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“Your prince will take care of it. Make sure you leave room for his clothes as well.”
I try not to make a face, but I don’t know if I manage it. We’re sharing a suitcase? I picture my underwear entangled with his. Well, we’ve done much worse in dreams. And yet, this is real, it’s different.
Regardless, who am I to question Marlak and his travel arrangements? I pick up what I think is enough, including underwear, since I don’t plan on stopping wearing it, and put it carefully on one side of that monstrosity. My most comfortable trousers and blouse are there as well, for sleeping. I’m still wondering how he’s planning on carrying this, unless…
“Are you joining us?” I ask Ferer. I still don’t think it’s fair to make him carry this thing, but it’s the only idea that makes sense.
“Not in principle, no. But I’ll be here, waiting for your return.” His face then hardens. “Nelsin will be here as well.”
I don’t like to hear the anger and distaste in his tone, and I can see that being upset at Nelsin is eating him from the inside. “He survived this time. You don’t know about the future. You don’t know what’s going to happen. Enjoy the time you have, the moments you have. Resentment hurts you as much as it hurts him.”
“Wise words, my lady.” He bows slightly. I don’t know if he’s mocking me. “One thing I know about advice: usually the one who gives it is the one who needs it most.”
I don’t know if he thinks his words will annoy me, but they don’t. I smile. “Indeed. If I ever get upset with someone I love, I’ll heed my own advice and not squander our relationship because of one mistake.”
He’s closing the suitcase, then pauses and looks at me. “Let’s hope so.”
There’s something eerie in that stare, as if it was a warning.
In truth, there’s few people I love. I’d say Tarlia and Sayanne, I guess. Until some time ago, I might have included Otavio and Andrezza on that list, but I’m wiser now. It’s weird to think that wisdom means loving less, but I guess it does.
I can’t count dream Marlak because he doesn’t exist. Dream love doesn’t exist.
The thought drowns me in infinite emptiness.
I step out of the house and see Marlak sitting on a log, resting his chin on his hand, his black curls covering part of his face like a curtain, shielding his eyes from me. Like that, he doesn’t look dangerous. I’d say he looks weary and perhaps tired, almost vulnerable. And yet it’s just an illusion, or perhaps what my mind wants my eyes to see.
His left hand still has that recent wound, the wound he got in his travels. And now he’s taking me with him on his dangerous journey. I don’t feel scared, though. I feel relieved. I think the worst is always not knowing, and more than ever, I need to learn everything I can about him.
I’m wearing a leather surcoat like I was told to, and it’s making me feel hot and stuffy. The day is cloudy, but it’s warm and humid, and I can only assume we’re going to do some magic traveling somewhere cold, except that Marlak’s wearing only a thin tunic. Perhaps he’s going to ditch me in some magic ice prison. I’m about to find out.
There’s no sign of the suitcase anywhere, and I’m still wondering if Nelsin will bring it or maybe if it was all a prank and I won’t have anything to wear. At least my trousers and tunic are comfortable, in case I have to keep them on for eternity—or for a week. I don’t want to imagine attending a wedding wearing stinky clothes, but maybe it’s not as bad as attending my own wedding in a rough wool dress.
When he finally turns and looks at me, he raises his eyebrows, seeming surprised or startled. I can never quite decipher his expression.
“Ready?” he asks.
All I manage is a nod, and then he gets up and approaches me. Now that he’s this close, I feel even warmer, with some difficulty to breathe. I am drawn to those eyes so dark and deep, and I still want to run my fingers through his black curls. There’s no shame in wanting foolish things, as long as we’re aware they’re foolish.
And yet it’s hard to be aware of anything when he’s standing so close, his scent enveloping me. I shut my eyes when he wraps his arms around me, trying to focus and telling myself that this is daytime Marlak, not the man from my dreams, but a huge part of me doesn’t trust that story anymore.
It feels like he’s doing some air magic inside my stomach, giving it a fluttering, chilly feeling as we drift over the magical waters housing the nymphs, towards the riverbank.
There’s something so elegant, so controlled about his magic. Perhaps the ease, naturality of it. It’s beautiful, fascinating even.
He’s looking up and I follow his line of sight and see a black form emerging through the gray clouds. Soon I recognize Cherry Cake, Marlak’s wondrous magical unicorn. The creature lands beside us, and Marlak taps his flank, then pats his head in a caring gesture.
Perhaps this is the answer as to who Marlak hugs: his steed. Better than nobody, I guess.
I notice then the double-seat saddle. It’s made in brown leather with some details in gold and even some decorative gems along its seams. It can’t be a saddle improvised the day he picked me up. No, it’s old and worn, even though it’s well-made and expensive. I wonder if it’s one of the Crystal Court relics and who it was made for.
My thoughts stop as he approaches me and puts his hands on my waist. I still don’t know how he does it without tickling, but then I’m on the saddle, and soon he’s behind me, his arms around me.
“Hold tight.”
Why does Marlak have to use that soft, warm voice sometimes? I wish it was always grating and hating and annoying, so at least it would be consistent.
My heart wants to do something in my chest, but I tell it to behave.
