Guardian of Calandria | ✔️

Chapter Two

           Hooves clopping against the dirt echoed in Kira's head. Her eyes fluttered open. Pain tore at her body, searing from toes to head, she surveyed her surroundings. White sheets bound one arm to her chest, tied by a thick white bandage wrapping around her torso. She lay at a slant, resting on a litter dragging behind the rear of a horse. Her free hand rose to her face, feeling the hard bump above her right eye. Kira groaned as she tried to sit up.

"Whoa, boy." Ry's voice seemed distant. She heard his boots land in the dirt before his head hung over her. Hair blanketed his face as he looked down on her. "It's about time your lazy rump woke up. I've been dragging you for two days now! Of course you would decide to wake up when we're a day from the Glades."

"What happened?" she asked. Ry's hands linked under her arms, helping her slide off the litter. She stumbled, falling into his chest with a grunt. He righted her, helping her steady herself before letting go.

"I was hoping you could tell me." He led her over to sit on a rock before grabbing a water flask from the saddle satchel.

Kira took a sip and closed her eyes, trying to remember what happened back at the castle. Her last thoughts were leaving the Coming of Age dance. Everything after that point hit an empty void. She re-opened her eyes and looked up to Ry.

She shook her head. "Last thing I remember is wanting some air after the lamest marriage proposal in the world."

Ry laughed. "You think that was the lamest? Even more than Brocks proposal to Janie on the last solstice?" He crossed his arms, muscles rippled through his beige tunic. Ry liked to wear the tightest tunics he could find. Anything to give him an edge with the ladies was all right by him. Sometimes Kira hated how he embraced his looks to the point of arrogance. They were complete opposites in every way, but there was nobody in her life, aside from her aunt, she trusted more than Ry.

"Not in the mood, Ry." Kira's head throbbed, she leaned forward. The water gurgled in her stomach before she vomited all over Ry's feet.

His nose wrinkled. "And it's not even my birthday," he said. He shook the puke off one boot. "This is one present you could've kept."

"I hate you."

He laughed. "No you don't."

"Fine. But I want to hate you."

"Now that I can believe."

She watched Ry return to his horse for a rag to clean his boots. Her eyes drifted from his cream colt to her spotted mare before turning to the empty path they'd travel. The dusty brown of the plains rolled with sweeping hills for miles before and after their stopping point. They'd soon turn to the marshlands of the Glades if they continued to travel south. There were no signs of another horse behind them or in front. Kira furrowed her brow looking back to Ry.

"Where's Emma?"

"She went back to the Glades a few days ago. Something about the sugarcane not harvesting itself and saying you fell down the stairs on purpose. How does one fall down the stairs when sober?"

"Days? How long was I out?" She ignored his jab. Try as hard as she could, Kira still couldn't remember how she hurt herself.

"Little over a week. Which, by the way, you owe me plenty of copper for the inn and buying that litter over there. When we're married you'll be doing lots and lots of dishes to repay me. Among other things." His eyebrows bobbed in a dance.

She rolled her eyes and extended her good hand to him. A ball of fire flickered in her palm, casting an orange glow over her olive skin. The corners of her mouth twisted in a tight smile. Her eyes darted from the flame to his leather pants. Ry's hands slowly drifted to cover his crotch and he crossed his legs.