Sure enough, within a few hours, he sighted a decent-sized party making their way toward Kilmire which, if memory served him, was halfway toward the capital of Matherin. Before the start of the forest, the flat expanse of land between Midpath and Kilmire made it easy to pick them out. He’d never traveled so far inland before, but he’d thankfully memorized a map of the land years ago.
Even miles ahead of him, he was positive it was the same group. An instinctual pull in his core told him that although he couldn’t see her, she was there.
Jaren’s initial assumption upon meeting her hadn’t been wrong after all. She may not have been a guard, but she was associated with the royal chinbi srol which only further angered him. He cursed, wanting nothing more than to shake her violently and demand answers. A Magyki mingling with a Matheris was an insult to their entire people.
Quelling his deep-seated need to strangle her, he allowed his horse to slow to a walk. He’d traveled hard so far, and the poor beast wasn’t accustomed to it.
He wasn’t too worried about keeping them directly in sight. Being too close would put him at an unnecessary risk of discovery, and he knew where they were heading.
What grated against Jaren’s nerves the most wasn’t that she worked for the prince but of how in-tune his senses seemed to be to her. Even with the strength of her scent reduced due to distance, he swore he still knew exactly where she was. There was this incessant tug he couldn’t ignore. It was as if his body was a compass and she, north.
It was fucking ridiculous.
Was he that lonely for companionship or was it some bullshit primal instinct that demanded he find and protect her? Granted, it had been several moons now since he’d felt a female’s skin against his own, but that wasn’t unusual due to how often Jaren left Bhasura. None of his previous dunduwaw had ever been serious. They were just casual encounters whenever he felt the need to scratch the itch.
He didn’t crave closeness. Most of the time, he didn’t even know their names, or knew but forgot them soon after. He wasn’t interested in anything more. He’d had his chance for more once, and had lost it.
Then, this zhu shows up out of nowhere, and gods damn him, but he wanted to know her story. He wanted to know why the fuck she was traveling with Sulian’s brat, just as much as he wanted to throttle her for daring to confront and steal from him.
He needed to control his thoughts and stick to the truths he knew. She was a thief and nothing more. If she was in danger, it was her own fault for putting herself there. His only business was getting his dagger.
He was traveling to the capital, the heart of Aleron, and he needed to focus. His father, Dedryn, would skin him alive if he knew the risk he was taking for that dagger, and Jaren couldn’t blame him.
He was endangering more than just himself by foolishly heading so deep into Sulian’s territory, but he couldn’t turn back. Something seemed to be pulling at him, whispering in his ear and urging him on.
Requiring more effort than he liked to admit, he closed off his emotions and fell into the calm he knew so well. The calm that centered him and allowed him to revel in one of his favorite activities...plotting.
His lips pulled up slightly in the corner. If nothing else, this was bound to get interesting.
∞∞∞
Dismounting about a mile outside the edge of the sprawling capital, Jaren offered an apple to his exhausted mare before smacking her hide and sending her off. This close to civilization, someone was bound to find her soon and give her the care she deserved.
A horse would’ve only brought him more attention than necessary. He could stick to the shadows and travel much faster on foot. He pulled his cloak farther over his face as he entered the city itself, concealing his unique features.
Most of the people he passed glanced uneasily at him and naturally moved out of his way, but none seemed unnecessarily suspicious. They were too busy trying to survive their own business to bother nosing into his.
Jaren couldn’t pick out her scent amongst the sea of people around him, but praying to the gods he hadn’t lost his mind, he continued to follow that annoying tug in his chest, letting it guide him deeper into the city. Unsurprisingly, it led him directly to the palace.
Growling, he rubbed a hand over his brow, fighting the impulse to hit something. It would obviously be really fucking stupid to try to follow her there, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make good use of his time.
If he played his cards right, his presence in Matherin could end up proving beneficial in more ways than one. He’d come all the way here, so he might as well make use of his time. Assessing the area for weaknesses would at least bring him one step closer to getting back into his fathers’ good graces.
Jaren took his time stalking the perimeter, scouting where each guard was posted. He was looking for the best way in when her scent suddenly hit him like a solid, stone wall.
Fuck. She was close.
To his right, almost hidden behind the palace, appeared to be some kind of training area, and it was definitely where her scent was coming from. Interest piqued, he edged closer until he could hear the low murmurings of a conversation.
Moving farther around the structure, he knew, as sure as he knew his name, she was directly on the other side. Just as he was about to risk glancing around the corner, he heard a door shut and the conversation died. Heavy steps, definitely not belonging to her, started his way. He quickly retreated, creeping, instead, around the back.
Strangely enough, there were only two windows for such a large building. He peered into the first to see a poor excuse for a living area with a tub and cot tucked into the corners. No sign of any occupants.
Moving to the second window, he could make out a sparse bed chamber. It didn’t contain much besides a few pieces of simple furniture and a wash basin. The only thing of interest was the female form leaning back against the closed door.
She was slightly flushed and wearing a dress rather than the clothes he’d previously seen her in. Plain and ugly as it was, it accentuated her curves in a way that was irritatingly mesmerizing.
Grinding his teeth, he watched with rapt attention as she sprinted across the room, stumbling slightly, before dropping in front of a worn-looking chest. She was alone, distracted, and clearly distressed by something.
Roving his eyes along the frame of the window, Jaren realized almost gleefully that it wasn’t latched. Reaching out, he couldn’t stop his wicked grin when it opened silently.
Time to play, little star.
VERA
Practically slamming the door in her haste, Vera rushed across her room, tripping over her dress, and dropped to her knees before an old chest.
It had seen better days and creaked loudly when she opened it. Reaching in with trembling fingers, she removed the sheathed dagger tucked inside amongst her spare clothing.
Her breathing was labored, and her heart beat rapidly as she sat back on her heels and carefully removed the blade from its covering. It was still just as beautiful as the first time she’d seen it.