Blayre and Rory rode hard for more than half the night, completely avoiding the Crown Road that ran along the river, and taking a circuitous route that Blayre hoped would throw a potential pursuer from their trail. So far, their brief journey had been predictable - travel by day, by direct route, and sleep by night. It was severely apparent that hiding Rory in plain sight was no longer an option.
Now they combed through the hills and vales of the Emarian countryside. Farms were plentiful here, and much of the dirt road was surrounded by thick trees that kept them mostly hidden. Blayre spotted a manor house in the distance but though she longed for a real bed, she did not so much as entertain the thought of calling on the hospitality of the small estate at risk of putting Rory in more danger.
"We have to rest the horses." The duke finally called to her, breaking the long silence that had clung to the desperation of their escape.
Blayre nodded assent and stopped at the next reasonable area to make camp - a heavily wooded area on a hilltop overlooking a vale through which the River Cel, coursed.
"I don't think that anyone will be pursuing us anytime soon." Rory said, appearing from behind his horse where he had been rubbing down the gelding for the night. "They didn't likely expect us to flee like that." Blayre felt his bulky presence behind her as she finished tending to Dove whose head drooped in exhaustion.
"Sorry girl," She murmured, giving her a final pat and turning to Rorrick.
"Thank you," He said softly, he was closer than she had realized and she swallowed uncomfortably, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands.
"It's my duty to keep you safe." She replied dumbly. Stupid. That was a stupid response, she cursed inwardly.
"I know, and thank you all the same. But if the time should come, and your life is at risk, I would prefer you did not not risk yours for mine. Too many do that for me already." Blayre had a difficult time reading his face in the darkness, but the hitch in his voice was unmistakeable.
"I think that comes with the territory, begging your pardon." She said with a half-smile, touching a hand briefly to his arm. "You're no great leader if your people are not willing to lay their lives down for you."
"I suppose that is true, but it doesn't make it any easier." Rory let out a long sigh as if he had been holding it in for years. "I am grateful that you are using your skills to keep me safe."
She tensed slightly. But he didn't know about her Sense. Not yet anyway. Hopefully not ever. She couldn't imagine what kind of implication it would have on her if someone with his kind of influence knew. She shivered, rolling out her bedroll. "I'm not certain how to arrange a watch when I'm the only one here to guard you. . . " Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
"I'll take first watch. I can wake you if anything is amiss."
Blayre nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. "I suppose that makes the most sense. If your would-be assassin is pursuing us, we probably had a good enough head start that they won't come upon us the first half of the night."
"Well that's reassuring." Rory chuckled, rolling out his own bedroll. He sat on it, leaning his back against an enormous oak tree and pulling a piece of jerky from his pack. "The only thing," he said between chews, "About such a speedy departure . . . is that we did not have time to pack the proper provisions."
Blayre cocked an eyebrow, "The only thing, eh?"
He nodded in mock seriousness, "Yes. The only thing." He took a swig from his canteen. "Come, sit. If you're not going to sleep yet." He patted the spot next to him. Blayre looked at him, a small amount of heat rushing through her, glad of the darkness to hide the flush of her cheeks because Moon and Sun, Rorrick de Vihrea was bewitchingly handsome. And completely out of your reach.
Blayre dug her own road provisions from her pack and sat down next to him, smirking slightly.
"Whatever is so amusing, Blumore?"
"Just - that I never thought I would find myself sitting on the ground on the run for our lives, with an heir to the throne, choking down dried meat." Her fingers plucked at a soft blade of grass beside her.
"Well, I'm sure I will be even more distant in the succession once Bri is married and produces heirs of her own." He stretched a long leg out in front of him, scratching at his knee.
"You sound . . . happy . . . about that?"
"Is it that obvious?" He smirked, popping the last bite of jerky into his mouth. She studied his face in the dim glow of the lantern - the only light they had risked lighting since it didn't give off a telltale plume of smoke. Now would have been a pretty good time to be traveling with a mage.
"Yes," She said finally, wrapping her arms around drawn up knees, and resisting the urge to move closer for warmth, as she would have with Fletcher and Ainslee. She glanced back up at him, "Though I confess I'm not sure I understand why."
Rory's eyes were distant, staring off into the darkness. "You probably wouldn't know what it feels like, to be used because of something you were born to. Everyone clamoring for your attention - but never really knowing which of those people you can trust. Being forced into roles you find uncomfortable, or being taught things you hope you'll never be responsible to use."
A pang of guilt shot through her. She had been saved from feeling used. Her father and Aunt Aphria had made certain of that when her Sense had become apparent to them. "I guess, we just assume that people in power always want that power."
