Song vibe: Moonchild – RM

  __________

  NOCTURNE

  The Stables, Firestone

  The stables smelled of warm hay and leather, sunlight slanting through the open doors in pale bands. Nocturne leaned over the stall, watching Saphira.

  She touched Scarlet’s forelock, and the mare nickered in recognition. Her brows drew together as she hesitated beside the saddle.

  “We’re not going far,” Nocturne said, stepping into the stall. His hands settled firmly at her waist as he lifted her astride Scarlet. He smoothed the fabric of her skirt where it had ridden up over her bare knee. “This gown will do for a gentle ride,” he said calmly. “But you’ll need a proper mountain dress if you’re going to ride longer distances. Prevents unnecessary commentary.” His fingers brushed the narrow line of skin between her leather boots and the hem.

  Saphira tilted her head thoughtfully. “Commentary—or distraction?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Both.”

  Above: Nocturne fixes Saphira's dress.

  He moved around Scarlet, checking the girth and straps with quick precision, then crossed to Whiskey, steadied his old mare, and mounted in one smooth motion.

  In the saddle, she wobbled. “I... forgot everything Felix taught me.”

  From atop Whiskey’s back, Nocturne leaned in and whispered, “Good. I’ll teach you—and you’ll have none of his bad habits.” He did not even need to kick Whiskey. She sensed his intentions and moved first—and Scarlet followed dutifully behind her mother.

  Nothing like riding on a mare I've trained since birth. Nocturne thought. Gin is fierce, but he’s a stallion—and I always have to remind him who is in charge. Whiskey was always my favourite.

  As they crossed under the gates, the guards stood to attention and bowed.

  When they were out of sight, Saphira let out a breath of relief. “As long as I didn’t slide off the saddle in front of all of Firestone—I count today as a success.” Her tone turned teasing. “Felix says he’s the best rider, and Rell claims the title is his. Perhaps I should ask them?”

  At the mention of Rell, Nocturne’s fingers tightened briefly on the reins before easing again. He kept his gaze forward. “Liars, the both of them,” he said evenly. “If I had to pick—besides myself—” the corner of his mouth lifted, “—I’d give it to Lysander.” He leaned closer, the faint trace of lavender threading through the cool spring air. “Don’t tell him. It would only encourage him.”

  He watched as her face went from shock to wonder, then a cheeky smirk. Even if it's little, these are parts of me I can’t give to anyone—but you.

  Nocturne kept his pace measured, just slow enough that Saphira naturally fell in beside him.

  Around them, spring bloomed. The grasses on the mountain grew lush and long, gently swaying in the wind as a sea of green. Small green leaves clung to the branches, white buds on each as they prepared to bloom. Distantly, he could sense Dusty stalking them through the shadows, though the thought did not bring him unease, only a resigned shrug.

  Dusty ought to have grown big enough to earn her keep—I’ll ask Saphira to show me what Dusty is capable of.

  Above: Nocturne and Saphira enjoy a morning ride.

  Behind him, Saphira let out a sharp yelp.

  Nocturne had Whiskey’s reins in hand before he fully turned. His pulse stayed level—no true threat—but instinct pulled him into motion. Scarlet had tossed her head; the reins had slid through Saphira’s fingers.

  He wheeled Whiskey in a tight arc and closed the distance in seconds. Scarlet sidestepped beneath her, picking up her rider’s nerves. Nocturne leaned across the space between them, his knuckles brushing Saphira’s hand as he gathered the bit back into place.

  “Slipped reins,” he said calmly. “It happens when the horse pulls—or when the rider loosens her grip.”

  Her fingers trembled faintly as he guided them back into position.

  “Thumb and forefinger,” he instructed, adjusting the angle with quiet precision. His touch lingered a fraction longer than necessary. “There. Let the rest follow.”

  Saphira released a breath, eyes dipping. “In Renatus, they say there’s nothing natural about a woman riding,” she muttered. “Bouncing about all day, legs open, filthy—”

  “Mm.” His mouth twitched.

  “Oh, stop.” Colour crept into her cheeks. “You know what I mean.”

  “You’ll learn,” he said lightly.

  She hesitated, then glanced sideways at him. “Will you teach me?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Out here?” His brows lifted faintly. “If you want lessons, you’ll have to come to my bed, my lady.”

  Her look flattened—though the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “I hope you’re not this shameless with every woman who asks you for help.”

  “Only if she’s riding my horse.”

  Her breath caught—not quite a laugh, not quite a protest. Warmth stirred low in his chest. No clever reply. Interesting. He eased Whiskey into a slower pace beside her.

  “You’re gripping the horn too tightly,” he said, letting the tease fall back into instruction. “If you feel unstable, it’s your seat, not the saddle.” His gaze flicked briefly to her posture. “Lengthen your legs. Unwind your back.”

  She shifted uncertainly. “August scolds me for slouching.”

  “Straight, not rigid.”

  She adjusted. The tension eased from her shoulders.

  “There,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

  Her breath caught again, as her fingers curled subtly into the reins. A pale pink shade climbed up her cheeks.

  Unexpected. A faint, dangerous amusement stirred through him.

  “We’ll ride together more often,” he said, eyes lingering before lifting to the road ahead. “Once you’re steady, I’ll take you away. Honeymoon. Anywhere you like.”

  Her face lit. “I’d love that.” Then, softer—“But… is it safe?”

  “With me?” His voice lowered. “Always.”

  She swallowed and looked away.

  She really can’t hide a thing. He almost smiled. Best not to push her too hard—she’s still learning what this kind of attention feels like.

