I see Olexandrya’s worried face. The sky is a blur of rolling grays behind her.
“Aerida,” she breathes, leaning closer. “Are you okay?”
I reach up towards her. My arms are black and the skin moves like liquid.
“Aerida?”
A hand tears through Olexandrya’s chest. A gray claw flexes as it emerges, drenched in her blood.
“It’s fine,” Olexandrya says, smiling at me. “It doesn’t hurt.”
The dream ends around there. I wake up in Olexandrya’s arms. We’re lying together on her bedroll. She has me pressed against her chest, her arm hooked around me.
I breathe into her shoulder, confused by the situation. I’m still wearing the remains of my blouse but something is tightly wrapped around my chest.
It’s dark, and the air is cold. My chest aches.
“Olexandrya,” I whisper, angling my head so one of my horns prods her cheek. “Will you let go of me?”
“Ow…” Olexandrya grumbles, grabbing my horn and angling it away from her face. In the process, she presses my face against her breast.
Her body is hot against me. In fact, it’s absurdly comfortable here.
So I resist the urge to bite her. It feels like a childish instinct; one that I’m too frustrated to act out.
I think of Jeremias and his claws on my chest. I hate myself for freezing. For standing there and letting him do as he pleased.
The damned envoy had been more use than I was. The stupid figurine horse fought the Demon Lord’s strongest general. I’m not even sure if that horse has thoughts, but it put up more of a fight than I did.
I twist, trying again to get free of Olexandrya’s grasp.
“Be still,” she moans.
Anger boils in my chest. Be still? What am I? A bedside convenience?
Fuck it. I bite Olexandrya’s breast. Hard.
She shrieks and shoves me away. I roll, slipping out from under the covers and onto the cold ground.
The cold hits me like knives all over my body. I curl up, shivering and digging my fingers into my face.
“Ow!” Olexandrya complains, sitting up. “What was that for?”
I don’t respond. I just shrink into a ball on the ground. How has it gotten so cold? I think of that man’s claws again. Just there. On my chest. On my head. In my chest.
I’ve been so close to death so many times. But it’s never felt that way. It’s never felt like standing on the edge of a cliff I couldn’t see. It’s never been so viscerally horrifying.
I breathe heavily. Each breath seems to tear at my throat as it escapes me. Why are my lungs burning? Is the ground moving?
Olexandrya’s warm hand appears on my back.
“Calm down,” she says. “You’re going to freeze to death. Get back under the covers.”
“Leave me alone.”
She says nothing. She just sits there. Her hand doesn’t leave my back. I force my eyes closed. When I open them, I see golden hair.
It’s the same as before. A figure running ahead of me, golden hair whipping behind them. Now, I can make out the shape of horns on the figure’s head.
The horns are similar to my own. About six inches and curved backward.
“Who are you?” I mumble.
The figure stops running. The hair settles on its back. It starts to turn towards me. I glimpse the skin of a face and the world closes in around us, like walls rushing in from all sides.
Her lips move moments before she vanishes into that rushing darkness.
“Rowen?” The voice is small, like whistling wind. It’s buried under an avalanche of silence.
I wake again in Olexandrya’s arms. She’s taken me back under the covers. She’s warm, at least. That’s probably why. No matter how covered she is, if I’m cold, she’s cold. It’s only practical.
I decide against resisting. It’s just too cold to bother.
It’s still cold come morning. I wake to Rakel arguing with the envoy.
“I don’t care what you think,” Rakel snaps. “We aren’t killing her!”
I push off of Olexandrya’s sleeping form. The bandages on my chest are stained red. I find similar bandages on Olexandrya’s chest.
Olexandrya snores, her arm falling to her side as I peel myself away from her.
“What is this demon to you lot?” the envoy barks. “She must be some treasure if you’re all so attached to her!”
“If you keep making a fuss,” Pepper pipes up. “We’ll just ditch you.”
I sit up, and all eyes snap to me.
Pepper is tying a pack to one of the horses. Rakel has the other two by their reins.
The envoy is sitting on empty air, chin propped on his hand.
“Will you wake Drya up?” Rakel asks, ignoring the envoy’s scowl. “It’s gonna start snowing soon and we need to get moving.”
I stare at her. Since when did Olexandrya become my responsibility?
“Where did that demon come from?” The envoy asks. “Why was it speaking to you?”
I shiver as I slip out from under the covers. Now is not the time to be wearing a skirt.
“Rakel…” my voice is hoarse.