"Not always." Was all Rory said. A silence followed, exaggerated by the crisp quiet around them.
Blayre shivered, the chill of the night getting to her. "Well, I'm going to get some rest." She stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her breeches.
Rory smiled "I will wake you if anything is amiss." He snuffed the lantern, and leaned back against the tree.
"You'd better." She grumbled, but it was half-hearted as she stumbled into her bedroll and wrapped her scarf around her head to keep out the frost of spring nights. At least it wasn't raining, she thought briefly before sleep took her in its grips.
****
Blayre could see the brightness of sunlight against her eyelids before she opened them. She smelled leather and horse, her face was pressed into the smoothness of Dove's saddle, and she was bundled up in a scarf and bedroll. Feeling disoriented, she sat up and wiped at the faint wetness of drool on her cheek, making a face. Why was she sleeping on the forest floor? She sniffed. And what was that delicious smell? She looked around for Fletcher or Ainslee, expecting one of them to be tending the fire.
"Good morning." The chipper male voice was decidedly not Fletcher's.
Rory.
Blayre nearly jumped out of her skin. "Bloody hells Rory. Did I sleep the whole night?"
He looked sheepish as he heated some sort of hot grain on the fire. "You did. And I maybe slept most of the night too."
Blayre let out a stream of curses not befitting a noblewoman, disentangled herself from her bedding, and sprung to her feet.
"Well, there's no need to get upset. Nothing bad happened." Rory pointed out, waving the stirring spoon across the small clearing they had made camp in the previous night.
"But it could have. Oh, Moon and Sun." Blayre grumbled as she stumbled around, securing her weapons to her person. "I'll deal with you in a moment. Don't move." She pointed an accusing finger at the redheaded heir, and clomped off into the denser foliage beyond their camp to relieve herself.
Rory was right where she had left him, crouched over the small fire he had built. An amused smirk lit his ruddy features. She wanted to slap it off of him. Was he going to just sit there on his haunches smiling like a fox with a mouthful of feathers? This was serious.
"Is something amusing, your grace?" Blayre hissed, knowing she shouldn't let his title slip, but feeling too provoked to bother with their ruse just then.
He shrugged, unperturbed, "Just that you are quite amusing when you are angry."
Blayre could feel her face burning as the anger continued to billow up in her like the sails of a boat filling with wind. "Do you not see the severity of this situation or do you just not care?"
Rory looked thoughtful, stirring the small pot of food. "I suppose I don't truly care."
"Well I do. And you're burning the porridge."
The rest of the day progressed with Blayre remaining consistently heated, and Rory acting as though nothing of importance had occurred. He was on the receiving end of a glare every time he tried to broach conversation with her. She felt slightly bad - he was the duke, but if he did not wish to be treated as royalty then so be it. She wouldn't.
"How do you think Ripley is?" Rory inquired after a particularly long stretch of silence.
"I suspect he can take care of himself." Blayre said tartly. "I'm fairly certain that he could scare any foe away with his plentiful scowls."
"I could say the same about you right now."
"Perhaps you have that effect on people." She regretted her words the moment she said them. And the distant look that grew on Rory's face right before he looked away cemented her remorse.
"I'm sorry Rory. I didn't mean it."
More silence. "But it's true isn't it? It's a burden to be my friend, or even just my guard for that matter."
"Well you don't make it easy on those that want to protect you." Blayre grumbled - the most gentle her voice had been since the previous night.
Rory sighed. "I suppose I do."
"Aren't you even a little concerned as to who is behind the attempts?"
"Of course, but there isn't anything I can do about it until we get to the safety of the Capital." She watched as his hand clenched and unclenched on the reins. His bay gelding snorted, feeling the tension.
If the Capital is indeed safe. Blayre thought. Out here she could easily filter and sift through different magics - but a bustling, densely populated city and palace was a completely different story.
Hopefully this won't be your job after you deliver him in once piece, Blumore. She told herself. But was that really what she hoped? After the past few days could she melt back into the shadows so easily?
As the pair of riders topped a rise in the rolling green hills, Emares City's sprawling resplendency came into view, like a mother welcoming her children home with open arms. Blayre nearly deflated in relief. From the small frown that tugged at his mouth, she didn't think that Rory shared the sentiment. The city, located on the Eastern bank of the River Cel, was walled and a massive drawbridge was the main point of entry. The Cel glittered as it wove, serpentine beside the city. White stone made up the city wall and that of the massive Royal Palace that stood on its far side. The Palace, itself was a sight to behold, surrounded by canals and fountains and capped with forest green rooftops.
