by K. L. Thorne
“What?” he cocked a brow.
“Oh, nothing.” Sivelle replied with a smug smile.
“Spit it out.”
“I suppose I’ve never really thought about myself as your mistress before,” the princess giggled again. “I guess that means I’m the boss, right?”
“Sweetheart, if we get out of this mess alive, I’d be happy to have you as my mistress.” Haros laughed.
Sivelle took his hand gently in hers and he squeezed it. He was fatigued and every step became harder than the last. His majicka had dwindled, leaving him feeling raw and laden with weariness.
It was nothing a hearty meal, a warm bed and a good fuck wouldn’t sort out. Haros just hoped the stable was going to be as accommodating as Cirro had led them to believe.
There was another faint patter of hooves, this time coming from the city. Haros tugged Sivelle into the bushes and they waited patiently whilst two faeries on horseback passed them.
They were chatting idly between themselves, completely oblivious to the escapees hidden in the bushes.
When it was safe to re-emerge, they continued along the path.
“I hope Mivian and Dorian are alright,” Sivelle mumbled beside him. The slim faerie was wracked with violent shivers, Haros wrapped an arm around her, tugging her into his body. He was cold, so he didn’t expect his body heat to do much for her, but he had to try.
“Dorian has already packed their things. He said he’s arranged for a carriage to collect them in the morning.”
“My father is going to be furious…”
Sivelle’s eyes stared blankly ahead. Haros could almost see the horrors of the evening unfolding in her mind.
“I’m sorry, Sivelle,” he said softly, squeezing her again.
“I just… I can’t believe he was prepared to—” she broke off and cleared her throat.
“He tried to have your sisters killed – Lori twice now. He’s lost sight of everything besides his own pride. He wants to win the war of his own making and won’t stop at anything to ensure he does.”
“I wonder where mother was in all of this,” Sivelle sighed. “Probably polishing some jewels, completely oblivious.”
“I wish there was something I could say to make it better,” Haros smiled sadly.
Sivelle simply shook her head and tucked in closer to him. They walked on in silence. The snow pattered softly all around and a fox trotted across the road in front of them.
Sivelle watched the creature curiously as it disappeared into the dense forest once more. Haros supposed it was the first she had ever seen, unless a fox had been unfortunate enough to get stuck inside the palace grounds.
There would be so many things Sivelle had never experienced. Happiness bloomed in his chest just thinking about it. He couldn’t wait to show her everything she had been missing.
Just ahead, a small track led from the main road. As they reached it, Haros paused to survey the snow. He brushed aside the fine, fresh snowfall to see the frozen earth beneath.
“What are you doing?” Sivelle asked, her voice shook as she shivered.
“Looking for tracks.”
It was too dark to see for sure, but as he ran his fingertips across the surface, he felt lots of deep pits and gouges. He dug a little deeper, finally finding something conclusive. Horse prints. Lots of them.
“Come on, I think it’s this way.” He gestured for Sivelle to follow.
The princess didn’t question him. They walked on, heading deeper into the wilderness. An owl hooted and flew out of the tree with a loud screech in their direction. Haros startled, but Sivelle remained glazed and emotionless. Haros cast his eyes over her with concern. He needed to get her warmed up urgently.
As they trudged on, a large, dark shape loomed from the mist ahead. A building. Feeling hopeful, Haros sped up his pace and grasped hold of Sivelle, dragging her along with him.
The narrow track opened up to reveal a small stone cottage. A little way in the distance was a circular pen and several long, narrow barns. He couldn’t see clearly through the darkness, but Haros hoped they were stables.
A tiny, thick haired pony, oblivious to the thick blanket of snow on its back, stared at them from between the slats of the pen. Its ears were pricked sharply forward with interest.
Haros hesitantly led Sivelle to the wooden doorway. A silver horseshoe hung on the door, acting as a knocker. This had to be the right place. Haros reached out and struck the wood.
