An Affinity For Fire

43. Heleonne

Leo pulled the thick slab of stake pie, wrapped carefully in cloth, from his saddle bag.

He had decided to avoid spending lunch in the Great Hall with the other nobles, since his mother and father would undoubtably drag him into another forced convesration with Marram. Admittedly, the time he'd spent alone with her the previous night had been unexpectdly pleasant. She was a better skater than he'd anticipated, and teaching each other new tricks had been fun.

Spending breakfast with her, however, had not.

Of course, that wasn't her fault. His parents and her father, all ecstatic with the news of their agreement to marry, had decided they should all eat breakfast together to discuss wedding plans. The three parents had debated about location, time, dresses, flowers, guests, meals, all the while subtly throwing in reminders of the talents of their respective prodigies. Prince Petra, for instance, suggested that Marram could write sonnets to take the place of vows, while Leo's father had proposed a celebratory jousting tournament after the wedding, which Leo would no doubt be expected to compete in.

The conversation had been painful from the first word to the last. Leo had done his best to play along as the enthusiastic groom, but while he was no longer distraught about the prospect of marriage, he was much closer to complacent than eager. Marram, probably feeling the same way, had barely spoken, occasionally glancing at him with an apologetic smile or a knowing eye-roll when one of their parents' unsubtle praises was particularly agonising.

He had survived one suffocating discussion filled with vicarious wedding planning. He was not going to sit through a second just hours later.

Instead, he chewed on mouthfuls of steak pie atop Comet, at a cliff edge ten miles from the castle, savouring every mouthful of crumbling, buttery pastry and every moment of blissful quiet. The sky was bizarrely clear for a winter's day, with only a few thin whisps of cloud scattered across the vast expanse of dazzling blue, and no fog to shroud the deep, gaping valley below. The unobscured sun glistened against every house window, every frozen pond and lake, every snow-clad peak on the Northern horizon.

Dormis was a cold and cruel place, harbouring colder and crueller people, but it wasn't without its moments of beauty.

Once he'd finished picking at the remaining crumbs of pie, he strapped his saddle bag closed and whirled Comet away from the cliff, pushing him into a gallop back to the castle.

By the time he made it back, it was almost dark. Night fell early in Dormisian winters. He reared Comet up just outside the stables, dismounting and leading him inside by the reins. The royal stables were large enough to house over two-hundred horses and half-breeds, with complex branching corridors leading to stalls reserved for different noble families. When he arrived at the Monfort branch, he was surprised to find someone standing outside Thunder's stall.

"You know you don't have to feed her anymore, right?" Leo said. "She's home. The stable servants are already taking care of her."

Tarragon turned to face him. "I know. Just checking on her, I guess. We've been through a lot with her. It's hard not to get attached."

"Well, you'll see her again soon enough," Leo said, leading Comet into his own stall beside where Weyra lay curled up in the straw. The wolf had taken to sleeping beside the half-breeds, probably because when she stuck around, she got fed. "My father will be riding her back to Ortus in a few months."

Tarragon furrowed his brow.

"I'll be there, too," Leo explained. "Marram and I confirmed our engagement last night."

"Ah," Tarragon said. "Well. That's... good, I guess. I don't really know whether to offer you congratulations or condolences."

Leo gave a dismissive shrug. "It was always going to happen. If not with her, then probably with someone worse. And I got to spend some time with her yesterday. She genuinely seems nice. Honestly, it this point, I'm more upset that I'm about to be officially related to you."

Tarragon rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I am no more happy about that than you are," he said with a smirk.

Leo huffed a small laugh, smiling back.

After a silence that lasted a little longer than was comfortable, Leo said "this is getting dangerously close to being a sentimental moment, isn't it?"

"Oh, good, you picked up on that, too," Tarragon said with a grimace. He shuffled back a few steps. "Right, well I'm going to go before this gets soppy. Congratulations, though." He began to leave, but stopped halfway down the corridor, turning round. "Look... this whole thing with Merith. We don't need the owl. We got this far, we're going to find a way to finish what we started."

Leo nodded, giving him a grateful smile, before he turned and continued to leave.

Once he was gone, Leo went back to securing Comet in his stall. As he hauled off the half-breed's saddle and riding blanket, Weyra perked up her ears, standing up and sniffing at the stall door. Leo thought nothing of it until she started whining.

"Hey, come on, girl," he said, crouching behind her and scratching her behind the ear. "Everything's fine."

Weyra didn't seem to notice him. Her yellow eyes, wide and alert, were fixed on the door, or presumably something on the other side of it. Leo swung the door open a foot, peering out.

"See? nothing."

But Weyra was still whining. Leo stood up, noticing a smell that seemed out of place in a stables. At first, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but as the sour odour became stronger, he realised it was lamp oil.

Then he heard the footsteps.

Weyra backed into the corner of the of stall as a scrawny blond boy of around fifteen, a boy Leo recognised as one of the stable boys, stepped into the entrance of the stall, carrying a large barrel. He flinched when he spotted Leo. "What are you doing in 'ere?" the small boy demanded. "Everyone's s'posed to be getting ready for the evening. No-one was meant to be in 'ere."

Leo shook his head, bemused. "What in all ruddy Hells are you talking about? And what's with the barrel of oil?"

The boy didn't answer, eyeing Weyra. Comet, probably put off by the foul smell and tempted by the open door, pushed past him and made a run for it. The boy stumbled, dropping the barrel, which spewed the remaining oil across the floor.

Leo rolled his eyes. "Now you've startled my half-breed." He took a step towards the door, but stopped short when the boy pulled out a short knife, extending it towards him in a shaking hand.

Leo stepped back again, his own hands raised. "Alright, hold on. What are you doing?"

The boy glared at Weyra. "You weren't s'posed to be 'ere, just the wolf." He took a few slow steps backwards, reaching into his pocket. "I thought no-one would be 'ere. And you're not even one of 'em. I'm- I'm sorry. I 'ave to."

"Have to do what, what are you-" Leo noticed him drawing the flint and steel a moment to late. He didn't even have time to think as a spark fell to the pool of oil. Flames began to roar through the corridor, and the boy bolted out of sight.

But Leo couldn't get past the burning pool blocking the door. As horses and half-breeds from all over the stables began to snort and screech in panic, he dropped to his knees beside Weyra, fingers lacing through his hair and heart racing as unbridled dread consumed him.

No, no, no, no, no, Fates, no.

There was no getting out, and he knew it.