Dusk was settling on the city as they entered, the streetlamps beginning to light, casting a warm glow over the cobbled street of the central road in the Market District that cleft the city into two parts, leading straight toward the palace, through the Lower, Middle and Upper districts.
It was quiet during the springtime at this time of night, though the Capital's Nightmarket was beginning to set up. Blayre hurried Dove along, not wanting Rory to get anymore ideas.
"What happened to the ocarina?" He asked as they passed a music stall closer to the Middle District.
At first Blayre couldn't recall, but then the image of the broken instrument came to her, "It dropped while we were getting away." She admitted, her eyes burning a bit, thinking of the hours before that moment when they had been so carefree. The short time since then had made her feel as though they were a couple of fugitives.
"I'll get you another one."
"You don't have to, really."
"But I will anyway." He gave her a roguish grin.
They approached the fountain that marked the central point of the city. The circular base had a large diameter lined with colored magelights, and at the focal point of the fountain reared an impressive stone dragon, spouting water instead of fire, its wings spanning at least one horse length. Though real dragons were extinct, they still remained the symbol of Emares - sculpted into every Crown pin, embroidered onto every uniform, and flown proudly on the green and gold coat of arms.
During history lessons it had always intrigued Blayre, that as a country the creature they had chosen to represent them as strong and fearless, was also one they had obliterated from existence.
"I've missed the market, and all the charms of Emares City. We of course have markets and art in the Jeweled Isles. But everything is more. . ." Rory looked towards the sky, and Blayre couldn't help but fix her sight on the silhouette of his chiseled jaw, and slightly arched nose.
He looked back to her, eyes glittering in the lamplight, the glow of the fountain now casting a fiery look to his skin. She realized belatedly that he was waiting for her to say something.
"I'm sorry, I was caught in a daydream, what were you saying? Everything is more. . .?"
He smiled, and she thought she might melt right then and there.
"It isn't important." He was still looking at her, a smile curving his lips, and the pressure of his eyes making her shift self consciously in her saddle. Dove side stepped, sensing her rider's turbulence.
"No, tell me." She said, entranced.
"I was just saying that everything is not as new there as it is here. It's more ancient. Just as beautiful, if not more so, but on a smaller scale."
"I'd like to see it someday." She sighed wistfully.
"Perhaps one day you will." Rory winked, and they rode forward, more slowly this time, the horses hooves making a soft clip-clop, clip-clop on the cobblestone road.
As they rode on, everything suddenly seemed very still. Unease prickled at the back of Blayre's neck. "I think perhaps we should avoid the main road again." She steered Dove down a side street on their left, passing the more permanent shops in the Market district, and then entering Middle District, Rory and his gelding close behind.
"Are we being followed?" Rory craned his neck to look behind them.
Blayre shook her head, "I'm not sure. Something just feels wrong." Her hand went subconsciously to her pocket where she had once kept the crystal close. But of course it wasn't there. She was almost positive this was not the same threat, she didn't even think it was a magical threat, but at times it was difficult to differ between natural human instinct and Sense.
She wove them in and out through alleyways and side streets, darkness settling around them, but making the streetlamps seem so much brighter. Roasted meat and the soft clinking of silverware on plates signaled dinnertime in many of the houses in Middle District. Blayre's stomach growled longingly.
Soon enough.
Suddenly something smashed behind them, followed by a curse. Blayre wasted no time. "Get ahead of me, so I can cover you!" She hissed.
Rory opened his mouth and before he could get a word in she added "Don't argue with me or you'll sure as all hells get us both killed."
His mouth closed and he moved his gelding ahead of Blayre and Dove, but he still managed to mutter "Not sure how a wee lass like you is going to cover a tall fellow like myself."
They wound through the Middle District and eventually through Upper District, land of the more prosperous, where the large apartments and small homes gave way to sometimes extravagant townhouses.
Blayre was impressed with Rory's recollection of the city, but she did call out to him to make a few turns that she hoped would turn away their followers.
But the horses had ridden all day, and she could feel Dove tiring beneath her. She hoped that whomever was behind them had been going all day as well.
There was a commotion from somewhere above them, and Blayre screamed as a dark figure leapt from a rooftop, landing precariously on the rump of Rory's gelding. The bay horse screamed and reared, and the figure grappled to gain purchase, while Rory struggled to both control his startled horse, and get the assailant.
Panicked, Blayre fumbled for one of her throwing knives, and with a flick of her wrist, it embedded in the black-clad figure. The figure let out a cry of pain - a man's voice, and lost his grip on the rear of Rory's saddle. Dove side stepped to avoid the man, and the Seeker and the heir rushed onward toward the palace.
