by K. L. Thorne
“That’s a great idea!” Haros beamed and pressed a kiss to Sivelle’s forehead. “With Lori’s scent too, there’s no way she’s not going to be able to hunt them down.”
At the word ‘hunt’, Nyre’s eyes gleamed. Haros had started to teach her to use her nose to find things by occasionally throwing an earring or ring of Sivelle’s from the window and asking the dragonette to return it.
The myths of dragonette’s acquisitive nature were in fact based on a lot of truths. Nyre loved nothing better than hunting and finding things.
If she had been left to live in the wild, she would have had a nest of all manner of items by now. As it was, the dragonette had made do by collecting a small hoard of interesting objects beneath Sivelle’s bed – though Nyre had to squash herself considerably to reach them these days.
Haros was hesitant about sending the dragonette out into the real world, but confident that she would be successful. He didn’t doubt Nyre’s abilities for a second, but he fretted over what other challenges she may come across. He hoped no one thought to capture her or hurt her as she made this perilous journey for the first time.
“Be good, you hear me?” Sivelle stroked the dragonette and placed a kiss against the creature’s snout. Nyre puffed softly, tendrils of smoke swirling from her nostrils.
“And be careful. Come back to us if you get lost and try again.” Haros instructed and held out the map, pointing to the picture of a mountain he had sketched. “Remember, go right here – once you see the river, full steam ahead and you should catch the scent from there.”
Nyre cooed with agreement and turned, facing out across the vast landscape of Hestaesia. She stamped her feet excitedly before launching herself off into the sky. Snow flurried around them as she disturbed it with her wings.
Without a second glance, the dragonette soared away. He and Sivelle watched her until she was just a tiny black speck in the vast, powder-blue sky.
“I hope she makes it,” Sivelle mumbled.
Haros glanced at the faerie beside him, noting her glassy eyes with pity.
“She’ll be fine. I have faith in her.” He tugged her beneath his arm once more. “And just think, she’ll return with a letter from your sisters.”
Sivelle smiled at that and they turned back into the bedroom. “It’s going to be strange not having her around. I’ve grown used to her constant chattering and purring.”
“Yeah, a bit of peace and quiet for once maybe.” Haros laughed. He turned to close the balcony doors behind him and Sivelle sat on the chair beside the fire.
She stared into the flames, lost in thought. Haros hesitated a moment before sitting down heavily beside her. What was she thinking about?
“Are you feeling a bit better?” he asked.
“Much, but I’m starving.” She nodded.
“Say no more, what would you like?” Haros got back to his feet.
“You’re being awfully considerate today.” Sivelle’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Haros shrugged. “With Mivian indisposed it’s only right I get off my ass and lend a hand.” He paused. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood? I did get laid last night, remember?”
He laughed at the scathing look that earnt him and headed to the door.
“Seriously though, any preferences for food? Or shall I go with my instincts?” He hesitated at the open door.
“I may not pay your opinion much consideration with most things, but you seem to know what you’re doing when it comes to food. I’ll let you decide,” Sivelle replied tartly.
Haros hissed in a breath, feigning offence. “Ouch, that was mean. Tread carefully sweetheart, don’t take liberties with my good mood. I’d take just as much pleasure in teaching you a lesson, believe me.”
Sivelle rolled her eyes. “Get out of here.”
Haros ducked out of the room with a wide grin and headed off down the corridor towards the stairwell. He noticed the King’s Guard soldiers were in place once more and nodded curtly at one of the men as their eyes met.
He trotted down the stairs and turned off into the kitchen. The usual busy room was vacant. It seemed Sivelle wasn’t the only one with a hangover.
Rather than disturbing anyone, Haros headed down the stairs towards the cellar in the vain hope that he would find something to fashion a meal out of. He was no Dorian, but he wasn’t totally inept at cooking.
He was looking through some jars when a shadow at the door caught his attention.
“Ah, just the man.” Haros greeted a very tired, pale looking Dorian with a grin.
“If I ever suggest moonshine to you again, please hit me,” the chef grumbled, running a hand down his face.
“How’s Mivian this morning?”
“Still asleep, which is probably for the best.” Dorian laughed. “What are you doing in here?”
“Just looking for something to eat.”
“Come, I’ll make something.”
“Are you sure? You’re not looking too clever.” Haros cast his eyes over the chef, but Dorian waved his hand.
“I’ll be fine. Maybe a bite to eat for myself would be a good idea.”
Haros followed the chef back into the kitchen and watched the man start to gather various cooking implements together.
“How is the princess this morning?” he asked, pouring a drizzle of oil into his pan.
“A little fragile but she’s up and about,” Haros replied, picking a handful of berries from a nearby fruit bowl and popping them into his mouth.
“I take it she enjoyed her foray into Awrelwood?”
“Definitely. It’s a shame we can’t do it again sometime soon. That girl has missed out on so much.”
“That’s an understatement.” Dorian snorted and paused, looking up from washing his hands. “Haros, do you mind if I ask you something?”
Haros shrugged and nodded.
“You and the princess… where is that going?”
