Heart of Leoth: [HAITUS]

Part XV ~ Dura

She was not sure which direction they rode in, did not ask, she just clung to the thick leather tunic of Daegar's back and kept her head down and her eyes closed and willed the distance between them and Prissia to grow. Beneath the horse, she'd felt the land tilt and turn, rise and flatten, before the sound of it changed from loud roughened stone to soft pillowed grass before finally the motion eased and slowed. Stopping. 

She must have dosed and some point because when she lifted her head and blinked open her eyes the sun was beginning to rise, pale and iced over from the cool air of the night. She had not felt the chill as they rode; the mare beneath her had been warm, as had Daegar, but now he slipped from the saddle and led the horse to a small bubbling rook just ahead and the early dawn frost nipped at her throat.

Dura rubbed the gritty sleep from her eyes and looked around. It was a thick forest, trees taller than any on Zybar, large fronds that hugged around their trunks and tried to reach up, the forest floor a soft velvety green.

While the horse drank, Daegar reached into the saddle bag and pulled out a canteen, twisting the cap off first before holding it out to her. He eyed her steadily, gaze gentle. She took it from him and sipped, the water was tepid but satisfying upon her dry throat. When she handed it back Daegar drank and then upturned it and moved to refill it in the stream. Dura slid from the saddle, groaning with relief as the feeling returned to her thighs and buttocks, hips and back aching from the countless hours in the same position. How many hours had it been since they'd left the sharp glass walls of Prissia behind? Daegar was beside her again, offering her some of the cool water he'd deposited in the canteen. She shook her head. He shoved it back into the saddle and pulled out the wrap of sweet bread and peeled open the fabric, tearing her a piece from the crisped corner. She shook her head again. Daegar glowered.

"You must eat," he said.

"I am not hungry."

"It matters not." His eyes were gentle, concern evident in them. Just as there had been when she'd found him last night. "You must eat."

She stared up at him. Exhaustion weighed over his eyes, the set of his full mouth, the wide brim of his shoulders. But he was concerned only with whether she ate. Drank.

"You should have said no," she said. Fear sliced through her, not for herself for she knew that Valdr could not hurt her, not really. What would he do? Kill her? No. Not a princess of Zybar, his taken wife. Zybar's honour would not suffer such an insult — and he could not afford to fight a war on three fronts, no king could. But Daegar was not important to Valdr. Her strong, silent, protective guard would be sent to the gods for what he had done. "Why didn't you refuse me?"

"I am your Khohn," he replied. 

"As you were the night on the beach. Yet how easily you refused me then."

Pain lanced across his golden eyes, guilt too. He held out the bread to her again. This time she took it, their fingers grazing as she did. As he went to pull away she gripped his sleeve, longer than he had worn in Zybar. There the dark markings that trailed like art over his skin were worn proudly. Here they peeked out of the high collar he wore and over the backs of his hands like a filthy secret.

She was not sure why she mentioned it, for she hated thinking of it. That night she'd begged for him like a whore. Except now she felt frayed thin and pulled tight and there was little keeping everything inside her from bursting out. Daegar kept his eyes lowered and said nothing. 

"Return," she said. "Tell them you found my chamber empty when you arrived last night, tell them you rode off to look but found no trace of me." It was a stupid idea. One Valdr would never believe. Likely he would have Daegar's head for misplacing her. Even though Daegar did not answer to Valdr, did not protect her on Valdr's order. His was a Zybar oath, written in blood: Dura's and his.