SONG VIBE: ???? ??? (Strange) ft. RM - Agust D

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  SAPHIRA

  Silva Sanguinis, Renatus

  They rode deeper into the Silva Sanguinis—The Forest of Blood—following a lightly worn path with a gradual incline. Saphira shifted around in Scarlett’s saddle, her legs aching as it took all her strength to simply stay in the saddle; she did not know if she could endure the ride to Horrocks Pass. The air smelled musky, almost rotting, death mixing with the surrounding scent of the woody forest.

  I have to keep going, she thought, For my baby.

  Saphira shivered and curled her numb hands around the horse’s reins. She wished she wore her leather gloves, lined with lambswool. Everything’s gone.

  Saphira reached up and spun the crystalith studs in her ears, feeling their familiar warmth; I have the one thing I want, she smiled, this last gift from my mother. Her hand touched the huge crystalith pendant on her neck, disgust rising in her throat, and this reminded me of my father. She balled her fingers into a fist, I have to wear it—it will keep me safe from the nightspawn.

  That’s not all I have, she thought, I put my sketchbook in my pocket before I went to talk to Father!

  Her hand dove inside her pocket and found it empty. Saphira let out a prolonged exhalation; she felt too exhausted to cry. She was glad for her veil, for it hid the sinking weight of resignation on her expression.

  Looking around, Saphira saw she rode in the exact middle of the line, protected from front and back. At the point of the division, Nocturne rode in silence. He wore comfortable riding leathers with light leather armour, a soft linen shirt, a leather cowl, and a forest green woollen cloak to keep away the cold. His head darted left and right, his body twitching at the sounds of the forest.

  I just assumed he would be happy to have a baby, Saphira thought, but what if I was wrong? He has hardly looked at me.

  Saphira swallowed, her mouth completely dry. She coughed, and then coughed so hard she leaned over Scarlett and vomited bile.

  I’m travelling to a strange land with strange men, she thought, I have a stranger’s baby in my belly, and I’ll give birth amongst strange women. Saphira resisted the urge to pull the reins and gallop back to her tower. She prayed, Almighty help me—I’ve got nothing. I’m afraid.

  “Careful there, Lady Saphira,” came a voice, as warm as a summer breeze.

  Felix rode alongside her on a dappled grey horse. He sat with an effortlessly relaxed posture. His honey brown hair was windswept and shone faintly in the dim light of the thick forest, while his warm, golden eyes held a comforting glow. His easy grin revealed straight teeth marred by a slightly crooked incisor.

  “You looked like you were about to slide right off your saddle there,” he said, his tone teasing but kind. “It’s not the most graceful exit, I promise you—from experience.”

  Saphira nodded politely. Her vision began to blacken at the edges as her stomach ached with hunger.

  “Not in the mood to talk? I understand. I’ll carry the load. I’m Felix, by the way. Call me Felician if you’re feeling formal, but I gotta warn you—it’ll sound like you’re mad at me.”

  She gave him a weak nod but said nothing, her stomach clenching uncomfortably.

  “How about this... what if I told you I’m the person here who knows all the secrets about keeping pregnant women alive and relatively sane?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “My wife’s expecting our second, so I’m basically an expert.”

  “You could have opened with that!” Saphira let out a half-mad, half-joyous laugh.

  “I haven’t slept for two days," Felix admitted. He held out his waterskin. “Take it. You’re dehydrated, and you’ll feel better.”

  Saphira hesitated.

  “You need it more than anyone here,” Felix reassured.

  Accepting the waterskin, she drank deeply, the cool water soothing her dry throat. When she reached halfway, Saphira forced herself to stop, though she still thirsted. She tried to hand it back, but Felix shook his head. “It’s too easy to die of thirst.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Finish it. I can always find more water.”

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  Above: Felix offers his waterskin.

  She took another sip, slower this time, savouring the cool relief as it pushed away her morning sickness.

  “Better, right? Now, the next part of the treatment plan: food.” With expert grace as he rode along, Felix reached over into her saddlebag and rummaged with exaggerated enthusiasm. “You’re in luck, for today’s feast, you can pick from stale bread or old beef jerky.”

  Saphira snatched the bread, guzzling it down in a few bites. She felt a small amount of strength return, and she sat higher in the saddle. As she nibbled on the toughened corner of the jerky, she said, “Where is all your food?”

  “We came straight from the Shadowlands." The easy smile faded from Felix’s mouth. "Well, all those that could manage the speed of the ride—the wounded returned to Firestone.” A deep frown held his expression. “We had to get to you before…”

  “The Duke of Hyland.”