These assailants didn't have magic, and so Blayre could not tell if there were more or if it had just been one person. She doubted that it was an individual though, she had heard multiple voices behind them earlier in their race to get away.
The horses were really laboring now, and the Palace walls loomed ahead, but were still too far away for Blayre's liking. She turned her gaze upward, and took note of two figures on the rooftops.
Oh, if these nobles knew what was happening on their roofs.
"We have to ditch the horses!" Blayre called out.
Rory looked over his shoulder at her "Are you crazy!?"
"Do you trust me, or not?" She knew that Dove would head straight for the palace, because that was home to her. The horses were giving them speed, but they were also making them extremely conspicuous. If they went on foot, Blayre was convinced she could maneuver them through the shadows to get Rory safely inside the palace walls.
Rory began to dismount, and Blayre flung herself off of Dove like an acrobat, slapping the mare's rear with a "Yah!"
Without further hesitation, Blayre grabbed Rory's arm, dragging him in the direction of an alley between two townhouses. "Just keep twisting and turning, but head East." She told him, figuring he was going to overtake her anyway, long as his strides were.
"Keep to the shadows." Blayre hissed, panting when Rory blundered into a well-lit area.
"Take the lead then," He insisted. "There's no sense in me running ahead if I lead us into danger."
Blayre responded by picking up the pace to overtake Rory. Townhouses blurred beside her in bright hues and stone facades. She focused on her footfalls and her breathing - keeping everything as rhythmic as possible. Her instructors at the Academy had always said that if you could distract yourself enough from the physical labor of it, you could outrun the wind.
Outrunning the wind was pushing it a bit. But she just had to keep up the pace long enough to outrun the assailants on their tail.
As they sprinted from shadow to shadow, she resisted the urge to pull up her hood. I would surely make her feel more secure, but she couldn't sacrifice her peripheral vision. She wished Rory would wear his though, to mask his curls reflecting copper in the occasional lamplight.
Breathing heavily, Blayre slowed putting her hand out for him to stop, and motioned for him to follow her lead, and press up against a stone wall. "We're almost there." She panted. She glanced up at the rooftops above, semi-satisfied with the lack of movement. "If we take it nice and slow from here, we should be able to be more careful about where we're walking, and make it there in one piece."
They stalked through the shadows, winding their way toward the palace gates, looming ahead. These weren't the main gates, but rather the Service entrance where the Seekers, soldiers and sorcerers passed in and out. At this time of night it would be quiet here, with fewer onlookers.
Blayre reached out with her sense once more, but all she could feel were the mage-guards up ahead. Just get to them, and we're in the clear.
"Halt." The guards called as Blayre and Rory approached. One strode out toward them, his magic mostly contained, but leaking out a bit like a crack in a bronze waterpipe.
"Names."
"Seeker Blayre of Blumore . . ." She turned to Rory.
"Duke Rorrick de Vihrea. Crown heir." he said, sounding resigned.
The guard squinted at him dubiously, but shrugged. "Wrists."
A man of many words. Blayre thought as she held out the underside of her right wrist for inspection. The mark that had been magically imprinted on her, marking her as a Crown Servicemember glowed under the mage-guard's hovering hand - the outline of a dragon crossed by two swords.
"Good. Proceed."
"I'll wait for him, it's important that he's delivered in one piece." Said Blayre. "Hey, did any horses pass through here by chance?"
The guard looked back and forth between Blayre and Rory's wrist which showed a crowned dragon. "Welcome back, your Grace." the mage said, bowing before he turned back to Blayre. "Yes, several minutes ago, I believe your horse, and an unmarked gelding came meandering up to the gates. I take it the big bay belonged to you," The mage-guard jerked his head in Rory's direction.
"Aye," Rory replied "And if you could get us past these palace walls a bit quicker - we may have some vagrants on our tails."
This caused the otherwise bland mage-guard some alarm as he ushered them into the gate, yelling "Secure the walls!" To his comrade "Spread the word!"
Blayre and Ripley described the situation as best they could,
"It will be taken care of your grace." Said the mage-guard. "I will make sure the city guards are put on high alert. You will receive an update tomorrow. For now, please make way to your lodgings. Shall I assign a guard to accompany you?"
"No, I'd rather continue to lay low." Rory replied. "If anyone has need of me before morning, I'll be in the barracks, avoiding any fuss for the night."
Blayre groaned inwardly. She had hoped that he would head to his quarters in the palace - wherever they were, so she could be relieved of her guard duties.
Maybe tomorrow. She thought as she led the heir to the crown to the service barracks.