He waited patiently before knocking again. The soft glow of a candle shone through the murky glass in the door as someone shuffled to meet them. An older gentleman cracked the door open suspiciously.
“What time of night do you call this?” he grumbled.
“Apologies, we’ve been sent by Cirro. He said—”
“Goldwyrm sent you?” the man asked, eyeing Haros up and down. He glanced across to Sivelle and his eyes widened. “Well fuck me sideways.”
The faerie opened the door further. He was short, but stocky, with a greying beard and thinning hair. He gazed in surprise at Sivelle.
“Goldwyrm stopped by, shit, no more than a few hours ago, to say I was to expect the unexpected. He wasn’t joking.”
“Can we come in? It’s been a tough night,” Haros asked sheepishly.
The faerie hesitated, casting his eyes over him one last time before nodding and standing aside.
Comparative to the freezing conditions outside, the cottage was warm and it burned against Haros’s frozen skin. The tiny room was filled with horse-related bric-a-brac. A saddle was slung over the back of one of the chairs. The house smelt like leather and manure, but Haros was oddly comforted by that.
“What the fuck happened to you two?” the faerie asked. He snatched his candle and knelt beside a log fire. After arranging the wood inside, he held the candle out, touching it to the kindling. The man leant forward and blew on the flames a few times. When he was satisfied the fire was lit, he stood.
“I’m afraid we can’t stay long,” Haros dropped their satchels to the ground.
“Goldwyrm hinted as much. I won’t press.”
The faerie strode to a chalk board that was hanging on his wall and placed a tick next to the word ‘Chant.’
“Could we use your facilities?” Haros asked.
“Aye, feel free.” He glanced over them and wrinkled his nose, but pointed away down a corridor.
“Could we trouble you for a warm drink?”
“I suppose so.” The faerie snorted, and trailed off into what Haros presumed was the kitchen. He heard pots and pans clanging.
Sivelle was still shivering, that worrying glazed expression still painted on her face.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
Haros scooped their satchels off the floor and herded them into the bath chamber. He shut the door, placing a small metal hook into a loop to lock it.
Usually he would have taken great pleasure in disrobing Sivelle, but his concern for her health and his own shivering dimmed his lust considerably.
He unhooked the sodden cape he had placed around her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a wet slap. Next his numb fingers fumbled with the buttons on her tunic. Sivelle was soaked, even down to her thin undershirt. Her nipples protruded through the material, but Haros remained dutiful and whisked the shirt off before kneeling to dig through their bags.
“Mivian, you diamond,” he muttered under his breath as he came across another set of leather riding gear. Another silk undershirt was rolled up alongside. He pulled them free and laid them aside.
Haros stood and grabbed a small cloth from a cupboard, wetting it at the wash stand until it was dripping. The water wasn’t warm, but it felt scalding to his cold hands. He grasped Sivelle and quickly wiped her clean. It wouldn’t do much for the smell, but he figured it would be better than nothing.
“Here, wrap this around you,” he instructed, holding out a rough, scratchy towel. The material had clearl
y seen better days and had large holes and miscellaneous stains all over it, but Sivelle draped it over her shoulders, cuddling into the warmth.
Haros knelt again, this time unbuttoning Sivelle’s breeches. These were much harder to remove as they clung to her shapely bottom and thighs. He tugged down hard and Sivelle stumbled a little.
“Easy!” she gasped and reached out, grabbing Haros’s shoulder to steady herself. The demon glanced at her, pleased to see a little life was beginning to return to her eyes.
“This foot first,” he tapped her left leg and Sivelle obediently raised it. Haros yanked the sodden boot off, then repeated his actions for her right.
When Sivelle was stood before him, shivering in her wet brassier and knickers, Haros decided he might as well go the whole hog and undress her completely. Not only would it be more enjoyable for him, but the underwear she was wearing made him feel nauseous. He could still see her, lying on her bed and strapped to the headboard…
Haros shook himself and grasping her panties in one hand, tugged hard. He ripped them from her.
