The Blood King - Chapter Twenty-One (Patreon)

Nymira

Cassian is waiting for me with a handful of his men near the edge of the camp. I recognize a few of the faces now that I’ve spent so much time among them. Cassian tends to keep the same men around me. Even they have become comfortable with the situation, none of them staring as I approach. Caius is among the men who wait. He keeps his expression neutral when he sees me, which I am sure is because of our last conversation.

I wasn’t the most pleasant, and he wasn’t either, reminding me of the danger I am to everyone. He briefly glances in my direction, dipping his chin in respect. But other than that, he doesn’t acknowledge me. I bite down the bitterness I feel in my chest, focusing my attention on Cassian, who still has his back to me.

He’s securing Zephyr’s saddle for me. I quietly admire his physique from behind, recalling the warmth that I felt in the river from him being so close—from inhaling that strange scent. The warmth wasn’t unpleasant, which has never been the case for me. It’s a new feeling I’m both hesitant and excited to explore.

Cassian pulls the saddle tight, pulling my attention to his muscular arms covered in the markings of an Ancient. They look much different from mine, the two small markings that I have, making me curious about the Dragonborn culture. What did Cassian do to earn all of those markings on his form?

Each time I’ve earned a marking was because I lost control and used a power that has eluded me for years. Even now, I cannot control it. So much so, that Cassian nor Caius trust me with it. It makes my determination to learn more about myself as an Ikniri and an Ancient shift to desperate. I don’t like being in the dark. Especially around someone like Cassian. He is more of a mystery than when he refused to reveal himself to me.

There is clearly a part of him that doesn’t trust me deeper than my lack of control. His controlled hate for what I am is clear. And yet, he isn’t entirely cruel, though his words are. His actions are different. Even when I raised a blade against him, he remained present, not killing me for being an Ikniri attacking him—a king. Which is another mystery in itself. If Cassian is a king, where does that place him in the war of the Ancients? Was he part of it? Does he know the Blood King, or is he ignoring everything that happened with the war?

I know not to trust him entirely. He has told me multiple times I am more useful to him alive than dead. Whether or not that is a good thing is up to time to tell.

 Cassian senses me, turning to face me once he’s secured Zephyr, with his reins in hand. His expression remains neutral as he watches me, and I am pulled in by that ember gaze. My heart beats slightly faster, but not in the intimidated way that it once did. It’s a new feeling that twists my stomach. Once I am directly in front of him, I am surrounded by the suffocating aura that I’ve come to associate with him. It’s hard to believe he is the same Dragonborn that turned flushed at the sight of me naked.

I hold out the cloak he wrapped around me this morning, and he takes it from me, trading me for Zephyr’s reins, still refusing to speak. His eyes shift from the cloak in his hands to the one that I wear—Peyra’s. His gaze lingers on the holes and the frayed hem.

“It was Peyra’s. It makes me feel close to her, wearing it,” I say.

He doesn’t speak, letting silence drift between us. Just when I think he isn’t going to talk, he whips away from me, moving to his horse, but I hear what he grumbles under his breath.

“As long as you’re wearing something.”

I lower my head, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. He is still thrown by my nudity, even if his presence doesn’t seem like it. I watch him as he mounts his horse, turning to face me.

“Well? Are you planning on staying here?” he snaps.

I release a soft laugh, shaking my head as I mount Zephyr, leading him to Cassian’s side. I keep my eyes locked to his, ignoring the twisting discomfort from being so close. I try to focus on the flutter in my chest that isn’t unpleasant.

“Lead the way, Your Majesty,” I say.

Cassian’s eyes darken, and he keeps my gaze as he shouts orders to his men in a language I cannot understand. But as everyone moves, I know he has given them the command to move out, and I make sure to remember the phrase, slowly learning the language whenever I can.

Cassian avoids me for the entirety of the day. But I don’t mind it. It gives me an opportunity to admire this half of the world. Peyra was right. It’s massive. I had no idea how big the world truly was. I thought it was no bigger than the forests I was raised in. I had never seen anything beyond them, and we never left. That was my world—my reality.

But this forest is much different. The grass is different, the flowers are new, and they cover entire bushes. Unlike the rocky terrain Peyra and I endured, this one is flat and smooth. The smells are even different, and I feel myself growing content as I look around, the sounds of the forest growing louder.

“Are you alright?” I flinch as Caius suddenly appears next to me. I didn’t hear him approach, nor did I sense him.

I look at him in confusion, quickly composing myself.

“Yes…I’ve just never seen anything like this,” I say.

Caius looks around in confusion.

“I thought you were raised in a forest,” he says.

I shake my head. “Not like this. This one is much different. Even the flowers are different,” I say, looking at them as we pass.

“Peyra was right. The world is big,” I say.

Before Caius can respond, Cassian barks something from up ahead, giving his men a command in a different language. I watch him from my place, narrowing my gaze. I can’t help but wonder if he is doing it on purpose.

“What is he saying?” I ask.

Caius hesitates, watching Cassian for a moment before responding.

“To be cautious of our surroundings,” he says.

I look around in confusion. Other than the greenery growing, I see no threat. I don’t even sense it.

“Are we in danger?” I ask.

Caius makes a face. “We…are in Thrae territory,” he says.

“Thrae?” I repeat.

Caius’s confusion deepens, almost bordering on concern as he watches me.

“You don’t know about the Thrae?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“What about the Marina? Or even the Xindrite?” he asks.

Caius seems so appalled that I know nothing about these names. But I still shake my head. He looks away from me to Cassian. There is obviously a line he cannot cross for fear of his king.

I scoff, pulling his attention.

“Should I ask Cassian myself?” I ask.

Caius slowly nods, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Right. I forgot we are not friends,” I say, gently pressing my heels against Zephyr’s stomach to urge him to move faster than the caravan. I hear Caius call my name, but it is low and under his breath. So I continue to move towards Cassian.

But something catches my attention. It’s a scent. It’s the scent of the forest. It’s grown much stronger, I realize. It makes me forget why I wanted to speak to Cassian in the first place, as I am once again drawn into this place's beauty. The scent is overwhelming. It fills my senses, until all I can think of is…nothing.

I pull against Zephyr’s reins, slowing him down as I look into the canopy of flowers overhead. They drop towards the ground, and as a gentle breeze wafts through, I close my eyes. It feels wonderful.

“Nymira!”

I hear my name, but I don’t know what direction it comes from. And as I open my eyes, I am met with a strange sight. Not only Cassian, but most of his men rush towards me with panicked expressions. I don’t know what I could’ve done now. I haven’t even used my power.

I feel a light tug on my ankle, pulling my attention. When I look down, I see a thick vine wrapped around it. Confusion washes over me, and suddenly, my stomach dips as I am pulled from my horse.

I cry out as I collide with the ground, and seconds later I am roughly dragged from the caravan.

The last thing I see is Cassian’s expression. He looks angry, more angry than I’ve ever seen him as he dismounts his horse, flames forming on his arms. And as he attacks, thick greenery forms in front of me, closing us off as I am dragged deeper into the brush.