The relationship between Arion and I was unclear, to say the least.

He scolded me as much as he complimented me, frustrated me as often as he made me smile. We rarely kissed, and our touches mostly consisted of him grabbing me by the arm to lead me somewhere or to stop me from falling down the stone steps in my slippery slippers that clenched my cold-numb feet.

With him being my lead Shadow Knight, our relationship was not public but neither did we hide it. Words went unsaid between us, and our future was never confirmed, though I could see myself with no one else.

He has never told me he loved me, nor I him, yet I was sure of both statements. He never brought me flowers or asked me to dance (and quite frankly, I'd be worried about his mental state if he did). And though I tended his wounds after training instead of allowing him to see a healer, it was not the sweet, loving affair of me kissing his wounds as some of the knights surely believed, but consisted instead of me telling him to stop acting like an infant and hold still until he eventually left with an irritated huff.

Though I missed him when he was gone, I did not rely on him for company, nor for comfort. Though he worried for me, those worries were not gifted with loving words but glares and orders. We were not, as a rule, very kind to each other at all.

But when I saw him pacing in the small wood near the base of the mountain, a half an arm away from the East Border, I ran to him, and when he saw me coming he opened his arms and allowed me to crash into him painfully before wrapping those strong, sure arms tightly around me. 

One of those arms went around my waist in a grip so tight it neatly hurt, the other wrapped around my back so that his hand was against the back of my head, fingers weaved through my hair as he forced my cheek against his shoulder. His lips pressed against the crook of my neck through my mess of hair, his breath hot. He only pulled away enough to whisper. "I should have been there with you."

I gripped him tighter, as if competing with his own grip. "It wouldn't have changed a thing."

"I should have been at your side."

It was a rare, tender moment, one where neither of us were irritated with the other. No smirks, no challenging looks, no eye rolling or glares or pursed lips. He did not call me stupid, and I did not hiss his name as if it were an insult.

I stood there in his grip - the two of us touching longer than we ever had before outside the confines of my bedchambers - until I was sure that I could stand again without it. Only then did I face the others.

I had to admit that I was not at all surprised by those accompanying Arion. I had suspected Ridiq to come, though he was supposed to stay in Qa'elah - his startling blue eyes were narrowed at me as if daring me to order him away. Cronin, his son, was a good enough swordsman to nearly best Arion and so he, too, was not a surprise. Baion was one Roriq and Jovian both knew I would need on my travels, but I found his attire amusing - rich silks and fine, starched cottons. He would regret that when the air turned colder. I hoped he had a cloak in his pack, at least.

Jazera was a surprise though, and an unwelcome one; the last time we had spoken, I was kicking her out of the castle for being publicly rude to me - something I wouldn't dare tolerate so early in my reign. She stood against a tree with a grimace on her face as she watched Arion and I, clearly not approving our embrace.

I looked around more. "Aitch?" I asked hopefully.

Arion shook his head. "He's on a job in the west. I sent word for him to join us on our return if he was able."

I nodded, sad that the mountain of a man wasn't joining us - it would have brought a bit of light to our entourage.

"Your hair is different, but it suits you well, Your Majesty." Said Baion, stepping forward with a small, respectful bow. "Though I must admit, already, I miss the sight of your marks."

I tugged at my now-blond curls which were, of course, an unruly mess. My hands were covered by my old leather gloves, but I still had to put the cream over the ones creeping up my neck and those that crawled up my arm. To me, I felt more like myself, despite the change in hair colour, but I supposed to Baion - whom has never seen me without a gown - I was entirely different.

"Mir." I said. "Until we reach the Bridge of Vines, I am Mir only. I am not queen."

"You're not queen anyway." Said Jaz. "Considering you just left your kingdom in Marqis' hands once again."

As Baion gasped at hearing such disrespect, and as Roriq glared at her for the same reason, Arion sighed at the girl he had grown to call his sister. "You couldn't wait a single day before you started this, Jaz?"

She flipped her impossibly-perfect blond hair out of the way as she rolled her eyes. "I wasn't being insulting. I was speaking the truth. And here's another one," she pointed at me, "those curls of yours are too well known,  no matter the colour. Either cut your hair or hide it."

"She's not cutting her hair." Arion said simply.

But I was already shaking my head. "No, she's right," as much as I hated to admit it. I was already reaching for my sword to slice it all off, but Arion gripped my arm, preventing me.

"Tie it up." He said.

"But it's easier to just-"

"Mir, would you just not argue for once?"

I raised and eyebrow at him, then realized he actually liked my hair. That thought made me smile and accept the leather cord from his wrist to tie my hair back instead. I would keep it.

Jaz grimaced at us both. "Right." She said blandly, shook herself, sighed, and continued. "So what's the plan? Marqis already has dragons at the border gates, so I suppose we'll just walk on up and tell them to move? Or are we going to just kill them all and be done with it?"

It was my turn to sigh - she seemed to be in a worse mood than usual. I didn't bother arguing with her or commenting on her attitude. Jaz was older than I was, but she had a tendency to act like a four-year-old little girl when she was in this kind of mood. I didn't feel like dealing with that at all for the moment.

But I did answer her.

"There's a way through the border without going through the gate. Jovian and I used to get in and out that way. It's a bit of a nuisance, but it should be dragon free."

"How do you through to get through the gate through?" Cronin asked - as was his way. He'd suffered from a terrible plague about ten years earlier, and though he was lucky enough to claim himself one of the few survivors, he had lost his ability to form sentences very well. Once, his way of speaking had confused me, but now, I understood him as if I had become fluent in another language.

"Huh?" Jaz asked rudely before I could answer him. "What language you speaky you?"

"Jazera!" Arion snappedm while poor Cronin blushed a deep shade of red.

"Ridiq, no." I said simple when he, too, turned a shade of red, nearly identical to his son, except his flush was from anger at Jazera for insulting his son rather than of embarrassment. 

He glanced at me and clenched his jaw shut to prevent himself from lashing out, my order being the only thing that would stop him from defending his son. Normally, I would never stop such a thing - especially if it meant Jazera on the receiving end of a scolding - but in the short time that Ridiq and Jazera has spent around each other in the past, they fought loudly and their arguments could go on for hours. 

Quite simply, we didn't have the time.

"It's a bit of a climb," I motioned to the east, "between two mountain ridges, about two arms south of the gate." I answered Cronin. He nodded in reply, not speaking again as I knew he wouldn't - he would not speak again for a fortnight at least, now.

I had to remind myself that Jazera was an excellent fighter, a loyal protector, and had saved our lives with her excellent bowman-ship more times than I could count. I had to remind myself of this so that I would not punch her in the face.

Again.

Although, it was quite satisfying the last time...

As if knowing where my thoughts had gone, Arion gripped my arm and began directing me eastward. 

"Lead the way." He told me, walking at my side.

A/N: A wee bit of a filler chapter, mostly here for you Arion/Meira fans (and for me, I am one of those fans XD). In the next, which will be posted later this evening, they get to leave Nahdiera for the first time!

Also, I'm about to begin posting a short novel from Marqis' POV. It begins at the same time as Stone Sacrifice, and is going to end at the same time as well! You'll get to see inside the mind of King Marqis Beoworth himself. How did he get the Black Stone? How did he escape in the end? Is he really as evil as Meira believes him to be? Read and find out!

But as a warning, that book is not my priority, I'm just typing it out as it goes into my head. This book is my priority. Book 1.5 of the Chronicles of Grey series (titled, simply "Marqis") is just something for me to pass the time in between (read the authors note for details and such). 

Anyway, it's just a little project, up to you guys. In the meantime, enjoy Blood Traveler!