“What are you doing?!” Sivelle gasped, her eyes widened with surprise as she hastily covered her modesty with the towel.
“They were wet anyway, right?”
“Yes, but you didn’t need to rip them…” she huffed. The princess turned her back and shuffled out of her brassier. Once she had wrapped the towel around her, she held the bra out to Haros. He threw it to the side.
“I hope there’s a spare in those bags,” Sivelle grumbled.
Haros dug through the satchel, locating several pairs of underwear and another brassier. Mivian really had thought of everything.
“Which would you prefer?” He held up two pairs, one a dark turquoise, the other pale grey.
She snatched the lacey pale grey pair from his hand and shuffled into them. Her teeth were still chattering but she picked up the wet rag and attempted to sponge herself off as best she could.
Haros turned his attention to himself, shrugging out of the ripped silk shirt and stripped his sodden trousers off. He didn’t hesitate to completely undress. He took another rag from the cupboard and moistened it, washing himself down as the princess was doing.
Sivelle was hurriedly squeezing into a dry pair of riding breeches. Haros watched hungrily as she struggled to get them up over her generous bottom. He had never met Faye, but he presumed she was a little slighter than her older sister, judging by the skin-tight fit of her clothing. He wasn’t complaining.
He started to dig through his own belongings, relieved to be back in dry undergarments. He pulled on his leather breeches and started buttoning his shirt. He had only brought one change of clothes, so hoped there would be no more unfortunate pond diving incidents.
Once they were both fully dressed and Sivelle had dried her hair off as best she could, Haros stuffed their wet clothes into one of the satchels and transferred all the dry belongings into the other. They emerged from the bath chamber and headed back into the living area.
The stocky faerie was waiting for them with a tray of steaming drinks.
He grimaced as they returned. “Fuck me, you pair stink! I know my place isn’t exactly sweet, but hoo…”
“Yeah, sorry.” Haros shrugged and sat heavily on the lumpy, faded leather seat.
“Thank you.” Sivelle gestured to the mug, taking an eager sip. She wrapped her hands around it, soaking in the warmth.
The faerie cleared his throat. “So, pardon my rudeness, but I forgot to introduce myself. The name’s Riley Shodworth.”
Haros reached out to shake his hand. “Haros and, um…” he trailed off, looking to Sivelle for guidance. The princess simply shrugged.
“Sivelle Goldwyrm,” she replied.
Riley’s face was a picture. At first he stared blankly, then his eyes widened. Sweat beaded at his brow.
“A-as in the daughter of—”
“King Lazuli? Yes.” Sivelle looked away, blowing on her drink before taking another sip.
Haros knew she must be feeling all manner of mixed emotions inside, but the princess looked cool and collected. She had a haughty expression on her face. It was one he had begun to recognise as her defence against uncomfortable situations. He squeezed her knee reassuringly.
“Fuck!” Riley jumped up and began to pace back and forth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Cirro, I’m going to wring your neck, you--”
“We’ll be out of your hair and into Cirro’s as soon as possible. I swear it.” Haros smiled.
“Or his lack thereof.” Riley snorted, but continued to pace. “That fucking… what has he got me into this time?”
“He said you’d be able to lend us a horse. We’re on our way to—”
“No! Don’t tell me. The less I know about all this, the better!” Riley gestured with a thumb over his shoulder towards the blackboard. “The horse, Chant, is tacked up, ready and waiting. I figured you might need to make a quick getaway once you’d warmed through a little.”
“Yes, we’ll finish these drinks and get on our way.” Haros nodded.
“How do you and my uncle know one another? If you don’t mind my asking,” Sivelle said, casting her eyes curiously around the room.
“Now that’s a long story, one for another time and a stronger drink than tea,” Riley chortled. “Let’s just say I owe Cirro a debt of thanks. One that he seems keen to have me repay sooner rather than later!” He shook his head in disbelief.
Sivelle and Haros sipped their drinks quietly, whilst Riley paced back and forth in front of them. The faerie looked on edge, keen to get them out of his house.
