SONG VIBE: So Far Away — Agust D (feat. Suran)

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  SAPHIRA

  Silva Sanguinis, Renatus

  The Forest of Blood pressed close around them—dark, wet, and whispering. Droplets clung to every branch and leaf, catching the pale light like tiny shards of glass. The horses moved at a steady pace along the sodden trail, hooves muffled by mud and moss. Saphira sat slumped in her saddle, wrapped in furs that had long since lost their warmth, her veil damp from the mist clinging to the air.

  They had been riding for hours, and every jolt of the horse reverberated through her spine and hips. Her muscles ached. Her fingers had gone stiff from gripping the reins. But she kept her gaze ahead, jaw set, trying to match the stoic silence of the knights who flanked her.

  Still, the water she had drunk earlier had begun to work its way through her. The pressure in her bladder became harder to ignore, a quiet but insistent discomfort that crept beneath the ache of everything else. She shifted in her saddle, hoping the movement would ease the sensation, but it only made it worse.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she turned slightly toward Felix. He rode beside her with an easy air—though his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark forest.

  “Are we stopping soon?”

  “And enjoy a delicious afternoon tea?” Felix snorted.

  “Will there be wine and cakes?” Saphira shot back, some of her old spark flickering through. “Or perhaps carrion and bugs?”

  He laughed—warm and unexpected—and urged Benny forward, the sound of hooves quickening slightly ahead.

  Saphira inquired, “I'm serious. I need to stop.”

  “We’ll stop when we make camp for the night.”

  “I can’t wait until then!”

  “Wait for what—oh.” Felix glanced ahead and said, “Well, we all just pull aside and go on a tree.”

  Saphira shot Felix a withering look—which he understood even through her veil. Felix corrected himself, “I can find a nice bush for you.”

  Saphira rolled her eyes. “That’s very generous.”

  “I can see a good stopping place up ahead—private. Be as quick as you can. Come.” He took Scarlett’s reins, urging both their horses ahead of the main column until they reached a bend in the road. Felix dismounted first, standing by Scarlett’s saddle to steady Saphira as she slid down.

  “Let me help you down,” he said, placing his hands on her waist.

  Saphira felt her cheeks redden as she felt his touch. Nocturne is the only man who has touched me like that, she thought. She batted his hands, but he held firm.

  “Trust me,” he reassured.

  Casting an anxious, sideways look at Nocturne—who rode at the front of the division—she allowed her muscles to relax, and she fell like a stone from the saddle. Steady and strong, Felix caught her, and lowered her to the ground, allowing her to cling onto his neck as she slowly put her weight onto her legs.

  “I…I can’t feel my legs.”

  “You’ll be feeling very saddle sore. It happens to the best of us.” Felix helped Saphira to stand and pointed to the thicket a few paces from the horses.

  Without question, Saphira bustled over to the thicket and pushed her way through the brambles. She glanced behind her to make sure no one had a clear view of her. This is humiliating, Saphira thought, Celestine was right—I don’t belong with these people. She gritted her teeth. I can do this. I’m not weak. She lifted her skirts, so they did not touch the ground and squatted. When she finished, she glanced behind her to make sure no one had seen.

  As she was pushing her way back through the brambles, she heard someone charging in the other way. Nocturne, wearing riding leathers, held back the thicket with his gloved hands, his dark hair framing his angular face, and growled, “Why did we stop?”

  Felix was right behind him, raising a hand in an attempt at discretion. “Her Lady needed to...um…. take care of something.”

  “Sightsee?”

  Felix sighed, leaning closer to whisper, “I made sure the area was secure. Be gentle, Nox.”

  Nocturne scowled, and he beckoned to Saphira. “Nightspawn are crawling over these hills. Don’t stray from Felix.” He stepped toward her, his gloved hand reaching out to push aside a low-hanging branch—and caught the edge of her veil. His fingers lingered for a moment before lifting it slightly, exposing her chin to the chilly air. “Why do you wear this still?"

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  She opened her mouth to reply, but no reply came to her lips. She tried to gently take the veil from his fingers and place it back down over her face.

  “While I was gone, Val told me all about your customs." He held on tight. "If a Renatii woman is married, she must not wear a veil.”

  Saphira stared upwards, her violet eyes narrowing. He is right, she thought, any Renatii husband would be insulted if his wife walked around veiled. She unhooked the pins holding the gossamer in place and pulled it away. She looked to the ground, unable to glance at her husband. I am embarrassed that he is seeing me like this, Saphira thought, I’m bloated. I’m dirty. I've been vomiting non-stop.

  “Look at me,” Nocturne growled.

  Above: "Look at me."

  When she finally mustered the courage to glance upward, she was startled by the intensity of his gaze. His pale olive skin looked almost grey in the dim light. Blood—not his own—was splattered on his cheek, and dark circles framed his umber eyes, but he looked alert and—to Saphira’s horror—slightly bemused.

  "No tricks here." He mused, “That’s the girl I remember marrying.”

  “My sister’s hair is more beautiful," Saphira whispered, "you should have chosen her.”

  “You have never seen a vila. The closer to white their hair is, the more beautiful they are considered.”

  “Vila are not real.” Saphira laughed nervously, “All the Eldritch Folk died out years ago.”

