Olbric considers that, his smile only growing. “I’ll consider your offer. For now, let’s go get some fresh air.”
After being thwarted by Nik yesterday, I eagerly follow Olbric and Cass to the stables. Once we get the horses saddled up, we head to the back gate where the Chokehold is on duty today.
“Where to?” he asks, his voice as clipped and impatient as always. As if we’ve interrupted his very important stretch ofnothingthat’s going on today.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me your name,” Cancassi says sweetly as they pull Tara to a stop next to the man.
“You’ll tell me anyway or I won’t open the gate,” the guard replies flatly.
Cancassi tsks, obviously annoyed their charms aren’t working. Out of all the Royal Guards on rotation around the Crux, the Chokehold has been the hardest nut to crack. “We’re going for a ride and then into town. We’ll be back after lunch.”
The man nods curtly before he releases the latch for the bridge. It thunks down across the moat before he opens the gate for us, yet Cancassi pulls Tara to a stop next to him.
“It seems someone else used this saddle recently.” They pull their riding skirt aside, exposing far more of their smooth, pale leg than necessary. “Would you be a dear and adjust my stirrup up a notch or two?”
The guard glances up at Cancassi, obviously suspicious, but does as asked. Olbric and I share a knowing look as I fight back a smile. There’s a wager circulating the Crux about who can get a kiss from a Royal Guard first. It’s no secret that Cancassi’s determined to wineven though I’ve told them it’s a losing task. Nik’s not the only one who’s shut tighter than a godsdamned crypt, but Cancassi is not deterred.
“Thank you, dear,” they say, slipping their boot back into the stirrup. “Until later.”
The guard waves us off carelessly, and Olbric waits until we’re across the bridge before he says, “You’d have it easier with Teagan. She at leasttalksto us.”
“Nik talks too,” I point out. “But I’ve already tried barking up that tree, and he’s not interested.”
“I’m starting to wonder if they’re celibate or something,” Olbric says. “Who knows what requirements there are to be a Royal Guard.”
“Gods, that would make so much sense,” I mutter, thinking of Nik’s usual surly attitude. I’d be pissed all the time too if I wasn’t allowed to cum.
“Well, until the Chokehold flat out tells me to stop, I’m going to keep trying,” Cancassi says. “The man has to have aname, at least.”
“How about a wager you might be able to win?” I say lightly as I nudge Mo to the front. “Last one to the tree line pays for lunch.”
Before either of them answer, I urge Mo to a run with a whoop. After a good night’s rest, my mood is better than it’s been in weeks, and the feeling is only bolstered by the rush of excitement, whipping wind, and thundering of hooves.
Mo’s not the fastest, and even with my head start, I end up losing, but the sound of Olbric’s and Cancassi’s laughter as I catch up to them at the tree line is worth it. I give Mo’s neck a pat and follow behind as they head down the trail.
Fall has turned the leaves shades of gold and red, and while Olbric and Cancassi chat, I fall back to appreciate the sight quietly as we cut down the deer trail to the sluggishly trickling creek.
Ahead of me, Cancassi laughs at something Olbric said, but I’m too far behind to hear what they’re joking about. The sound is acomfort all the same. I rock with every one of Mo’s steady steps. This is the normalcy I’ve been craving since I got home, and the feeling spreads through me like a balm.
Cancassi trots up a hill, moving so gracefully in time with Tara that it looks like they’re floating. Olbric follows close behind on Valar. They crest the hill, moving out of my sight, though I can still hear Cass’ trill of laughter across the distance.
I nudge Mo forward, and a burst of cold greets me at the top of the hill. A gasp of shock is ripped from my chest as I pull Mo to a stop.
There’s no fall colors. No path. Instead, there’s... snow. A blinding flurry that kicks up with the wind. It stings my face, my exposed forearms, like daggers, and I take a staggering step forward, squinting for any sight of Olbric’s back.
Fear lances through me as I see a figure laying prone in the snow up ahead. I take another staggering step forward, fighting through the shin-deep drifts before I fall to my knees beside the figure. I carefully turn them over, but my hand is suddenly covered in a thick, black glove.
It’s not Olbric.
Instead, it’s pale blond hair, a battered face, one eye swollen shut. Rags cling to his bruised and bloodied skin, but I know it as Lucien all the same.
A shout of triumph breaks from me. But it’s not my voice. Not my lips that lean down to brush a soft kiss to Lucien’s brow.
Lucien’s pale eyes fly wide open, a hoarse shout escaping him. He struggles to focus on me, body shuddering as the lid of his one non-swollen eye flutters.
“Tevares?”
“-om? Dom!”
