A Deadly Bite

6.2 || Welcome Home

As if Fiesi needs more reason to regret letting Sarielle accompany him, she shakes him awake at the crack of dawn. Yet he hasn't the time nor the will to protest. Soon after, they're setting off into the rising sun.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Nathan asks as they prepare to leave. He's wrapped in the grey cloak, loose folds hanging off his slim form. It's easier to leave the garment with him rather than display its obvious Cormé-made nature to all of Aorila. "I'm just worried... I don't want to force you into anything."

Fiesi lands a hand on his shoulder. He hopes it doesn't shake too badly. "You're not the one forcing," he says, dropping his voice. "I'd rather do it for you than any of these mili zoí."

All too quickly, the glint of Nathan's smile vanishes. He drops his gaze. "There will be a way to remove my binds, right? We'll look for it?"

The early morning rays slice across his face, touching his pale skin in bleached yellow. The scar cut across his cheek screams its contrast. It shines as black as his eyes in this dim light. Swallowing the odd bite of unease, Fiesi draws him in, sliding his hand to Nathan's spine. "Of course," he whispers. "Together."

Nathan's eyes dart up to meet his. "Not a lie this time?"

A dark shard of memory slices at the back of Fiesi's mind. He forces himself to chuckle, giving Nathan's back a parting pat before he releases him. "I know better than to lie to you again."

His focus lingers on the iron shackles a moment longer than they should. They reek of Harlow's cursed magic, nearly as dark and tainted as the flames they seal away. The phantom stench of blood fills his nostrils. Shaking his head, he wrenches his gaze away, landing on Dalton as he retracts from his own embrace with Sarielle.

Fiesi can't hold back his snort of laughter. The Cormé captain is smitten in that moment, his giddy smile cracking the usual storms in his eyes. At least he doesn't blush quite as furiously as Nathan. It's a mystery how Sarielle has managed to garner such adoration.

Dalton shoves back the expression with the pinch of his lips as he turns to Fiesi. "I wish you luck."

Empty words. He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Keep Nathan safe."

Lingering only long enough to note Dalton's brisk nod, he spins, holding a hand out to Sarielle. "Care to link arms and skip on our merry crusade?"

She chooses to punch his arm instead. "Let's get this over with."

They walk in tandem. Fiesi throws a couple of glances over his shoulder, locking onto Nathan's face each time, until the camp is swallowed by trees. Forests crowd as far as the eye can see, clawing their way up the sharp mountains to the west and cascading the gentle slopes to the south, albeit in a gnarled tangle twined with the bared claws of branches. Clouds nearly as dark as his grey tunic clog the sky like smoke. Winter is such an ugly season, and not only because he's beginning to lose feeling in his fingers. Perhaps it was a bad idea to leave his cloak behind.

Sarielle tugs at the hem of her own. "You want this?"

Tugging on a grin, he flicks his fingers, summoning a burst of flame to coil around his wrist. With a little focus, a single spark can leap from the rest, compressed heat that soon explodes into a tiny flicker of amber. Its warmth beats over his skin. "I'm good."

She twists her head away, hiding the reflected glint he catches in her eyes. "Show-off."

He opens his mouth to reply, but it's whisked away by his gasp. A familiar sensation cuts through him, sharp as a knife but thin and flimsy as paper, softened with the aura of something vaguely fragrant. It's enticing. Perhaps the knife is more a hook, latched somewhere between his ribs and dragging him forward. He's taken several vacant steps before he realises Sarielle is no longer beside him.