Jessamine
It's snowing.
Adjusting the scarf around my neck, I let out a frosty breath, squinting into the mild snow storm. Kier and Mikkel wait by the stables and Camilla jogs over with the last of my boxes. Nerves wrack my being and I rub my hands together in a bid to dispell them. I do not look forward to returning to that place. That castle. I remember Moira. I remember the scalding tea running down my throat. I remember her arrow whizzing past my head. I remember the duel.
I smile a little. I do not return as a maid. Or an Omega. No. Far from it. Perhaps, there is something to look forward to after all.
"Happy to leave me so soon, daughter?" I hear Father say behind me.
I turn, taking his outstretched hands. "Of course not. It is you, after all, who wants me gone." I notice Queen Tara and Nymeria standing by the corner. Queen Tara's sharp gaze hold mine for the briefest of seconds, before she lowers her head in a curt nod. It is the most I'll get out of her as a 'farewell'. Nymeria's eyes are red rimmed, her skin blotchy. She looks unwell. I assume the tonic is taking its toll on her.
Her eyes beseech me and I swallow, turning my gaze back to my father who presses something cold into my palms. "It was a gift from my mother, carved on the very Ash Mountain." His face softens, his lips thinning. "You are strong. A Hunter. There's not a thing you cannot attain. Fight if you must, but return to me."
"Whatever happened to winning--"
His grip tightens on my fingers. "I do not care if the battle is lost. I care only that you return home." His gaze flicks behind me for a moment. "And that you allow yourself a chance at happiness."
I pull back on reflex, slipping the dagger into my doublet. "My happiness is with me, Father. Not him. I'd appreciate if you stopped trying to fix us up. He is mated. I am to be mated to Darrock."
"A poor choice I will make certain to remedy."
To that, I say nothing. Darrock left later last night, after stabbing Kier. I had been furious initially, until he told me why he did it. Until he reiterated Kier's words back to me. I'd left the revelry with Darrock and had little care for whatever happened with Kier. It's probably healed over by now. Darrock's retailation may have been drastic, but Kier should have known not to pick a fight with him.
Darrock's more of a kill now, no regrets later kind of guy.
Father walks me back to the carriage. I'd have preferred to travel without, to move faster without calling attention to ourselves, but Father insisted. The men are to rendezvous from the different parts of Dawn to our borders where they wait for our arrival.
We walk to the carriage in heavy silence and I feel my heart plummet with every step I take farther from my home. It is odd. I didn't think I'd grow to like it here. I didn't think leaving would make me feel this vulnerable; like I'm heading out into the unknown with little but sticks for swords.
By the carriage, Mikkel extends a hand to me and I take it, climbing onto the cushioned seats. I spy my father talking to Kier for the briefest of moments before he also climbs into the carriage, settling on the farthest edge from me and peering out the window with his arm resting against the window's ledge. He hasn't so much as looked my way since last night and I suppose I have Darrock to thank for that.
The carriage shudders and I scowl, holding the sides as it lurches forward. I peer out the window and despite my training I call out to my father and wave at him like a child. He smiles, nodding, and I watch him turn away and walk until he is out of my line of sight.
My eyes sting a little and I laugh at myself, wiping at the corner of my eyes before the tear can escape. I'll miss him most, my father.
I look forward and jolt when I find blazing eyes watching me. Startled, I grit out, "What?"
He fixes a stare out the window with an icy remark, "Nothing."
I lean back in my seat, shutting my eyes and drawing my coat tighter around me. This is going to be a long, gruelling ride.
************
The first day is uneventful. As is the second. And the third. Mikkel and Kier switch places occasionally, riding out the carriage and scouring the perimeter. Camilla is given a brief respite from riding to join me inside but she declines, choosing to remain outside. Not that I mind. I do like my personal space. We stop for camp when it gets too cold and the blizzard becomes much too tenous to see through.
Camilla and I share at tent. Kier and Mikkel share the other. The few guards in my entourage, Az, Barton and Julian, share the last. Everyone is tense around me, and I have no idea what to do to get rid of that.
I reach for something, Camilla flinches. I wish to pee, the guards won't let me out of their sight even if I order them otherwise. Mikkel speaks to me occasionally, but it's all plans and strategies that he's discussed with Kier who has refused to engage in direct conversation with me. Or even interact at all. It would bother me if I gave two shits about him, which I don't. I hear them laughing by the fire, but when I leave my tent and join them, they all go quiet. My food is delivered to me in my tent and other than the orders I dish out, i haven't had a proper conversation with anyone since I left.
By the fourth day, I am angry, frustrated, cold, and absolutely missing Darrock.
Mikkel opens the carriage and I stare at the empty space that has become my haven in the last four days. I turn from it. "I'll ride today."
"It's not safe--"
"Shall I hide in there until we arrive at the borders like a coward?" My eyes narrow to slits. "I will ride beside you. We'll save up time if we discard it anyway."