Rakel passes the reins to Pepper and walks over to me.
“Do you have…” I gesture to myself. My torn-up blouse and my skirt. “Clothes?”
“Oh. Shit. Let me…” Rakel hurries off to the horses and opens her pack.
I turn to Olexandrya. She’s still snoring in the bedroll. I can’t deny that she makes a comfortable pillow at the very least. I haven’t slept that well in… ever.
“Hey,” I say. “Wake up.”
Nothing.
I pinch her nose until her eyes open.
“What?” Olexandrya groans, sitting up.
I watch as she stretches and cracks nearly every joint in her body.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, tugging the blanket over myself.
“Shoot.”
“What?”
“Just ask me.”
I stare at the ground.
“Do you know anything…” I stall, unsure how to word the question. It’s all so vague. A woman with a glass eye. A figure with golden hair. A church. A village destroyed. The harder I try to recall those days, the hazier they are. “About a land kissed by the stars?”
Olexandrya blinks.
“No,” she says. “Why?”
“I grew up there. Before I met the Demon Lord.”
Olexandrya’s eyes widen.
“Here,” Rakel says, coming back with a thick tunic and trousers. “Drya, get up, would you?”
“Alright, alright.”
I take the clothes and spare a glance at the envoy. I don’t want him to watch me undress, and I don’t feel like moving. So I just pull the tunic on over the ruins of my blouse and the trousers on under the skirt.
Olexandrya packs up and loads her things onto Crusch. I watch, hugging myself inside the tunic.
Rakel and Pepper are already mounting their horses.
I hate the cold. It never got this cold at home in the Demon Lord’s palace. I find the envoy scowling at me from his spot. I don’t have the energy to return his hatred.
“What was it like?” Olexandrya asks. “‘A land kissed by stars.’ It sounds beautiful, if not a bit flowery.”
“It’s because it’s on a mountain,” I say. “A big one.”
“Like Koho?”
I stare.
“What?”
“Koho,” she says again. “It’s a big mountain.”
I shrug.
“I suppose so, then. I guess it is like Koho. I don’t remember much about it, though. The more I think about it, the harder it is to remember.”
Olexandrya gives me a long look.
“Say,” I say. “Olexandrya.”
“Drya,” she corrects.
“What will happen to me when we reach the capital? Should I expect everyone to look at me like that man? Will everyone question why you’re housing a demon so protectively?”
Olexandrya looks over Crusch, glaring at the envoy. He looks away.
“I was joking at first,” I go on. “But maybe it will be easier if you play the role of my master. Or at least simpler to explain.”
“You will not let that go,” Olexandrya says. “It’s absurd.”
“No. Think. Who all knows about me housing some of your soul?”
Olexandrya chews on her lip.
“The coalition, Pepper and Rakel.”
“Will the coalition tell anyone?”
“Aluerme may be furious with me. But she isn’t the traitorous type. I doubt she’d allow word to spread.”
I question her faith in Aluerme but decide not to argue.
“If I’m to expect everyone to look at me the way that man does,” I say, aiming a finger at the envoy. “It’ll be easier to explain me being your servant than however else you’d explain this… situation.”
Her face darkens.
“You know what? Fine.” She throws up her hands. “But I have a condition.”
“What sort of condition?”
“Call me Drya,” she says. “That’s the condition.”
I glower.
“Well.” Olexandrya waves me over. “Up you go.”
I glower in her direction.
“You’re going to make me carry you?”
“That demon would’ve killed me,” I say, running a hand through my hair. I shiver, thinking of Jeremias’s claws against my scalp. “Just like that.” I feel the weightlessness. My body limp in his grasp. His claws on my chest. Inches from my heart. “Just like that,” I say again.
Olexandrya’s expression softens.
“It’s scary,” she says. “Isn’t it? When you don’t have control.”
“You ready, or what?” Rakel calls. “Let’s go!”
“One second!” Olexandrya calls back.
I get up, watching my breath cloud.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say as I approach Olexandrya and Crusch. “I should’ve fought him.”
“You were afraid,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing.
“I know. That’s the problem.”
I watch as Olexandrya climbs onto Crusch. Then, I put a foot into the stirrup and let her pull me up behind her. I sit backwards, like I always do. I’m not sure why. It feels more comfortable this way.
I rest my back against hers while Olexandrya gets Crusch moving.
Rakel and Pepper fall in behind us. The envoy starts walking, quickly falling behind.
We don’t speak for a while. