Lux [h.s]

thirty-one

Cora had come to the realisation that horse riding wasn't nearly as enjoyable as it seemed. She was tired and her bones were hurting, and she was starting to regret choosing not to stay inside that day. She'd been sure she would go mad if she confined herself in that small space for hours again, but now even that seemed preferable to the past four hours she'd spent riding Saiph.

Harry was somewhere in front of her, she could see the blue of his coat time and time again as he zigzagged between the row of wagons to talk to someone or get a good look of the road ahead. Moving was always dangerous when it came to the Fair—hunters and guards were on the loose, and it wouldn't have taken them long to figure out who they were if they'd caught them by surprise. Magic was in the air, and while she would've usually found it intriguing, now it worried her a bit.

A white-cloaked figure riding a white horse was following Harry like a shadow, and Cora didn't need them to pull down their hood to know it was Aster. Harry exchanged some words with him before riding ahead. Aster's hood fell, and he ran a finger through his light blonde hair. His horse slowed.

Cora kept riding at the same pace to keep up with the others, and soon she was right behind him. She bit the inside of her cheek, considering her possibilities. She could keep to his pace and stay behind him, and soon they would be together at the end of the line. Or she could ride past him quickly and go with the others. After a moment's deliberation, the second option seemed the best one.

Saiph trotted past Aster. Cora kept her gaze straight ahead, pretending not to have noticed him.

"Hey, blondie."

Cora turned her head. Aster was next to her, riding at her pace. He'd been waiting for her to try surpassing him. "You're calling me blondie?"

Aster laughed. His drop earrings dangled on either side of his throat. The irony clearly wasn't lost on him either. "Oh come on now, my hair is nearly silver."

"You're that old?"

"That pretend aunt of yours didn't teach you any manners, did she?" He shrugged. "Besides, I'm not old. I'm in my twenties, if you must know."

"I don't believe you."

"Okay, I'm closer to my thirties."

"I still don't believe you."

"Surprisingly enough, I'm not eaten away by the knowledge of that." The sarcasm in Aster's voice was heavy, and Cora's hands tightened around the bridles. She had the sudden thought of drenching him in water, then frowned. What was wrong with her?

She looked away into the distance, hoping to spot Harry. Near the front of the line was the short man, Eames, a hat on his head, riding in a way that Cora could only define as grumpy. Oden and a few other children were chatting away in the food cart; their laughs reached her even though she was near the end.

"Little fay runs away when the conversation turns awry." Aster frowned. "No, that doesn't rhyme. When the conversation goes astray? When her mood turns grey? When her sense of humour is lacking, which happens everyday?"

Cora sent him a glare. "Will you stop with the wordplay?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Now, why did you steal my rhyme? I was doing something worthwhile with it."

She hadn't even realised her sentence rhymed with Aster's, and she turned away and crossed her arms. Then she got scared Saiph would act out and got hold of her bridle again. She looked ahead again, and this time around she was able to spot Harry's blue coat next to Eames. She stared at his back, hoping he'd sense her gaze and save her from the situation she'd accidentally thrown herself in.