  Felix nodded soberly; his full lips held shut. His warmth in his pale gold eyes grew distant.

  Saphira’s chest tightened as she looked ahead at the dark, winding forest path. She allowed her thoughts to wander. There is no going back, she reminded herself, I was always going to leave Renatus, be it with Lord Nocturne or the Duke of Hyland. A flicker of strength returned as the bread and water settled in her stomach. My husband came back for me, Saphira thought. He wanted me.

  “Wait a moment,” Felix said with a small laugh, his thumb pulling his sword out of the scabbard by a single inch. “Come, Benny,” he murmured to his dapple-grey mount as he veered off into the bushes, his mirth fading as a deadly mask rested on his expression.

  Saphira’s cold hands gripped tighter on her reins. Don’t overthink it; you are safe, Saphira closed her eyes, trying to block out every sound except for the hooves of the horses crunching on the forest floor.

  From behind Saphira, the sound of hooves drew nearer.

  “Lady Saphira,” a sharp, dry voice interrupted her thoughts.

  Saphira turned to see August riding toward her, his roan horse moving with a sluggish exhaustion. August held the reins loosely in one hand, while the other was concealed beneath his dark wool cloak, favouring his uninjured side. His platinum-blonde hair was streaked with dirt and sweat, and the pallor of his porcelain skin was tinged with greyish-black veins. August’s silver-grey eyes flickered with indifference.

  He stopped me from falling off the walls, Saphira thought with a shudder, That would have taken an enormous amount of magical power. She cast a cautious, sideways glance at the mage, feeling the power—even in his exhaustion—radiating from him.

  Above: August overused his magic.

  “Sir Augustus, was it?”

  “Only if I’m addressing the king. Otherwise, it’s August.” He studied her slumped posture with an irritated glance. “Pay attention to the path, and sit up straight,” he instructed curtly. “You’ll injure your mount if you ride like that.” His tone softened only slightly as he muttered, “Who taught you how to ride?”

  “No one,” Saphira replied, her voice quiet but tinged with defiance. “I’m just tired, is all.”

  “You’re not the only one,” he said flatly. “Just focus on staying upright. We’ll rest when it’s safe.”

  Determined, she straightened her spine, gripping the reins tightly. Beneath her dress, her wound throbbed—a deep, tearing pain that pulled at the skin over her chest. Saphira bit her lip to stifle a whimper.

  When August looked away to stare into the depths of the forest, she slipped her fingers beneath the fabric to check the gash left by the Duke’s dragon claw cane. Her fingertips came away sticky with blood, which she wiped hastily on the lining of her dress, hiding the evidence. She clung to Scarlet's back, praying she would not fall off.

  "You know, if you're hiding something, it's better to come clean." August pressed forward, manoeuvring Astra beside Saphira. "We'll find out eventually."

  "I don't know what you're talking about." She grimaced, feeling the wound burn hot.

  "It seems like tricking a truthstone is a family pastime." The mage's silver-grey gaze fell to Saphira's belly. "Show me your fingertips."

  Saphira drew back, hiding her fingers—and the blood on them—in her fur coat.

  "What do you have to hide?" He held out his hand, his own blackened fingers flexing, expecting.

  "Nothing, but I—"

  The sound of rustling leaves drew their attention. Felix emerged from the woods, his hook sword drawn as he wiped the blade. “I hope you're playing nice, August." Felix paused, his golden eyes flicking between the two of them, narrowing slightly. He broke out into a wide smile, diffusing the tension instantly. "Now, have you been giving her riding lessons?” he teased, his honey brown hair glinting as he sheathed his blade. “Or just lecturing her to death?”

  “Lecturing? Hardly." August gave Felix a weary, pointed look. "It’s not like I’m a model equestrian myself."

  Felix teased, “Well, a pregnant woman is out-riding you, so watch out!”

  A strange look flickered through the mage’s expression as he looked at the tiny curve of Saphira’s belly. “C’mon, Astra.” He kicked his roan horse, speeding her up so he could catch up to Nocturne.

  “Don’t listen to him, Saphira—he’s just jealous of all the attention you're getting,” Felix chuckled, shaking his head.

  Saphira wanted to smile, but instead, she touched her stomach self-consciously. August thinks I'm a liar. She thought, Does Felix doubt me, too? Do they think this is another of my father’s tricks?

  She grimaced as she searched the dark forest for Nocturne, thinking, Does he believe me? I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't believe me...