The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 4

Nyle ran his fingers over the saddle straps, assuring their security. Content with their fastening, he straightened, gently patting the chestnut mare's neck soothingly.

The stables, a long, narrow shelter located behind the supply shack, was a place Nyle enjoyed. Here, he felt welcomed. His equine companions never shamed him for his heritage, whereas the Nemaru constantly expected him to turn on them and join Agnir. He hated the judgement that followed him everywhere. The world saw the Serpentine through a haze of red, and he was no exception. No matter that he'd proven his loyalty hundreds of times in the ten years he'd been at the camp; they still didn't trust him, and they never would.

The door swept open, letting in a little of the waning light from the outdoors. Air from the door stirred up the smell of horse manure and dry grass, and it invaded Nyle's senses like a cloud.

Lillian stalked in, a scowl on her face. When her gaze landed on him, her expression lost its hostile counterpart, and she smiled.

"Everything ready?" Nyle asked, gripping the reins. The mare snorted as he led her up to Lillian.

"Yes," she replied, swinging a small burlap sack over the saddle. "The cook was reluctant, but I bribed him with a little gold."

Nyle raised an eyebrow, cracking a grin. He let his eyes roam over her, from the worn boots she always wore to her fresh tunic. His gaze finally fastened on her face, and he smiled a little when she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he lied.

It wasn't nothing. She was beautiful. He loved everything about her, from the wavy tresses she wore pulled back into a braid to her fiery green eyes and the light freckles that dusted her nose almost unnoticeably. And he loved her determination. Here she was, defying her own father, the commander of the king's army, all to save the life of a friend. She was amazing.

"You're staring at me," Lillian stated with a nervous laugh.

Nyle snapped out of his reverie, shooting her a sheepish grin. "Sorry," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking at the ground. "You should probably get going. Sam's not getting any better."

Lillian bit her lip, nodding. "Nyle—" she began. Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook where his throat met his shoulder. He froze for a moment, unused to such affection, before overcoming his shock and returning the embrace. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. "Thank you." Her words were muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but Nyle could hear in her tone the sincerity with which she spoke.

She pulled away, straightening her tunic. Shooting him a half-smile over her shoulder, she swung into the saddle with an ease Nyle desperately envied. Even after so long, he still felt gangly and awkward mounting a steed.

"Are you sure you can handle my father?" she asked.

He handed her the reins, shrugging. The horse fidgeted, stamping a hoof against the earthen floor. Lillian patted the animal fondly, awaiting his answer with an expectant expression.

"I guess we'll find out," Nyle replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. He honestly didn't know what he would do about Nerelion. There would undoubtedly be dire consequences for his brash actions. The commander wouldn't tolerate such things in his camp, especially when they involved his daughter.

"Good luck," Lillian offered. "And tread carefully. He's not been himself lately."

"I know," Nyle said. "I'll try to avoid him."