stomach onto the grass, splattering onto Lucian’s mud-soaked boots, and Gin’s hooves.

  The stallion let out a discontented nicker, stamping its hoof into the vomit. The soldiers chuckled as they watched. Lucian silenced them with a sharp glare, ignoring the mess on his boots. He reached for Gin’s reins, holding the horse still and calming it.

  Meanwhile, Lysander crouched over and placed a soft hand on Saphira's back. "It's okay," he murmured.

  Without blinking, Valentino rode over. “Get her a mount!” He commanded.

  “I know just the one,” Lysander replied.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Saphira held back the lump in her throat. Her shoulder ached, bleeding from the scratch of the dragon’s claw. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she was glad that the veil hid her frailty away. She felt another wave of nausea coming over her.

  Dismounting elegantly from a palomino horse, Valentino strode to Saphira and knelt beside her, ignoring the horrid vomit stench. Gently, he slipped his hand under her veil, enough that he could gather the stray locks of hair and pull them away from her mouth.

  “Has the morning sickness been bad?” he asked gently.

  Nodding miserably, Saphira murmured, “It was worse a few weeks ago.”

  “—and your sister? Is she safe?”

  She paused to examine the look of genuine concern in his striking brown eyes. “She was sent straight back to Lux. Why?”

  Valentino simply nodded and melted away as Lysander returned.

  He brought forward a beautiful, lean mare with a deep red chestnut coat. "Her name is Scarlett.” Stroking the animal’s mane, Lysander murmured, “Her rider, Thelonius died in the spawnpit. Treat her well."

  Wiping her mouth and nose with the back of her sleeve, Saphira approached Scarlett, a sobering feeling hitting her. She ran her hand down the coarse chestnut hair of the horse, How many died because of my father's games?

  “She’s a steady girl, one of our best mounts,” Lysander said, “Adjust your leather, then mount.”

  “I...don’t know how to.”

  “Here," said a deep voice from behind.

  Two large, gloved hands, splattered with fresh blood, wrapped around her waist and threw her into Scarlett’s saddle. Saphira looked up and saw Nocturne. Blood had sprayed over his armour, and ash clung to his leathers. He adjusted Saphira’s stirrups, put her feet into place, and then tightened the reins. Saphira longed for him to linger at her side—to hold her, to touch her waist so she knew he was close—but now was not the time for tenderness.

  Lucian and Lysander beckoned over Valentino and Felix.

  Augustus came last, grimacing with pain as he swayed unsteadily in the saddle of his black mount. The arm that Saphira had seen stained black was tucked inside his jacket, fingers twitching slightly as if craving something to hold. His face was drained, almost spectral, and his lower lip was bloodied.

  His squire, and the youngest in the group, Aurelian, was conspicuously absent. Saphira fretted, Is Aurelian okay? Please, Almighty, she prayed, don't let it be that someone else has died because of me.

  Nocturne turned to address five of his Mountain Knights. “I took care of the advance party. He’s cautious—he’ll send a token unit to chase further, but he won’t leave the city unguarded. He’ll try to intercept us with a garrison and the outer Lords. We’ll ride faster than their messengers.” He looked to Lucian with confidence and commanded, “Luce, take our best riders, go as far as you can before you must enter our border. I want you to use the mask to confuse them, lead them away from our trail.”

  “A welcome change from the dreams of ‘spawn.” Lucian’s lips quirked in a half-smile, his fingers absently tapping against the hilt of one of the two blades he carried very carefully by his side. "They won't even know what continent they're on when I'm done."

  “Val and Lye, take divisions three and five. Start with Luce, but split off north-east. I’ll take Saphira with division one up north—August and Felix with me. We’ll all meet back at Firestone. Crassus won’t dare follow up past his borders—not without declaring war on Edwin.”

  "Only one division?" Lysander arched an eyebrow, a slight smirk dancing on his full lips. “Feeling confident, are we?”

  “We’ll travel faster with one." Nocturne gave Gin an affectionate pat on his neck. "They’ll expect her to be with the larger company. We shouldn’t run into any trouble through Flaxen Pass this time of year—” he grinned at Augustus and added, “—not with a local guiding us.” He hooked a foot into Gin’s stirrup and mounted in one smooth motion, saying, “Let’s go—”

  “My Lord!” Saphira’s knuckles were white around the reins as she met Nocturne’s gaze, eyes wide and earnest. “The Duke of Hyland was travelling through the Flaxen Pass.” She hesitated, then felt the words rushing from her lips, “If you’re going north, take Horrocks Pass. It’s unguarded—the previous guard fell to nightspawn. My father said that the new garrison won’t arrive for another day.” Her voice faltered, “…if you can stomach facing nightspawn.”

  Lucian chuckled.

  “Did the Duke say that? I’ll—” August winced, clutching his side. "—I'll get the truthstone."

  “You’ve overstepped your limit, my friend." Nocturne waved his hand. "I doubt Lady Saphira wants to put herself in further danger. If Horrocks Pass is unguarded, it will be crawling with nightspawn, their filth will be everywhere—” he looked down at the swell of Saphira’s belly and grimaced. “Nightspawn or Hyland?”

  “The land itself is still uncorrupted." Valentino kept his voice calm and measured. "If you keep her away from any ‘spawn, she and the baby will be fine.” He directed a gentle smile at Saphira, his eyes softening. “We’ll make sure of it.”

  Above: Valentino is confident, but cautious.

  “We’ve dealt with worse than a few ‘spawn—Hyland is the real threat." Though Felix's tone was confident and light, his fingers rested uneasily on the hilt of his hooked swords. "We can’t face them head-on in our current state.” He smiled, though the joy seemed forced. “Horrocks is the better gamble.”

  “Horrocks it is, then." Nocturne’s features hardened, determination settling in. "We’ll go through the Blood Forest, then take the Smuggler’s Way. Keep your guard up, and don’t engage unless you must.” With a flick of his reins, he urged Gin forward, turning to his knights with a firm nod. “Let’s ride, my brothers.”

  He caught the hint of apprehension still lingering in Saphira’s eyes and, for a moment, softened. Leaning down from his saddle, he placed a hand over hers where it trembled on the reins, his steady touch soothing her. “Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice softer, almost intimate. “We’ll keep you safe.”

  “Th-thank you,” Saphira stuttered, swallowing hard.

  As they rode forward, Nocturne nodded at Felix, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Nocturne kicked Gin, and the stallion cantered to the front of the group. Felix took Nocturne’s place, riding two paces behind her.

  Saphira steeled herself, leaning into the pervasive instinct, He is a stranger, but I feel like I can trust him—that he is looking after me. Now, all I can do is try not to slow him down—to be a burden.

  With a surge of hope, she urged Scarlett forward.