  “Says the girl who lived in a locked tower,” Nocturne retorted. “There are Forest Folk aplenty in the mountains—one more reason for you to stay close. Now, little vila, let’s get moving.”

  He pushed past Saphira, and, with his back turned to the road, unlaced the front of his trousers, placed his left hand on the oak tree for comfort, and relieved himself.

  Eyes widening and cheeks burning, Saphira staggered back to Felix and Scarlett. Her legs ached, feeling as though she still sat in a saddle. Felix boosted Saphira into the saddle, and the group pressed on.

  The Forest of Blood closed in around them, its gnarled trees looming like twisted sentinels. Shadows deepened, slithering through the undergrowth, carrying the whispers of the fallen, their blood shed long ago, crying out. The air grew heavy, laced with the faint, iron-tinged scent of ancient wounds.

  The path narrowed and steepened, demanding effort from both riders and mounts as they pushed upwards. Fatigue hung over the group, yet Felix’s smile seemed impervious to the gruelling journey.

  Saphira’s shoulder throbbed, the wound seeping beneath her clothes. She could feel the sweat plastering her hairline and the ache radiating down her arm. Every time she looked at a soldier, she saw them looking back at her; she covered her face with her hand, trying feebly to shield her unveiled face. Worst of all, she noticed Felix stealing glances at her repeatedly.

  “Paint a picture, it’ll last longer," Saphira muttered.

  She inhaled; they are used to seeing a woman’s face, she reminded herself, it is me who is not used to showing it to strange men. She touched her forehead and felt the grease and sweat of her unwashed face. She took out her waterskin, and after taking a long drink, she wet her handkerchief and cleaned her face.

  “Probably shouldn’t waste water like that," Felix said.

  “I wouldn’t have to worry if you all just stopped staring.”

  “That’s your real hair, right?” Felix shook his head. “I thought it was a trick of the light—maybe your veil—but it’s really purple. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Felix grinned with an easy, infectious smile. “It reminds me of the lilac we have at our farm. You should see it sometime and compare it. I could imagine you hiding in it, almost camouflaged.”

  Saphira touched her braid with a laugh. The taste of the fresh forest air hit her bare skin and floated into her nostrils; she closed her eyes and smiled. “You should see my sister’s hair. Her hair is actually purple—like an amethyst.” She touched a strand, murmuring, “Mine just looks so pale.”

  “No wonder your father wanted to hide you behind a veil,” he laughed, the smile lines around his eyes wrinkling. “I must admit, it is a strange tradition—very different to how we treat women.” His eyes softened. “We have our own traditions. Perhaps you will find them peculiar.”

  “Truly? Tell me.”

  “Every piercing means something." He touched the piercings on his right earlobe. "A piercing here means a man is married or engaged. An obsidian stone on the left earlobe means he’s killed a man.” He touched the small pearl pierced in his helix and said, “A pearl means you’re a father or mother.”

  “Earrings are considered... feminine in Renatus.”

  “If you die on the battlefield, how will someone pay for your burial?” Felix touched the gold studs in the centre of his earlobes. “It’s not jewellery—it’s insurance. When we get to Firestone, you can get yours pierced too.”

  “But I’m not a warrior.”

  “But you’re a wife—and a mother—and I think Nocturne would like it.”

  Before Saphira could respond, Nocturne’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Form up! North!”

  The command rang like steel, and the sound of drawn swords followed. The knights moved as one, forming a tight perimeter. Felix nudged his horse closer to Saphira, shielding her.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered, glancing around anxiously.

  “Shh,” Felix murmured, his voice low but steady.

  The underbrush ahead rustled, and Saphira’s breath hitched. A high-pitched squeal split the air.

  "Nightspawn?!” Saphira yelped.

  “Dinner,” Felix laughed heartily, sheathing his hook sword.

  “Father said Horrocks Pass was full of nightspawn,” Saphira murmured, calming herself.

  “Father? You mean the Duke, right?” Felix muttered with a visceral shudder. “Well…it is full of nightspawn.”

  “We haven’t seen a single one!”

  Felix’s expression darkened, and he lowered his voice. “We’ve been taking care of them quietly.”

  “Oh." Feeling her stomach drop, Saphira nodded soberly. "I'll stay close to the group.”

  “You’re doing a good job,” Felix said, “Remember, it’s our job to kill the ‘spawn. You just need to focus on keeping yourself—and your little one—safe.”

  Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, and she nodded, thinking, To finally be able to talk about the baby out loud... it makes it feel real.

  Just then, the division began moving again.

  Saphira saw what had caused the alarm.

  One of the knights had hog-tied an enormous boar. He pulled the arrow from the pig’s shoulder blade and handed it back to a very self-satisfied archer.

  The forest thickened as they climbed higher, its canopy blotting out the last traces of sunlight. A chill crept into the air, sharp and biting against Saphira’s skin. Shadows stretched long across the uneven ground, and the distant hoots of owls echoed as unseen watchers.

  Felix rode beside her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His finger tapped tensely, despite the easy smile plastered on his face.

  Saphira kept her gaze ahead, her violet eyes searching for Nocturne. I wish you were riding with me—I need you here, so I know everything will be okay.