Song vibe: UGH! - BTS

  ________

  SAPHIRA

  The wilderness, Horrocks Pass

  Saphira followed Nocturne across a steep animal trail that threaded through the pine forest. Overhead, the vivid oranges and pinks of dawn gave way to a striking cerulean sky, teasing a perfect winter’s day. Around her, the cool air was oxygen-rich, almost intoxicating, laced with the peppery, minty fragrance of pine. Despite the aches in her body, she smiled, feeling a giddy sense of freedom as they walked further away from Renatus.

  Nocturne paused under a crab apple tree, its gnarled branches dotted with clusters of tiny fruit. He plucked one and tossed it at her. “Fill your pockets,” he instructed. “We’ll need something to keep you from gnawing on your arm before we reach the valley.”

  “I’d rather gnaw your arm,” Saphira muttered.

  Nocturne paused, giving her a strange look of disbelief. Then he burst out laughing, saying, “Bold of you to assume you could chew through it.”

  Pouting in protest, Saphira gathered the small apples and stuffed them into the makeshift pouches of her filthy skirt. She plucked one and bit into it, savouring the sharp, tart burst of flavour. “Not bad,” she said between bites, her lips puckering slightly.

  “They’re better than starving,” Nocturne replied dryly, though a faint glimmer of amusement danced in his umber eyes.

  Above: They follow the trail by daylight.

  The trail wound downward, the steep slope forcing them to move carefully. Saphira’s boots scraped against loose gravel and twisted roots, but she managed to keep her footing, following Nocturne’s lead.

  By noon, the air grew warmer, and the pine trees began to thin, their towering shadows giving way to the open sky. When they finally reached the foot of the mountain, Saphira stopped, her breath catching as she took in the view before her.

  The valley stretched wide and serene, a patchwork of gentle green hills rolling out like a quilt, stitched together by winding roads and bordered by the three cobalt-blue mountains in the distance. A coiled highway snaked through the hills, its stone surface glinting faintly in the midday sun.

  Nocturne gestured toward the mountains, his voice unusually animated. “You can see the whole fief from here,” he said, pointing to the smaller mountain on the right. “The one with the flattened top is Yule Mountain. The one with the pointed peak is Sunfire Mountain. Each belongs to a different clan.”

  “And the middle one?” Saphira asked, shielding her eyes against the sun’s glare.

  “That’s Hart Mountain, where Firestone Castle is built,” Nocturne chuckled, a rare sound. “The two clans needed a whole mountain between them to stop them from killing each other.” He pointed to the rolling hills of the valley and said, “Do you know what that means?”

  “Goats?” Saphira squinted, her gaze following his pointing finger as it shifted to the valley below. She noticed scattered dots moving across the hills, grazing over the pastures. Then, her face brightened. “Does that mean dinner?”

  “It means a farm…which means people."

  “Dinner,” Saphira maintained, adding, “The goats, I mean. Not the people.”

  The corners of Nocturne’s lips curved into a faint, amused smile.

  Underpinning the serene rustling of pine needles, and the gentle creaking of thick branches, Saphira could hear her own heart beating steadily—and with it, she imagined her own child’s heart beating. Despite the blisters on her feet, her aching, and empty stomach, Saphira felt the warmth of optimism—for the first time in months.

  Nocturne is going to be a good husband, she thought, and a good father.

  Saphira followed Nocturne, her steps growing steadier as they left the rugged mountain trail behind. The crisp bite of frost quickly gave way to the earthy, sun-warmed pastures. She broke the silence between them, asking, “Why did King Edwin make you Count of Firestone?”

  "I assume everyone has heard the bards’ tales about me," he remarked dryly.

  “With a head so inflated, I’m surprised you don’t float away.” Saphira snorted.

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  “And if I float away, how will you find your way to Firestone?” He took a bite of his crab apple, spat the seeds into the bushes, and continued, “I killed one too many spawnlords, and our esteemed king decided to punish me by making me a Count.”

  “Oh, what a cruel punishment,” Saphira said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “A castle, servants, vassal lords—you must’ve been beside yourself with misery. Yes, I know it was all King Edwin’s doing. But why Firestone, and not some other fief?”

  “Give me a horse, an open road, and clear skies, and I’m a happy man.” Nocturne chuckled, tossing the apple core aside. “Edwin knew I’d be honour-bound to rid the valley of Vandele.”

  “Vandele the Undying,” Saphira murmured, recognition sparking in her purple eyes. “The longest-lived spawnlord—a story I’ve heard the bards sing.” She paused. "Was he stronger than Golgog?”

  Nocturne fell silent for a moment, his expression hardening.

  “No,” he said finally, “but he was by far the craftiest, the most experienced. The Yule and Sunfire clans had been fighting Vandele’s spawn for years. There were once ten clans in this valley.” He gestured toward the rolling hills before them. “The blood they paid is the reason Vandele never conquered more territory. Without their help, I wouldn’t have survived.”

  “How do you survive?”

  “Grit." Nocturne cleared his throat. "It takes a certain type of fortitude to be a spawnslayer. I realised the Yule and Sunfire clans had it in their blood. They’d been fighting ‘spawn for so long, they didn’t know how to stop. So, they all joined the Blades.”

