'How?' she whispered.

How was it possible that Elyon knew what she had only accepted herself as she flew away from Leoth?

'I suspected it when I first caught your scent in Mor's kitchen,' he explained, glancing down at where her hand rested across her stomach. 'Pure Azurian blood, under Leoth's moon, is a powerful and potent thing.'

'Then Theodan would have scented it too?' She ventured. 'Would have... known?'

'All those of Azura's line have the same scent to those of Leoth's bloodline. The closer that Azurian blood is to you, the stronger the scent. It was only when I heard of the moon's call — for that is unusual — that I suspected. Only one Azura's royal line beneath a plenary moon could expect such a reaction to it. 'Twas then I guessed that you carried the Prince's child.'

'And Theodan?'

The Leoth shrugged. 'Perhaps he knows. Perhaps not. He was oft blinded to any and all reason when it came to you, Fara of Calate.'

The blush hit her cheeks and she looked down, away from his weighty gaze. Elyon turned from her and strolled down a small hillock which led away from the stream and into the thick of the wood. 'Do not roam far,' he warned without looking back.

Packed into the saddle of the Varveh was a thick blanket made of rough mottled fabric. She unfastened it from its hold and moved to find a level patch of ground on which to lay it. Next, she retrieved the skinned flasks of wine and water and sat them upon the blanket.

She guessed that whatever Elyon had gone off to hunt would likely require cooking and so keeping in mind his instruction, she began to search around the immediate area for anything with which he may be able to start a fire.

She stopped now and then to examine the flowers and plants, the leaves of the trees, hoping it would offer clues to where in Calate they may be. The forests of the southern regions were closer in character to those found in Azura. Dry, vibrant, fragrant places filled with sweet scents and lightly spiced air. Closer to home in Prissia, the forests were damp, green and lush; more closely resembling Leoth's verdant woodlands. By the thick vegetation around her, she guessed that they had landed in the Virheim region to the north-west of Prissia. On one side the great Virheim mountains led to the icy waters of the Infernal Kral Sea which stretched around the world to meet Zybar's southern coast. Many ships had been lost exploring what lay in those tideless black depths. Southeast lay Prissia and all of her townships and villages. Southeast awaited Valdr.

The homesteads of Virheim were sparse; small farms dotted into and around the foot of the mountains rearing sheep, pigs and cows to be sold to the larger towns in the south. What confused her theory of geography though was the apparent lack of soldiers. Surely Valdr would have sent men to patrol those borders closest to Leoth? Most vulnerable to attack? Especially after his own attack on Leoth's camp at Azura? He had declared war on the most powerful realm of Ethis and did not fear rebuke? Had he truly no fear left? Had he finally lost his mind to insanity?

The only thing which frightens me is losing you, Fara. If I had to exist here in this mortal realm without you, I too would be lost.

How long had he mourned her, she wondered? There would have been no great ceremonies held to mourn her passing, for that was not Calate's way. Sacraments would be spoken quietly in the homes of her people, rites performed over her body in the Temple of Kandin — over the broken burned body of a nameless Azurian girl. Then before the Altar of Naharina, her body would be given to the flames and her ashes scattered upon the eastern winds.

Had he taken Dura of Zybar to wife yet? She felt dread worm its way into her heart for the Zybarian princess. Dura of Zybar who'd had Galyn taken from her, Dura who had done nothing to deserve what would happen to her now. Perhaps she could yet save Dura of Zybar from the worst of Valdr? Or at least help her endure it. So many to save.

She herself might suffer but it seemed a small price to pay for such a victory as peace across Ethis once more. She did not like to dwell on what might happen if Valdr would not listen to reason, but if he would not, then she would do as Theodan commanded her and prepare her people for war. Then he would find her amidst the chaos and spirit her and her child far away from it, just as he promised he would do.

How he would escape the wrath of his council she did not know, but she clung to his own words as reassurance that he would find a way.

Will you always doubt my word, my love?

oOo

Elyon had roasted one half of a hare—pierced straight through the heart with his dagger—over the fire for her. While she'd nibbled and swallowed hungrily at it he'd turned his nose up at what he'd called 'flerish nyand'. Blackened bone, he translated when she'd asked.

He tore the uncooked flesh from his own half with his teeth and nails, warm blood dripping red and viscous from his lips as he chewed. She'd always believed the Leothine to consume human flesh in quite the same manner, but now she knew that for what it was —a fanciful tale told to frighten and instil prejudice in children.

