Of Flowers and Flames | ONC#2020 ((ON HOLD))

Chapter Two

The horse knew its way back to Morakar without guidance, which allowed Fiama time to focus on exactly what had happened and how she was going to come back from it. She balanced in the saddle as she undid her jacket and reached beneath her shirt to loosen her bindings, all while contemplating the disaster that was about to ensue upon Ziedas' arrival.

And it had nothing to do with her botched rescue attempt of the Emissary from Ithoya.

The cabin in the distance brought her attention back to the road, and Fiama smiled at the familiar sight. Jeraf had been her best friend and closest companion ever since she was a child, and his position as the kingdom's head stablehand made hiding her favorite horse at his cabin and not within the castle's own stables for her nighttime escapades all the more convenient.

Like clockwork, his front door opened as soon as she crested the hilltop as if he was watching and waiting for her return the moment she said her goodbyes. His silhouette almost blocked out the light from within and after years of hard work and manual labor he carried himself much older than a young man of twenty years.

No words were exchanged as she approached, no well-wishes or greetings as she dismounted and handed him her horse's reins, no inquiries about her evening as he took the horse away to the stable at the side of the cabin while she made her way inside.

The cabin was a small yet comfortable structure with its main room partitioned off into a cooking area, a table and chairs for dining, and the main sitting area that surrounded an already-ignited fireplace. Its only bedroom was down a small hallway, with a bathing room located across from it.

Fiama wasted no time trudging her way through the cabin, moving towards the bedroom where a stash of her own wardrobe awaited her. She felt it foolish, keeping her clothing and toiletries in Jeraf's private sleeping quarters, but he insisted she do so if she was going to continue to use his home as her safe house.

"No one will ask questions if you're coming and going in your normal attire, and looking no worse than you did when you left," he explained to her after her first attempt at vigilantism left her shirt torn from a close encounter with a blade and her face dusty from a scuffle in the dirt. She had washed and borrowed one of his older shirts, but considered the advice and brought a satchel with her own garments the next evening she decided to set out again.

She gathered up a clean shirt of her own and soft leggings to wear underneath before disappearing into the bathing room. The moment she saw the bathtub it was as though her muscles all at once decided to give out and she could barely move to turn on the tap. It had been months since she began this endeavor, and she insisted to Jeraf, despite his protests about her well-being, that she'd eventually get used to the stress on her body— the late nights, the overexertion, the flirtations with death...

Sitting on the porcelain edge of the tub as she waited for the bath to fill, she closed her eyes only for a moment. Her kingdom needed her, she reminded herself against the pounding in her skull. No one else was going to protect their roads or their people, so it was up to her to make sure their corruption was seen for what it truly was.

Selfishness. Entitlement. Greed.

How many lives had she saved night after night? It was a thankless task, but one she welcomed. Rarely did she interact with her rescuees, the victims often too scared to linger when their lives had already been saved and not willing to test their luck twice. Never was there gratitude, and so long as her people survived, that was all that mattered.

At least, that was all that had mattered.

Until that night...

Her eyes flung open and she let out a curse as the feeling of bathwater caressed her thigh and, in a panic, she shut off the flow before the tub overflowed.