A Kiss of Fate

Chapter 9

Ayana swayed to the rhythm of her snowy steed as it trotted along the wooded trail, flanked by the two Argentian guards. Zelroth and three of his men rode at the lead, followed by Iezabel. The others brought up the rear in a frivolous and disorderly manner.

The towering trees basked in the bright glow of noon, their skeletal arms grasping at each other. The crunch of dried leaves under the iron shod hooves was often drowned out by the raucous babble of voices that permeated the air. Iezabel’s clenched jaw kept twitching as she threw frequent glares at the noisy rebels. It wouldn’t be long before she snapped.

One of Zelroth’s men, whom Ayana assumed was his lieutenant, noticed the look of disdain on Iezabel’s face and chuckled. “Most of them are new recruits,” he said. “It usually takes at least one battle for them to fall in line.”

Ayana braced herself as Iezabel’s features twisted in outrage. “And your Commander saw it fit to send a pack of unruly misfits to escort Lady Ayana?”

Ayana bit down on her lower lip when she caught his expression. If he ever regretted opening his mouth, it must be now.

Before he made the situation worse, Zelroth intervened. “Pardon us, Madame Iezabel. Our unit was nearest to your location. We had little choice in this matter.”

Iezabel pursed her lips and turned her gaze to the horizon. Ayana had no complaints. Traveling with this lot was undeniably better than having a group of stiff-necks breathing down her back. But she knew enough not to share that particular thought with Iezabel.

Their course took them through many grasslands and woodlands. Ayana hummed to herself as the cold winds of winter caressed her face. Her back still ached, but not more than usual.

Dry ground stretched around her, free of snow. Though glad to be free of its colorless clutches, she was unable to shake the uneasiness of leaving behind familiar territory.

Her chest tightened at the thought of home, of Lucien. She wondered what her husband was up to. If they knew about her, he was in danger. He might get ousted from the Guard for protecting and hiding her. But as long as they remained uncertain of their connection, he might avoid getting deposed.

“He can take care of himself,” Iezabel said, as if reading her mind.

“It is my fault.” Ayana’s voice broke. “All I have ever given him is trouble.”

“You’re hunted without reason. You think that’s your fault?” Iezabel questioned. “Don’t beat yourself up for things you can’t control,” she said sternly. “They can’t accuse him as long as you don’t fall into their hands.”

Ayana stared at the snowy mane of her horse with a downcast expression. There was truth in her words. Lucien would not want her to worry about him. He had done his part, and now it was her turn. After all, she had promised Lucien to protect their child. “I suppose you are right,” she murmured.

It was nearly dusk when the grasslands finally gave way to the rugged woodlands of Lycanth. Unlike northern forests, here the trees grew far apart on rough, uneven land. The wind blew back toward east, weaving through the stunted yews. A strange haunted aura permeated the air, an invisible force of nature resisting intruders and invaders alike.

Zelroth’s men mostly kept to themselves, occasionally throwing wary glances in Iezabel’s direction. Ayana saw no harm in socializing with them, but she did not want to irritate Iezabel. Even after almost a week, she eyed them with suspicion and contempt.

“Why do you give them a cold shoulder?” Ayana asked. “They have not been unkind to us.”

“And you already trust them,” she said, her eyes narrowed in exasperation. “You are in no condition to defend yourself, my lady, so please stay on your guard. Not everyone is as they appear.”