Despite his claim, her hare was not at all blackened bone. It was succulent and delicious, and after she'd thrown the bones into the flames so as not to attract any wildlife that may scent it, she settled back into the blanket, warm, satisfied and sleepy.

The fire crackled softly in the gloomy wood as Elyon sat across from her sharpening his hunting dagger, the black blade of which appeared amber in the firelight.

'I would like to learn some Leothin,' she said, her voice languid and relaxed. Elyon did not stop sharpening his blade but lifted his eyes to hers and smiled.

'What would you like me to teach you?' He asked. 'More declarations of a soul's plight? Or something else?'

She offered him a small smile in return. 'Perhaps something a little less taxing? "Hello, Goodbye, Thank you, Yes, No?'

He frowned across the flames at her. 'They really do not teach you the basics as children?'

She shook her head. 'In Calate, it is forbidden for women to learn Leoth. Men of high Station are permitted a little teaching —princes, lords, generals, scholars — but for women,' she shook her head again. 'It was considered sinful.'

He rolled his eyes. 'So their only fear is that we might steal their women from them,' he scoffed, 'stupid human males...'

She watched as he moved to polish his blade on his thigh before sliding it into his belt. He placed the sharpening rock into a pocket of his saddlebag before moving to settle onto his back, his saddle working as a pillow of sorts.

'Hello and Goodbye are the same,' he told her. 'Xir.' He said it twice. The second time extending the word to show its shape and how it was formed on the tongue. It was pronounced 'Zee-yr.' She repeated it back to him with precision and he nodded. 'Thank you is like... a prayer,' he said. 'A word of grace and gratitude - Nyore Rhaen.' She thought she half-recognised the first word, and the second sounded like 'rain' except it was stretched across two-syllables. When she spoke this back to him he looked impressed. 'Gods, your pronunciation has improved tenfold.'

'Nyore rhaen,' she replied and he smiled approvingly.

'Yes and no, is merely "Ik" and "Ze" - yes and no.'

She mouthed the words quietly a few times. Then began at the beginning and repeated all of them in turn, each preceded by their common meaning. Elyon's eyebrows lifted and he nodded a few times like a proud scholar.

She grinned, pleased with herself, and stretched forward to poke at the fire with a long stick she had found at the foot of a milky corn tree. It hissed and snapped as she pushed around the glowing embers.

A comfortable silence settled around them, the cold wisp of the wood kept at bay by the soft heat of the flames.

'What do you feel for him, truly?' She heard Elyon ask, his voice gentle across the noise of the fire. Heat rose to her cheeks and she cast a furtive gaze at him. Though his tone was almost casual, the expression in his eyes was not.

What did she truly feel for Theodan?

How could she hope to answer such a question?

How many times had she tried to sort her feelings for Theodan into something recognisable? A hundred times. More. She failed, always.

Whenever she tried there was always some obstruction. When he'd rescued her from the sands of Azura she'd longed only to hate him, but his honourable treatment before Arielle had prevented her. Then she'd seen him through the eyes of others: Mor, Elyon, Jhaan, Iaria. She'd seen through the monster made for destruction to what lay beneath. A loyal, faithful male who sought only to protect those he cared for.

Then she'd lain with him. Let go of herself in a way she had not with any other before him. With the male who'd taken Galyn from her she'd felt something, many things, she'd never felt before.

'I...' she began. 'I mean... he...' She could find nothing solid. No words formed that could explain her feelings for him.

'It is a puzzling circumstance certainly,' Elyon filled. 'You carry your dead husband's child within you — the husband Theodan himself took from you. Theodan who led the armies that destroyed your beloved Azura, Theodan who claimed and enslaved you. A Leoth. An enemy you were taught to hate and fear your entire human life. And yet,' he smiled, his gaze narrowing keenly on her. 'I witnessed your farewell in Avalia ni Paleteia. I heard the words you spoke to him, the promise you cleaved from him. Heard too the tenderness etched in your voice as you did.' She met his stare directly, unflinching. She said nothing. 'Okay, let me ask you this instead,' Elyon asked. 'Why are you so afraid of going home, Princess?'

Her breath disappeared. Her heart sped up, the beat loud and quick in her ears. A thousand galloping varveh. She swallowed hard.

