Page 66 of Elysian

I curled my fingers into Abrax’s mane and scooted closer to the front of the saddle to get away from him.

Cassiel clicked his tongue, and Abrax sprang forward, slamming me back. Undoubtedly purposefully.

‘Go on, bondmate, direct your ire at me. You have many dawnlight rotations to shout at me.’

I didn’t like one bit how humored he sounded. Instead of speaking, I clammed up.

I huddled against Abrax, combing my fingers through his mane. Cassiel had been gone long enough for me to grow concerned. Not that I would admit that to him.

“I have returned with provisions.”

I screamed, whirling. Abrax neighed, shuffling from hoof to hoof.

Cassiel no longer wore the robe. He had on trousers that only reached his calves, and his tunic stretched tight across his shoulders. He rifled through the wool bag. Carefully he pulled out a gown with long sleeves. It was a simple design with a flowing skirt in a roasted chestnut shade.

Then he shook the sack.

“And breads, cheeses, and fruits for a few days.”

He angled the opening for me to see the pile of wrapped cheese bits among the fruits. All of it would have cost me the coin from a single month’s wages. Registered redbloods were given a stipend that was delivered to their blueblood family. Luckily enough, the Bjorns had given me reign of mine when I lived with them.

I flicked a glance up at him and squeezed the dress. With a nod, I handed him my satchel and backed away to huddle behind the nearest tree. Despite him knowing every secret crevice on my body, I would change away from him. I tossed the gown over a nearby branch sticking out. Once I untied the robe, I shrugged it off, letting it pool at my feet.

No bloomers, but I was glad to be out of the blood and gut-coated robe. I donned the dress, and it fell to my ankles. The fit was only slightly too big, but it would do. I smoothed my hands on the front as I walked back to Abrax.

“You look lovely,” Cassiel murmured, returning my satchel.

“Thank you,” I said with ice in my voice, tossing the strap over my shoulders. The weight settled diagonally on my chest.

“Will you continue to punish me?”

“I know not what you mean,” I said innocently.

He brushed his hand through his hair. “Let me help you up.”

“I have it.” Grabbing the saddle’s edge, I popped my foot into the stirrup and jumped while simultaneously pulling myself. I hovered for a split second, my arm trembling. Cassiel palmed my bum and hoisted me up the rest of the way.

He mounted and reached to place the bag of food on my lap.

“Eat. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

I stuffed my hand into the sack, searching for an apple. Cassiel kept a hand on my waist, keeping me balanced as we rode onward. Accepting the provisions was not me accepting him.

It is survival, not surrender.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Southern Sycarious

Abrax trotted upon the carved path running parallel to the main road. I flexed my feet, stretching my toes up to the sky before relaxing them. So much riding had allowed me to settle with my thoughts.

Cassiel studied the map he held up in one hand. I studied it along with him. It was rather simple and did not encapsulate the true stretch of the realm. He’d sketched an image of straw bales beside the spot he wrote ‘Southern Sycarious’, leaving no space for doubt it had been a method of direction. I recognized the bubbling brook we had passed a few dawnlights ago.

He rolled the parchment back up and slid it into the saddlebag attached to Abrax.

Our argument from when our journey began still festered in my thoughts. The distance we traveled had allowed me to sit with it. Boundaries were a subject I hardly knew how to raise. In all truth, I had no wish to broach it during the grueling travel.

On both sides of the path, the oak trees soon turned into a familiar sight.