  “Then why did you accept my father’s boon to kill Golgog?”

  "Ah. This is what I needed to tell you." His expression iced. "The king ordered me to go to Renatus and accept the quest.”

  Saphira’s hand instinctively moved to the swell of her stomach.

  “Crassus wants Renatus back on the throne,” Nocturne continued. “Edwin is sick of his plotting. The ten thousand Hyland troops Vlad promised in return for your hand? When they were done with Golgog, Edwin thought they’d march for Lux. Take the throne for Renatus.”

  Her voice sharpened, “And what does Duke Vladislav get out of it? My hand in marriage isn’t worth the bloodshed.”

  “Crassus let Golgog grow." Nocturne's grip tightened on his sword, his tone edged with distaste. "Maybe even with Hyland’s help. Golgog’s ‘spawn wiped out the Renatii lords sympathetic to Edwin, leaving Renatus weak and desperate for an alliance.”

  “Treason," she whispered.

  He knows more than he’s saying. Frustration simmered beneath her skin. Why doesn’t he trust me?

  “My father begged for help while nightspawn rampaged! Edwin did nothing. Can you blame him for turning to Hyland?” She closed her eyes, containing the outburst. “None of this explains why the King sent you instead of marching himself."

  “Golgog needed to be dealt with before Crassus." His jaw tightened. "Besides, you can’t simply order the Dukes to march against each other without cause. Edwin knew Crassus would never allow a common knight to marry his eldest daughter.” His voice dropped, deadly. “I was supposed to kill Golgog, be denied you, then I’d take my complaint to Edwin. He wanted a justification for war. What better cause than to deny a hero his prize?”

  “There'll be no war,” Saphira murmured, a chill creeping into her voice. “You took me.”

  “I wasn’t going to let you die as collateral in Edwin’s game.” He took a measured breath, his composure ironclad. “I’ll find another way to give Edwin his war.”

  As they walked, Saphira’s thoughts churned, and a bitter conclusion formed in her mind. “You should have picked Celestine,” she said, her voice quieter now. “She’s the beautiful one.”

  Nocturne did not answer.

  “Celeste..." Saphira pressed her lips together, watching him closely. A sudden certainty settled over her. "She... was never an option, was she? Edwin made you choose me.”

  “Yes.” His voice was steady, but something flickered in his eyes. “We misled your father, let him believe I wanted Celestine.”

  “With you as my wife, I have a legitimate inheritance claim over Renatus.” He paused, his jaw tightening as anger momentarily seeped into his voice. “Your father would never give you over to one of Edwin’s allies, no... Crassus is a careful man. Edwin could never find fault with him in public. But you—" Nocturne’s gaze flicked toward her, assessing “—you are his weakness.”

  “He’s made it clear I’m nothing but a burden.” Saphira let out a brittle laugh.

  “And that—” Nocturne replied, “—is how Crassus sees his weaknesses.”

  The silence between them stretched as they walked, broken only by the crunch of leaves beneath their boots. Nocturne’s eyes swept the trees, his tone shifting. “Be careful. The farmers set traps for nightspawn.”

  A chill settled over Saphira as another realisation took root. “If war is coming, I need to warn my sister. She’s—”

  “She’s been a hostage in all but name for years. She’s learned how to survive,” Nocturne interrupted, not unkindly. "If she needs an escape, I have people in Lux who can get her out.”

  “But Celestine is Father’s heir now." Saphira murmured, "I don’t think he will let her leave.”

  “I don’t think Crassus will let you leave that easily,” Nocturne warned, “But I won’t let you go without a fight.”

  A smile, small and uncertain, pulled over Saphira’s lips. I hope he means it. I don’t ever want to go back.

  Ahead, a simple wooden fence came into view, marking the edge of a pasture where goats grazed lazily. One of the goats looked up, its nostrils twitching.

  Ducking under the fence, Saphira reached into her pocket and held out her last crab apple. The goat trotted over, snatched the apple greedily, and swallowed it whole before letting out a hopeful bleat.

  As the goat continued to follow them, bleating insistently, Saphira waved her hands in frustration. “Go away! I don’t have any more food. You’re the food!” she exclaimed, shooing it away.

  Nocturne glanced over his shoulder, a hint of amusement in his expression. “If you keep feeding random animals, don’t be surprised when they follow you.”

  “Perhaps you should not have fed me.” Saphira shot him a sly grin.

  “And miss your delightful company?” he quipped.

  At the crest of the grassy hill, Saphira shielded her eyes from the sun to take in the view. Beyond the next rise, nestled against the leeward slope, lay a cluster of buildings. Three solid timber barns framed a two-story manor of grey stone and dark hardwood, its thatched roof patched with care. Smoke curled lazily from the largest chimney, and from the yard below came the sharp barking of dogs, their echoes bouncing across the hills.

  He reached into his pocket and tossed her another crab apple. “Here, keep up your strength, little vila. Looks like we've found civilisation." He looked ahead at the dogs. "Be careful. We don't know if we're welcome here."