'Because when I look back over my shoulder I see it. War, chasing me,' she said, her voice and stare steady lest he see some other truth behind them. 'Because I have seen one home destroyed and I have no desire to watch it happen to another. Because now I carry a child inside me, a child I wish to shelter from the horrors of a realm at war though I am not certain that I can.'

He watched her closely, too closely, sharp inquisitive eyes searching for the truth. Searching for a lie. She decided to offer him something emphatically true in the hope it would satisfy him.

'Theodan made me feel...' the words tossed and turned on her tongue and from the melee she plucked the one that mattered most to her in that moment. 'Safe.'

He had promised to protect her.

And by leaving him she had forced him to break that promise.

Elyon said nothing, he merely stared as she played anxiously with a frayed corner of the blanket she had settled upon her thighs.

'Then I only hope you prove to be worthy of his loyalty, Fara of Calate.' Elyon muttered quietly after many moments.

There was a strange note to his voice, one she did not recognise at first, but then all at once she did. His gaze was distant and trance-like turned into the fire. And in it, there it shone. A truth she realised had been there all along in some form or another; in word and in deed, in look and in gesture, in loyalty and in sacrifice. Understanding struck like a match in the dark. A flame lit.

'You're in love with him,' she gasped, soft.

A small flicker of light sparked in Elyon's eyes, surprise, bright and loud. He smiled at her, his eyes shining like polished glass, an elusive otherworldliness to his features that was almost breathtaking to behold. He was as beautiful as Theodan, that same leothine beauty that now struck her dumb.

'It seems your willful blindness is not quite as far-reaching as his,' he said astutely.

'Does he know?'

Elyon shrugged. 'It does not matter, for I have long since put to rest any childish notion that I might be loved by him in the way that I desire.' His voice had only the faintest touch of regret but still, her heart pinched at such a love; unknown and unspoken. 'He knows my loyalty to him is endless. As a brother and as a friend. That is all I need him to know.'

She felt her mouth curve in sadness.

'Do not pity me,' he told her, his voice harder-edged suddenly. 'For I have found another whom I love dearly, and who loves me in return.' She would not argue, but the lingering note of longing in his tone spoke differently.

Suddenly, she felt guilty for having pulled this thread of truth from him. What right did she have to it when Theodan may not know of it himself? When it was likely Elyon had harboured it inside him since its birth.

'You too are hiding something, princess,' he told her, snapping her attention back to him. 'That much I am certain of. I had thought it was the child quickening within your womb but it is not — it is something more. Something which too lives inside you. Something, which, I warn you, I will not allow you to hurt him with.'

She frowned. 'I have no intention of hurting anyone,' she flared, accusingly. Only herself. She would do whatever it took to prevent this war coming to Calate's towns and Leoth's shores. To prevent it from destroying any more lives. The lives of the innocent women and children of Ethis.

'Then I shall hold you to that, Fara,' he warned, patting his makeshift pillow and shifting his body so that he was settled comfortably on the grass. He closed his eyes and was soon breathing deeply and slowly.

In the fragile warmth of the grove, she watched the flames of the fire until her eyes began to grow heavy. It was not long before she was lost in a thinly spun dream, the comforting scent of Leoth all around her, the feel of Theodan's arms encircling her, his own woodsy scent a balm to the lonely ache within her.

'My love, how I have missed you,' he whispered, his tone familiar. 'Never again shall you leave me... never again shall I be without you.' She turned, slowly, and looked up into the pale green-gold eyes of Valdr instead. She felt something cold and sharp press into the skin of her throat...

...and she awoke with a start.

The fire had long died and the grove was cold and milky with the light of the new day. She had been asleep hours yet it felt like only moments. Above her loomed the cool malevolent eyes of a man. Human, Calatian.

'She wakes,' the man smirked.

A chill crept up her spine as she moved to sit, angling her body carefully away from the rusted blade pressed against her throat just below the steel collar that denoted her as Theodan of Teredia's. A claim which meant nothing here.

She saw more men; two behind her captor, one further back in the trees, another who came into view from behind her. All five wore the uniform of the Calatian army but looked dirty and unwashed; deserters?

As she gazed, panicked, around the small grove, she saw no evidence of Elyon of Lethane. His saddle gone, his bags gone, not even the flattened grass where she'd watched him fall asleep remained.

Swallowing, she raised her chin and met the stare of the leader directly.

'Lower your blade,' she commanded. 'I am Fara, your princess.'