The demon paused, weighing up his response for a few long moments.
“Honestly? That all depends on her.”
Dorian waved him on curiously as he began to chop up some onions.
“I like her – a lot – but I can’t stay here. It’s a miracle I’ve remained undetected this long. Zelrus would throttle me if he knew how many chances of escape I’ve thrown away already. I think she and I might have a real chance at something, if I can persuade her to come with me back to Banesteppe.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Dorian asked.
“Why wouldn’t she? Her sisters are both there already and I’d like to think she values what we’ve got enough to at least try.” Haros felt an unusual flare of concern. What if the princess really didn’t want to leave with him? Could he leave her behind? He’d have to.
“It’s more than a little risky. You could both end up dead.”
“It would be better to be dead than to spend the rest of her life here, trapped in her room like a prisoner.” Haros snorted.
“Perhaps she wouldn’t agree with that? Afterall, she knows nothing of what she’s missing. To you and I, sure, we know all life has to offer – but Sivelle? Other than last night, she’s got no real comparison.”
“Whose side are you on here, anyway?” Haros scowled playfully.
“Sorry, sorry – I don’t mean to be so negative, I was just curious as to your intentions. Would you leave her if she refused to join you?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have much of a choice. My king is relying on me.” The words fell autonomously out of his mouth, but deep down Haros doubted his conviction to them.
“I don’t suppose there will be much of a choice after this weekend anyway,” the chef said with a shake of his head.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s that ball this weekend.” Dorian shrugged. When Haros didn’t respond, the man glanced up at him. “You know, the one her father is holding for her?”
“No, I hadn’t heard. I knew she had birthday plans but she hadn’t mentioned another
. What is this one for?”
Haros felt his skin grow cold at the hesitant look Dorian cast him.
“Well, he’s marrying her off, isn’t he? All the eligible bachelors in the city are invited. Sivelle is going to be forced to choose a husband, before her father chooses one for her.”
“But that’s insane!” Haros glowered.
“She’s a princess, Haros. It’s not that uncommon to enter into an arranged marriage. Surely your kind also observe this rule?”
“Well yeah, sometimes, but Sivelle…” he trailed off, rubbing his hand over his mouth thoughtfully.
“Perhaps this is why she hadn’t told you. To stop you from worrying over things you cannot change.” Dorian said, as he flicked the steadily browning onions in his pan.
Haros stared at the oil as it hissed and bubbled.
“When did you say this ball was? The end of the week?”
“That’s right.”
“Then I’ve not got much time,” Haros stood up straight and ran a hand over one of his horns. “I’d better get an escape plan together.”
“I’m no expert, but that seems like the sort of thing that would take longer than a couple of days!” Dorian grinned. He uncovered a bowl of large eggs and began cracking them into the pan.
“It’s not ideal, but I’ve got to try.”
“And if she doesn’t want to leave with you?”
Haros paused, drumming his fingers against the countertop. “Then I hope the dick she marries is good enough for her.”
Just saying the words filled Haros with cold dread. Surely Sivelle would be easily swayed on this? He could take her to her sisters – regardless of how deep her feelings for him ran, surely her boundless love for them would convince her to take the risk?
Would he leave her behind, the woman he was beginning to fear was everything he had been looking for, to be married off to some rich prick? He knew he would be leaving her to a lifetime of misery, and himself regret.
“I doubt that very much, but I’m sure the princess will appreciate the sentiment.” Dorian shook his head. He began grating some cheese, turning his attention to the pan and stirring its contents every now and then.
Haros leant forwards to rest his forearms against the counter, deep in thought. How could such a perfect day have taken such a sour turn? He chest felt like it had been filled with rocks.
Dorian seasoned the meal he was making and piled a handful of cheese in with the eggs and onion. He stirred it around and jerked his chin at Haros.
“Pass me some plates, if you would.”
Haros obediently pulled together three plates and laid them out for the chef. Whilst the pan continued to crackle, Dorian grabbed a loaf of bread and cut several thick slices from it. Haros laid out some cutlery.
“It’s hardly a gourmet meal I’m afraid, but it will do,” he muttered, spooning the egg mixture out onto the plates in front of him. Haros distributed the bread between them.
“Thanks, I appreciate it – gourmet or not. Could you pop some drinks in the service chute? I’ll take these up.” Haros nodded and took two of the plates in his hands. As he headed from the kitchen, he heard Dorian call to him.
“I’m sorry to have been the bearer of such bad news. Please, whatever you decide, make sure you come to say goodbye before you leave.”
“Absolutely.” Haros cast him a false grin over his shoulder. It fell from his face as soon as his back was turned.
As Haros made his way back to the bedroom, he passed two King’s Guard soldiers, deep in conversation. They didn’t see him approaching.
“—they’ve returned in a hell of a mess. They’ve been butchered.”
“The demon king is one thing, but that brother of his is infamously ferocious. King Lazuli has well and truly lost his mind, sending our men in there like that. What was he hoping to achieve? Daelynn and his men couldn’t retrieve the princess from six of those demon fuckers, did he really think they’d be able to wander right into Banesteppe and just grab her?!”
