His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 42: A Loved One

The first shimmer of morning light peeks over the horizon, revealing the muddy road that cuts our path through green grassy fields. Our horse, who I've named Dan after the strongest man from my home village, has carried us from Lystra over the last few hours.

My sore muscles strain to keep my frame stiff, resisting the urge to rest against Trevus. If I did, how would he react?

I rack my mind through the events of the night, reliving each moment. When I was talking to him as Raylia on the balcony, he said he once loved me, implying that those feelings were gone. Then he saved my life from the Hunt Unit, risking his own neck in the process. As soon as we had a moment alone, he embraced my shaking frame, holding me tight and resting his nose in the crook of my neck. It was the most relieved I've felt in my entire life, like heavy stones were freed from my shoulders. I kissed him on our way out of the stables, and he kissed back. Is that the same as love?

He cares – that I'm certain of. But none of this changes the fact that I took Mehlia away from him. Just because he didn't want to see my death in the palace, doesn't mean that his heart holds the same love that I do for him. It doesn't mean he wants to be near the girl who took his mother.

I twist around to get a glimpse of him. The julite crown still rests on his head. It's conspicuous, but considering the rest of his gold-threaded black oban, it's not that out of place.

Trevus glances down at me, and I quickly turn my head back to the road, leaning further forward to not bother him.

His left hand circles my middle, and he presses my body against his, with the length of my back on his chest. My heart flutters. He does want to be close.

I finally let my sore, fatigued muscles relax, leaning my whole body into his. He doesn't say a word.

After another hour, Trevus directs Dan right, towards a thick forest. The scent of the wilderness is reminiscent of when we left Antiock, back when Trevus was far from an ally.

Soon we're concealed by the trees. Trevus climbs off the saddle and offers his hand. I maneuver off Dan's tall frame with his help, and the due-covered leaves crunch under my white boots.

Trevus guides me to sit on a rock, then turns away to search through the bag Giddius gifted us. I watch the golden seams of his royal oban move with his shoulders. King Tytius will consider this a betrayal. If he granted Trevus the title of prince, he will just as surely take it away. The Hunt Unit designated to bringing me in will broaden their scope to include the treasonous prince.

Trevus returns with a waterskin and white linen in hand. He saved my life at the cost of being welcome in his own country. He'll live in exile.

I wince as Trevus dabs the cut on the side of my head.

He rests a hand on my shoulder. "It shall be brief."

I nod, and he continues cleaning the sore but short wound.

"You gave up everything," I say.

He takes a seat at my side and begins looping the bandage around my forehead. "A hollow role in a palace of liars is not worth your life."

He's also giving up the only life he's ever known. Am I really that important to him? I study his face, but his stoic expression obscures the feelings behind his words.

He wraps his arm around me, suddenly pulling my body to lean against his. "You need not hang on to so much worry," he says.

It feels so good to be held again, especially after fearing it would be impossible after Nepolis. I want to be with Trevus forever, but it feels so precarious. What happens the next time he misses Mehlia? I can't bear another minute pretending that it didn't happen, hoping that he'll somehow forget while fearing he'll remember. If he's going to leave, I need to know now.