Twelve Hells, Caval had thought he had been keeping all sorts of information secure. And yet someone had cracked the code - on the notes he'd been keeping on her at least. What had he been doing? Studying her like some sort of caged animal? Despite this, Blayre felt almost... calm. As though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she could now breathe freely. She hoped. The grim look that Rory had as he sat before her was not exactly heartening.
"So, if he doesn't trust him. What then?" Blayre asked.
"It seems to me," Rory said, standing from his chair and pacing again, like a great lion, "That he will throw at you, whichever young wizard has his favor." His eyes were like stormclouds now - billowing and gray and threatening to unleash a tempest upon the world.
"And how do you feel about that?" Blayre asked neutrally, pretending that she wasn't gutted every time she thought about someone forcing her into something - especially something as archaic as an arranged marriage.
Rory's eyes flickered then, like lightning flashing, and his voice was like thunder as he said, "You know damn well how I feel about that, Blayre." He clenched and unclenched his fists, and then added quietly, "You were the one who left, not I."
Blayre's heart squeezed and she turned her head away, but his fingers grasped her chin and he forced her to look into his storm-ridden gaze. "Why?" He asked softly.
"I told you," Blayre said uncomfortably, "Your life is one of constant attention. One of masks and pretenses. That isn't the kind of life I want." She shook her head. "Maybe in a different world..." She swallowed and glanced away.
He looked as if he was about to say something that she didn't want to hear, when a knock sounded at the door and it opened without further preamble to reveal her father. Lord Darach strode in and closed the door behind him.
"I'm sorry to interrupt. Blayre, darling, I'm very glad to see you awake." With that brief hello, he turned to Rory "My informants spotted the artifact-thief."
Blayre raised an eyebrow, "The what? Who?"
"The mage who stole the dragon egg." Rory explained briefly before turning back to her father.
Annoyed that they were for the most part ignoring her, she slowly slid from the bed and went to the old wooden wardrobe where she pulled out a drawer to find a pair of old shoes that she had once worn. Luckily her feet had not grown since she'd last spent enough time here to have left behind clothing to wear. Blayre stalled, pretending to rummage through the drawer, waiting for her father to give up the one piece of information she needed to find Bartley.
And when he did, she put on her old pair of boots, announced that she was heading down to the kitchen for a bite to eat since apparently no one had thought to feed her. Once in the kitchen she gathered enough rations from the room to last her a day or two, and then stalked out into the darkness of the night.
The stableyard was quiet, except for the occasional stomp of a horse's hoof, or the low huffing sound. A breeze lifted the loose strands of her hair, as she moved, wraith-like, into the stable, despite sore muscles, and joints stiff from lack of use.
Blayre knew that Dove was here, along with the saddlebags that had been left behind at the mountain checkpoint. When had that been? She had no perception of how many days had passed since then. She could feel the charm that Caval had placed in her packs to keep everything dry by repelling the water, and that charm led her through the tranquil horsebarn, straight to Dove's stall.
Blayre soothed the mare with clucking noises, as she retrieved Dove's tack and prepped her for a ride. Quiet footsteps broke the silence, and stopped in front of the stall door. Blayre only froze momentarily, then continued with her ministrations as Sheila cleared her throat.
"And where might you be goin' at this hour, young lady?" The horsemistress demanded.
"Out. I need some fresh air after being cooped up for Moon and Sun knows how long."
She saw the glint in the older woman's eye as she eyed Blayre's packs dubiously, "Seems you're a bit hungry too. Blayre," The woman paused as if gathering her thoughts, "I know I should tell ya to stay back and stay safe. But I know ye won't listen to me anyhow. Ye never did." She reached out to pinch Blayre's cheek affectionately. "Just be very very careful. And don't push yerself too hard."
"I won't, Sheila." Said Blayre. "But if I don't go, I'm afraid the safety that we all enjoy will be in jeopardy."
The night air was humid, but cool in the mountain climate. As Blayre patted Dove's neck, she wondered if bringing the mare had been a good idea. She could be quieter and hide more easily without a horse. But she also didn't have the luxury of time, and the mountain-bred mare was surefooted as they made their way down the mountain, skirting around town. By now, they had to know she had left Blumore. She hoped whomever was coming after her - Rory surely, and probably her father and Ainslee and Fletcher - would assume she was taking the clearest, most direct path down. Her father and Seaver might know better. But regardless. She was out and away from Blumore, and even if they caught up with her, they would not deter her from her path.