Kier snorts something of a response that I don't quite catch and I ignore him, just as I've been for the past few days. Mikkel gives Julian and Barton an order to load my luggage on the the free horse, and I saunter over to the black steed tied up to the tree.
"Not that one," Kier says, the first words he's spoken to me in three days. "She's rather wild and will toss you off."
It's possible he's forgotten I'm not the same female he banished who feared riding a horse. Stabbing my foot into the saddle, I mount, going astride with ease. She neighs, kicking into a wild, angry gallop under me. I growl, grabbing a hold of the reigns and pulling at it, equally angry. She bays and I grunt in response, daring her to throw me off. She whines, kicking sand and dust. I run a finger through her mane and she goes dormant.
I peer down at Kier with a look I've practiced well over the weeks. The condescending, belittling look. "Say that again, Your Majesty."
Az laughs, helping a red-faced Camilla up his horse. "Show off."
Kier rides past, his winter-kissed scent filling my nose. I fake a sneeze, at which he whips his head around with anger flashing in his eyes. I crinkle my nose like I've smelled something disgusting and he stalks ahead, lowering his nose imperceptibly to sniff under his arms.
Alpha Mikkel and the guards joins us a few minutes later and we start down the path.
"They're watching you, you know," he says to me, interrupting the rather jarring silence. "Often times, people tend to withdraw because of the state of your aura."
My lips tighten. "And what does my aura look like?"
He squints at me and the look makes his smile look creepier than usual. "An angry red."
I pause. "You can really see it? How?"
"Close your eyes, feel the world vibrate around you. Breathe deep, let your mind drift like a feather on the wind. When you open your eyes again, see not with your gaze, but with your soul."
I turn my gaze towards Kier and try, repeating his words in my head verbatim. It doesn't work, and he must see it in my expression because he says, "It'll come to you eventually. It took me a month to properly understand every shimmer and hue."
An awkward silence ensues and I hate it. So I ask, "You didn't fight against father's orders. Why?"
Mikkel shrugs, twining a piece of metal in his hands, creating odd shapes with it as his horse jumps under him. "There's only so much entertainment one gains from the revelries every day."
My eyebrows arch. "You're risking your life, coming with me, out of sheer boredom?"
His bright eyes meet mine and his lips spread thin. "Careful now. You almost sound worried for me."
I mull over his words as we ride in silence, watching the guards openly flirt with the maid who hides her giggle under gloved fingers. At least, she's having fun. I stare ahead, watching Kier's back as he leads our group, his ears twitching at the slightest sounds. I stare at his hair in that odd ponytail, every strand in place. I stare at his strong neck and the silver chain hanging from it. I stare, and stare, feeding my eyes with something other than the forest around us.
He suddenly stiffens, as if feeling my gaze on him and he turns a little. I tear my gaze away before he can catch me watching him. I stare at Mikkel instead and find him looking between Kier and I with faint curiosity. I wonder if he knows. If he can smell the bond between us. Licking my chapped lips, I whisper, so only he can hear, "How do you suggest that I...tweak my aura to become a little bit... friendly?"
Mikkel stares at me incredulously. "That is for you to figure out, Your Highness."
We stop hours later, a day away from the borders. A couple of days away from seeing Kier and Moira together. I'll survive, I tell myself as I dump a change of clothes inside a bag and find my way over to the river for a bath, the moon lighting my path.
I weave past tree after tree, looking over my shoulder to ensure I'm not being followed. The rest are by the fire and Kier is as usual, stalking off Goddess knows where. I dump my bag by the water and walk around, doing a quick inspection. When I'm certain I'm alone, I pull off the odd doublet, my vest, my pants and my underthings. I flinch when my foot touches the freezing cold water and I suck in a breath before lowering myself into its depths.
My lungs burn and I release a startled yelp as my head breaks the surface, my hands instantly going around me to hugging my bare chest.
There's a man crouched low by the riverbed, his eyes glowing eerily in the dark. A man I don't recognize. He cocks his head at an odd angle, those eyes roving my face, down my neck and my now covered chest. My teeth clatter and my eyes dart to my clothes and weapon beside him. He notices me looking and dirty boots kick my sword far away from us. My gaze flicks to the forest beyond. How could he get so close with anyone else noticing? How did I not hear him approach?
"Who are you?" I say, my voice shaky from the cold.
He smiles, catching his bottom lip between too white teeth. "Aren't you a dainty little thing? More ravishing than they say you are." He stares at my chest pointedly. "Perhaps, when all of this is over, I will keep you."
Fear sparks in my heart as I catch a whiff of his scent. Honeyed. Leathery. Much like burned amber. I stumble back, the water splashing around my sides. "Who are you?"
His tongue darts out, seeming to taste my fear in the air, and his smile is bloodcurdling as he says, "You may call me Atticus."