  They reached the rise overlooking Firestone. The keep lay embedded in the mountainside below them, dark stone warming in the bright morning sun. Banners, three red flames on ash grey, stirred lazily along the walls, catching the light as the breeze rolled up from the valley.

  Nocturne swung down first and reached for Saphira, steadying her as she slid from the saddle. She remained motionless as her gaze stayed fixed on the view.

  “Is this where we—?” Her voice constricted.

  “Aye,” Nocturne murmured. He took her hand and guided her toward the ancient tree at the edge of the hill.

  Last time, the ground had been iron-hard with frost, the branches bare and twisted against the winter sky. Now pale blossoms crowned the limbs, petals loosening into the wind and drifting in soft spirals across the grass. At the base of the trunk, a single stone rested—simple, weathered, carved with the three-ringed mark of the Almighty.

  Saphira slowed several paces away.

  “I… I’d forgotten how to get here,” she said quietly. “That whole week—it’s a blur. I can hardly remember anything. Only you.” Her fingers closed around his. “Only that you were there.”

  His grip tightened in answer, steadying himself against the familiar ache in his chest.

  The damage Crassus did. We still pay the price.

  She knelt before the stone and slipped off one glove, brushing her bare thumb across the carving. Her brows lifted slightly. “It’s clean. Someone’s been tending it.”

  “I—” His voice caught before he could stop it. “I only told Felix.”

  She kissed her fingers and then pressed them against the stone.

  “We were married nine months ago,” she whispered, the significance of the exact amount of months hitting them both. “Almost to the day. He would have been born in spring. Any day now.”

  Above: Nocturne and Saphira grieve.

  Nocturne lowered behind her and drew her back against him, his hands firm at her waist. Her quiet sobs warmed against his chest. This was not the raw tears of fresh loss—this was the quiet, private grief that stayed with someone their whole life. He carried such grief for the friends lost in the pits; for the men who never rode home; and now—for his son.

  While Saphira gathered small mountain blooms, Nocturne settled beside the stone. He uncorked the flask and poured two measures of rakia, setting one carefully at the base of the marker. The second drink, he sipped slowly, letting the burn course through him.

  Father and son. A shared drink. A simple rite. Enough.

  When the flowers were laid and the warmth of the rakia had settled low in Nocturne’s belly, they turned back toward the horses.

  As his hand went to her waist to steady her into the saddle, his fingers brushed the soft curve of her belly. The contact stalled his touch. His grip lingered, his thoughts tightening inward.

  “Forget something?” Saphira asked lightly.

  “Saphira..." He applied gentle pressure, turning her toward him. “With everything we’ve been doing, there’s a real chance it could lead to another child, soon. Is that something you’re ready for—”

  She gave a small breath of laughter—half-ache, half humour. “You’ve only considered that just now?”

  “I forgot what it’s like to live as if it’s even possible,” he admitted quietly.

  She looked off into the distance. “My moonblood hasn’t returned.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  I’m not afraid of creating life. But I took that choice away from her last time—and I almost made the same mistake again.

  “Is that—” his brow furrowed, concern sharpening, “—normal?”

  “Yes. Verity said up to two moons. Especially after everything.”

  His thumb traced a slow, absent line at her waist.

  I’ll have to grow accustomed to this, he thought, half the keep knowing our business—her moon cycles, my virility—the parts of being a Count I avoided on purpose.

  He set the irritation aside and searched her face. “You still haven’t answered me,” he murmured. “If you’re not ready, that’s fine. There are ways for us to stay close without risk.”

  “Verity thinks I should wait anyway,” she said with a small smile. “Build my strength. She says late summer is best to conceive—”

  “Saphira.” His finger lifted her chin gently. “If I wanted Verity’s counsel, I’d ask her. I’m asking you.”

  Her gaze wavered. “I didn’t realise I was allowed much say.”

  Fye. Even now, Renatus still echoes in her thinking. Thank the Almighty she’s here. Safe.

  “You bear the danger in childbirth,” he said quietly. “Not me.” His eyes held hers, steady and unflinching. “I never believed I could have children—until you gave me Asher. Waiting costs me nothing. Tell me what you want.”

  The silence stretched—not empty, but alive as the warm sun shone down on them, and a gentle breeze swirled pink blossoms in the air.

  “In Renatus, I wasn’t allowed to leave,” she said softly. “Here it’s different—but it still feels like I haven’t truly lived yet. What I want is freedom, Nox. To just be.”

  Fye. Felix had seen this before I did. He drew her into his arms, holding her firmly against his chest.

  “You’re my wife first,” he said. “Everything else follows.”

  Her shoulders eased as she exhaled. “When we do have children, I want to raise them myself. Not handed away to nurses and tutors. I want them to know me.”

  “It’s yours,” he promised without hesitation. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “We’ll wait until you’re ready. Just don’t vanish on me without warning.”

  She laughed. “You think I’m going to ride off into the wilderness alone? Almighty, what kind of life have you led?”

  He chuckled. “I’ll tell you on the road. We’ll see the ocean together, once the politics settle. For now, we’ll travel the fief. Visit the clans.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like work.”

  His laughter deepened. “There will be pleasure enough along the way—I’ll see to it.”

  She did not blush or look away. Rising onto her toes, she leaned close and murmured into his ear, “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Above: Nocturne and Saphira share a kiss over Firestone.

  This was the last chapter in this book from Nocturne's POV. There are 2 more chapters to go, plus a epilogue.

  How has it all gone for you? Does this chapter end Nocturne's character arc well? What do you want to see next arc?