She did have the advantage of being well rested, since she had apparently been asleep for an indeterminate amount of time. But she realized with some amount of disdain, that she smelled gods-awful. Clearly someone had freshened her up while she had been rendered unconscious, but she felt as though she could use a good soaking. But a bath could wait.
The sun was rising over the other side of the mountain when she heard movement behind her. Blayre remained calm - panicking would do nothing, and quite frankly, it would either be someone she didn't know, emerging from the forest behind her, or someone she knew. And either way, her path forward would not change.
She was surprised when it was just Ainslee and Fletcher who emerged from the treeline, fully expecting an entourage that included Rory, her father, Seaver, perhaps a few Blumore guards...
"Found you." Fletcher smirked, urging his horse over to her and flicking her cheek playfully. Ainslee remained back, stubbornly silent.
"Yes I'm sure it was very difficult to do so. Excellent work." Blayre said drily, "Now, I hope you won't be impeding my progress."
"They want you back at Blumore." Ainslee's voice was a complete monotonous contrast to her usual chipper self. She was a woman who flung her emotions out like a child throwing seed to the birds - with reckless and carefree abandon.
"And who are 'they', exactly?" Even though she was already pretty certain of the answer.
"Your father and Duke Rorrick," Fletcher finished quickly before Ainslee could say any more. He glanced nervously between the two women. "Blayre, you really gave us a scare when you disappeared, like that."
"Well, the next time I disappear," Blayre shot over her shoulder, as she urged Dove forward, "I'll be sure not to do it like that. I'll find some other means of being nearly kidnapped."
Her two friends said nothing as she moved forward, but they followed behind her. Blayre turned again, "I thought this was the part where you drag me back to Blumore?"
"We aren't here to tell you what to do, Blayre," Fletcher said, more serious than she had ever heard them in all their time together as friends and counterparts. "But I do wish that you would trust us a little bit more."
Blayre turned back around, scowling. Her first instinct was to reply with a scathing remark, but she held her tongue. "I appreciate you not dragging me back to Blumore, kicking and screaming, and I will try to be better about sharing things with you. There were just some things in my life that I wasn't ready to share," she said.
****
As the trio made progress into the heart of Emares, Blayre could feel an oncoming storm. But it felt off, and unnatural somehow. The steeper mountain terrain had merged into green rolling hills of farmland, laden with the summer harvest. The air was heavy and humid and the people she could see working the fields seemed to be in no hurry. Blayre wiped the sweat from her brow, wishing she had a hat to block out the glare of the sun.
Strange, she thought, glancing skyward, There are no clouds. So why does it feel like a storm coming? She glanced toward Fletcher and Ainslee but neither seemed to notice anything about the weather other than that it was hot as all hells.
"We should probably get the horses over to the river to cool down," Ainslee suggested.
Blayre glanced down at Dove who was certainly thoroughly damp with sweat. She didn't want to waste time, but she also knew that she needed to keep her horse healthy and well rested if she wanted to make good time.
They waded the horses into the river and allowed them to drink moderately. Rather than soothe her, the river water that splashed up against Blayre's legs made her feel uneasy, its contact releasing a static charge that traveled from her legs up to her head. She felt dizzy, and Dove began to back up uneasily, feeding off her mistress's distress.
"There's something wrong," Blayre said, urging the gray mare out of the shallow water.
"What is it?" Asked Fletcher. A slight breeze ruffled the deer-brown curls of his hair.
"The river... someone's using it."
"Using it?" Asked Ainslee, glancing around, eyes wide.
"It's part of... my sense." Blayre closed her eyes against the current of power that was assaulting her senses. "I can feel the magic in here. I shouldn't be feeling this in the river.
"And those mountainers," Blayre continued, "They have nature-magic."
They were the ones calling a storm. And if it was pulling from the River Cel, it was going to wreak havoc on Emares.
A/N: I'm so sorry that that chapter took SO LONG. I have no idea why my writing has been so staggered all of a sudden. Thank you for your patience! I also didn't even read through this chapter, because I was so ready to be done with it, so if you notice any typos or grammatical errors of any kind, be sure to point them out!