Haros slowed his steps, eager to eavesdrop.
“You remember Henderson, right? We trained with him.”
“Sure.”
“I heard Zelrus has burnt his eyeballs out. They’re like lumps of charcoal!”
Haros frowned. King Zelrus certainly hadn’t done that, but he was curious as to who had.
“Demons… Filth. Henderson was a good man. How many returned?”
“Just three. The others… they didn’t make it.”
After loitering as long as he was able to without detection, Haros begrudgingly continued on as the soldiers turned off, heading down the stairs towards the exit.
So Lazuli had sent men after his daughters. Haros could only imagine how that went down. It sounded as though his friends had managed to fend them off, but he couldn’t fight his concern for them. Had anyone besides the faeries been injured?
He opened the bedroom door with his elbow and pressed it closed behind him with his foot. Sivelle was getting the drinks from the service chute.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her face suddenly falling.
“Nothing,” Haros replied. He ignored his stomach churning as his gaze met with hers.
“You’re a terrible liar, it’s written all over your face. What’s happened?” Sivelle hurried after him with the pitcher of water and two empty glasses. Haros put their plates down on the small table beside the fire.
“I just overheard an interesting conversation, that’s all. Did you know your father had sent men after your sisters?”
“I only knew about the ones that managed to capture you. He’s sent more?” she asked, sitting down on the settee. She patted the cushion beside her and Haros joined her.
“Seems that way. They went to Banesteppe after them.”
“Are they alright? What happened?”
“I don’t know much, but it sounds like the King’s Guard fared worse than our guys at least. Fuck, I should have found an excuse to follow those soldiers a bit longer…” Haros ran a hand through his hair and stood up, pacing back and forth.
“Well, that’s a relief I suppose.” Sivelle eyed him curiously. “Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”
“You just don’t understand. I’m here, when I should be helping to defend my king. I…” he trailed off.
Sivelle pushed her food around on her plate, her fork screeched against the china surface. Haros paused, curious to see if the princess would have anything to say for herself.
She opened her mouth, clearly about to speak, before thinking better of it and shovelled in a mouthful of egg instead.
“Your food is going cold,” she said quietly.
“I’m not hungry.” Haros strode to the balcony doors and stared out through the glass. The clear sky had clouded over, heavy with snow once more. He felt conflicted, when all he wanted was to feel as happy as he’d been earlier that morning.
By the end of the week, Sivelle would be engaged and he would be heading home. He tried to envision it, but was having trouble convincing himself that his future likely wouldn’t have her in it.
Sivelle placed her half-eaten meal on the table and gazed into the fire. The room was silent, just the occasional crackle and pop as the flames devoured the wood.
Things had never been like this between them, even from the first day they had met. The tension ate at him whilst he debated how to broach the subject of her father’s ball with her.
“You know that I am not keeping you here, Haros. You are my thrall, but know that you are free to act upon your plans for escape if you so wish.” She didn’t look up at him as he turned to face her.
“I don’t want to escape. Not yet, at least,” Haros replied. Even he recognised the petulance of his tone.
“Then tell me, what exactly is the matter because you’re clearly—” Sivelle began. The ire in her voice sparked the turbulent anger and jealousy that roiled within him and he snapped.
“Well, not telling me about the ba
ll your father is hosting at the weekend was probably a bit of an oversight on your part.”
Sivelle’s eyes finally flickered across to him. “How do you know—”
“Dorian told me. He didn’t realise I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I… I didn’t think it concerned you.”
“Didn’t concern me? Are you kidding?” Haros fought to keep his anger from flaring, but judging by the way Sivelle pressed her lips together, he was failing.
There was a long, tense pause.
“Tell me,” he continued. “Was I just some brief escape from reality for you? A new way for you to get back at your father or--”
“Of course not!” Sivelle’s eyes widened.
“Then why are you letting him do this?”
“You think I have a choice?!”
“Yes, I fucking do! I’m getting out of here and I’m taking you with me,” Haros snarled.
“No, you’re not! I can’t – it’s too dangerous! We’ll never make it out together undetected. My father’s men are everywhere. I couldn’t ask you to risk your escape by attempting to free me.”
“Fuck undetected! We’ll get as far as we can and then I’ll fight the rest of the way.”
“You can’t. I won’t.” Sivelle shook her head.
Haros slammed the outside of his balled-up fist against the door frame and the princess startled.
“What exactly do you plan to do? Stay here and allow your father to marry you off? I’m sure the king wants nothing more for you, but what do you want Sivelle? Do you want to stay here?”
“No, but I am staying Haros.” She shook her head and a tear spilled down her cheek. It cut him like a knife.
“Come with me,” he growled.
Sivelle’s ice blue irises locked with his. Sorrow like he had never seen it stared back at him. His body felt like it was carved from stone, despite the hot, angry blood pounding in his ears.
“No,” she whispered. Another tear fell.
Haros could bear it no longer. He slammed his fist against the wall once more and turned on his heel for the door.
“Where are you going?” the princess called, her voice shaking.