Haros sighed. Now he was finally beginning to thaw out, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. What he wouldn’t give for a warm bed. It made his head ache just thinking about going back out in the cold and making the lengthy ride to Rosenhall.
They may encounter more king’s guard on their way. There would be more worry, panic and fighting. He pinched his nose and frowned.
Sivelle placed her hand on his thigh and the demon looked across at her. She was gazing back at him quizzically.
“Are you alright?” she muttered.
“Peachy. Just tired, that’s all.”
The princess cast him a sympathetic look and leant in to rest her head on his shoulder whilst she drank the rest of her tea.
Haros couldn’t relax, not yet. He needed to focus. Sivelle wasn’t safe and he refused to rest until she was.
No sooner had Haros downed the last dregs of his drink, Riley had snatched the metal mug from his hands.
“Right, so I suppose you two will be off then,” he said, scratching his beard.
Sivelle slid her mostly empty mug across to him and got to her feet. Haros stood with her, picking up their satchels, and ushered her past him. Riley rushed to the door, almost throwing it off its’ hinges in his haste.
Haros and Sivelle followed dutifully behind as the short man strode off into the darkness. There was the glow of dusk, just beginning to peak over the horizon.
A large black stallion stood a short distance away, tethered to a wall by a length of rope. As he lifted his head, his dark, intelligent eyes watched them approaching.
A loud screech from the canopy above drew their attention. Horses in nearby stables shrieked with fear. Chant, simply startled and stamped his hooves.
Nyre swooped down from the trees and Riley dived into the undergrowth with a yelp. The dragonette landed smoothly, hurrying to reunite with her companions.
“Hey beauty,” Haros greeted her as she shoved him affectionately with her nose. “Glad to see you made it out alright.”
Sivelle stroked the dragonette and peppered her snout with kisses. Nyre cooed happily.
“What the fuck?” Riley shouted, staring over at them with eyes wide. “That beast is with you two?”
Haros grinned at the bewildered look the faerie shot them as he got back to his feet. Chant snorted loudly and his ears pricked in the dragonette’s direction.
Riley untethere
d the stallion and walked him forward to meet them. Although the horse was clearly wary, he bravely followed behind the faerie.
“This here’s Chant. Couldn’t ask for a better steed, especially if you’re wanting a quick getaway. He’s sharp, by far the fastest I’ve got. Got a bold, scopey jump too if needs be. Have either of you done much riding?”
“Not for many years, but there was a time I was rarely off them,” Haros replied. He stepped forward and held his hand out for the horse. Chant’s large nostrils flared and hot breath puffed against his skin as the stallion sniffed him curiously.
“What about you princess?”
“A little. I’ve ridden with Faye once or twice, but I’m no expert!”
Sivelle left Nyre’s side to greet the stallion and the dragonette huffed enviously.
Chant shook his head, buckles clinking, and stretched his nose to the ground to hunt for any sparse patches of grass.
“Sounds like you’d be best taking the reins then,” Riley nodded at Haros and held out the rope for him.
Haros dropped the satchels and gathered Chant’s reins in his hand, slipping his foot into the stirrup. He heaved himself up into the saddle, whilst Chant fidgeted beneath him, swishing his tail. Haros shifted to get comfortable. Memories of hunting with the Black Bones came flooding back.
When he was a younger man, he had spent many an afternoon on horseback, careening through the forest, chasing down deer or boars with the other initiates. He wouldn’t class himself as an expert rider by any means, but he knew enough to get them to where they were headed and hopefully out of trouble.
“Your turn now,” Riley motioned Sivelle over to him. She reached up and grasped Haros’s hand, whilst the stocky faerie heaved her weight up onto the horse.
Sivelle’s slender frame slipped easily onto the saddle in front of Haros. He shifted back a little, to give her as much room as he could.
Riley expertly hooked their belongings to the saddle bags either side of the stallion. Chant pawed the ground with his hoof, eager to head off on their adventure.