Page 6 of This Midsummer Heart (Seasons of Legend #4)

Chapter six

The Journey Begins

Auberon

T

he

road

holds

wonders

I never imagined when Titaine came to me with this hair-brained scheme to travel together. The smells of nature. The riot of colors and sound. The feeling of being enveloped in something powerful, even when the vistas open wide around us, fields and forests as far as the eye can see.

The further we travel from the city, bypassing the progressively smaller mortal towns beyond it, the fewer travelers and merchant caravans we pass. Our horses move quickly for being less weighed down, but also for the enchantments woven into their tack.

The times being what they are, I am skeptical of Titaine’s ability to cast proper enchantments, but so far they are holding fast. Whenever we pause to water the horses at a convenient stream or roadside pump, they don’t drink as deeply as I expect, nor do they appear to be tiring.

We also manage to travel in perfect silence.

I wish I could say this is the product of experience and maturity, but in truth, I think we are both lost in troubled thought.

For as we left our home in the city of Avalonne at first light this morning, the heralds were already out in the streets, proclaiming dire news.

A symposium of mortal scholars and mages has declared this a new era.

Per tradition, our world has been given a grim new name to match it:

Duskhold, because the era of magic is at its end.

Today is not all brooding and gloom, however.

Our stops for rest have been rather enjoyable.

As I recline on a rock beside the first stream, listening to the sounds of wind in the surrounding copse of trees and tracing the path of a dragonfly, I am reminded of how peaceful nature can be.

Something critical has been missing during my time in the city, always tied up in House business.

It’s something I can only find in the outdoors, paused like this, the sun shining on my face and shoulders like in the clearings of Glowarian Forest where I both played and trained as a boy.

It heats the metal links of my mail in a familiar, pleasant way.

Despite being early summer, the mornings are still dewy and cool in this part of the world, and this strong sunshine feels like a balm.

As we head southeast, that will change. Drastically.

I drink in the shade and gentle warmth of Laufee, savoring it while I have it.

Even the horses are at ease here, or as at ease as horses get, at least. What do those mortal mages know anyway?

There is nothing wrong with today. This is the perfect morning to relax and enjoy what summer has to offer, and I intend to do just that. Or at least I was

doing it, right up until—

“What’s that smirk for?” Titaine hisses.

My face snaps towards hers, away from the sun. I’ll find no warmth in this new direction. Titaine is glowering at me from beside her white mare, gripping the reins as if she suspects I mean to steal her.

“I didn’t smirk,” I reply, suppressing the immediate urge to wince. That is the wrong thing to say to Titaine.

“Yes, you did. You looked at my mare and smirked.

“ She jabs her finger into the mottled sunshine stretched between us. “I was the one who picked her out. I certainly haven’t kept her at my side out of some misplaced fondness for you.

”

Slowly, my head tilts as I study the pure white mare and the faint gray spots on her muzzle. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Titaine,” I say in mock surprise, my mouth stretching into the very smirk she accuses me of. “Did you bring my engagement gift to you on this journey? I had no idea you were so sentimental!”

Titaine’s cheeks flush scarlet so quickly, it’s hard to hold back a laugh. “You couldn’t even be bothered to find a suitable gift. I should’ve known then what kind of bond-mate you’d be.”

My eyes narrowed as I search for the memory. “I found her and purchased her for you.”

“You purchased her, yes.” Titaine’s gaze is barbed but brief as it touches me. She suddenly has to adjust something in her saddle pack. Not suspicious at all.

Understanding makes my face soften in surprise. “You tricky fae minx. You made me think

I’d thought of the gift myself—you even steered me toward the horse you wanted!”

Titaine clucks her tongue like I am some naughty child, just before she hops gracefully into the saddle, her sun-glazed wings fluttering to give her more loft. “You would’ve gotten me that awful bejeweled box you couldn’t stop looking at.”

“Awful?” I spring to my feet. “You gifted me

that box. A box you thought was—what? Tasteless?”

“You said it,” Titaine answers airily. “You loved

that gift.”

Trying to shut out her insults, I climb into my own horse’s saddle, intending to ignore her completely. Yet I can’t help but glance at Titaine’s beloved white mare.

She kept her. She was enraged enough by my dalliance to break the bond we had, but she kept my engagement gift.

Oh, Titaine. You do care, don’t you? At least you once did.

A half smile lifts away that tension in my jaw. If she really did care for me once before, then she might do so again. And I—well, is it too much to ask that I might actually be forgiven?

As I follow the gilded outline of her transparent wings, I find myself wondering whether that might be too much to hope for. For there’s still that one, tiny detail I have to contend with.

Titaine hates me.

Is the journey to Nox long enough for that to soften into dislike? For surely there’s no road on this planet that is long enough for Titaine to love me again. But dislike? Well, that would be an improvement. After all, I’ve plenty of dislike for her.

Love her, though? I never stopped. Not even when we were still bonded, and I realized she didn’t love me back.

My lady Titaine, you always were cold enough to stop even an elf’s heart.

Soon, the only sign of humans is in the form of farmhouses and little hamlets as quiet as ghost towns at this hour, when the farmers are still hard at work in the fields. Every now and then, the wind carries the tantalizing scents of lunch being prepared in the little houses.

“We should stop in,” I suggest, taking in a lungful of what is almost certainly roasting meat and berry pie. Across a field of tall sunflowers, their cheery faces bent towards the retreating light, I spot the little farmhouse that must be the source.

“We have provisions,” Titaine snaps. “More than we may need.”

“Strange, I seem to recall some pouty little fairy in the market telling me to buy less.”

“You bought enough cheese to open a small shop!”

I try to shoot a cool look her way, but she chooses just then to urge her horse onward. “I seem to recall you winning that argument,” I call after her.

She doesn’t reply. Typical Titaine, thinking she can just ignore me. I’d nearly forgotten she was like this, dismissive and thinking herself above everything and everyone, and not just because she is Houselord of the fae.

Vaguely, I notice that we’ve just passed a Y-shaped joining of paths—not quite a crossroads, but a subtle country juncture. Titaine leads us on confidently, as if she’s been here a hundred times.

Should I stop and check the map? She’ll only get further ahead. Still, I’m not sure I fully trust her sense of direction. Fae are very “everywhere is somewhere” when it comes to getting lost, and Titaine is no exception.

“Better we stop now and save our supplies for when we pass through the wilds,” I suggest as my gelding Raven pulls abreast of her mare.

Again, Titaine ignores me.

“A hot meal would ease our transition from the comforts of home to the open road,” I try again.

Nothing.

“Titaine, I want pie.”

“We don’t have time for pie,” she scoffs.

“On the contrary, I think we have plenty

of time. The horses can rest, since you’re so concerned, and I’m sure they’ll welcome us...”

Titaine twists in her saddle, her golden-brown eyes completely cold as she levels a glare at me. “We don’t

have unlimited time, and you shouldn’t assume we’ll be welcomed at mortal tables. From here on out, we can only trust our own kind.”

“A bleak view, even for you.” It’s my turn to scoff. “You hear one herald and assume the worst. And what’s the rush anyway? Unless you don’t

trust our own kind. Do you think we’ll arrive in Nox and find Robin has taken over both our Houses?”

This time, she does not bother to turn back and shoot daggers at me with her pretty eyes. People often think a beautiful face must twist in an ugly way to carry such an emotion. Titaine is proof they are wrong.

There is nothing that will stop your heart faster than an astonishingly beautiful woman looking at you like you’re a dimwitted toad idling in a cart wheel’s path.

I give in with a sigh. “So no pie, then.”

“No pie,” she confirms.

Such a loss. “The first thing I’m doing when we get to a mortal town,” I grouse, “is heading to a bakery.”

“Oh, Auberon. Still a hedonist, I see.”

“Some of us have earned the right.” I forged the peace of the House of Elves with my own blood, sweat, and pain.

“And you say I

think I’m better than everyone,“ she mutters.

“Just so you know, I can hear you.” No matter how ridiculously loud the insects and birds are out in these country fields. Honestly, it’s starting to grate on me.

She tips her head back, smiling sweetly. “I know you can.”

By the gods of the forest, the road to Nox is going to be a long one.

The long days of summer aren’t going to be enough to see us to our planned stop. “We won’t make it to Coronette Circle before dark,” I point out, needlessly. The sky is red and gold, the clouds streaked bright pink.

Titaine keeps the same pace on her mare, ignoring me.

“We have to make camp.”

Nothing.

It’s been a long time since I slept in the wilds, but those years of endless campaigning, taking turns keeping watch, of setting up the most secure camp sites possible, are deeply ingrained in me. And a good thing, for the sun is setting rapidly.

“That is a deep forest ahead,” I say, not bothering to pull out the map; the light is fading anyway, and my eyes are slow to adjust to the diminishing light.

I am only half dark elf, after all. “We’d most likely have to journey in quite a ways to find a clearing for a fire. I say we camp out here, in the open.”

Titaine doesn’t slow her mare’s pace. “What’s the matter, Auberon? Are your arms getting cold?”

I scoff. Dark elves do not get too cold.

Except I am

starting to feel a chill. There’s a cloak in my pack, but I don’t feel like validating her jibe at me right now.

“A fire keeps the wolves away. We don’t want to tempt them with our horses.”

“I told you already, the enchantments will only last so long. We should push on as far as we can. I’ll set wards when we arrive.”

“Arrive? Arrive where? The middle of the forest?” I snort—a perfectly derisive sound which she sadly cannot hear, as she is almost to the edge of the trees now.

This stretch of road, and that forest, are starting to feel a little too familiar.

The trees sway noisily on a wisp of a breeze, almost as if welcoming her.

History and elven epics will tell you countless reasons why the fae and the elves are enemies, but it often overlooks the simple facts: A dark elf’s natural home is the forest, and it absolutely rankles to see how traitorous they are around the fae.

So, more tired than I should be and as easily riled by Titaine as ever, I follow her.

“Titaine?” I shout after her. “Titaine! Coronette Circle is the first stop on our itinerary. We agreed! This better not be the forest of—“

The moment the darkness of the forest envelops me, I receive my due reward for remembering this place too slowly.

The wicked curve of a cold dagger presses tight against my throat.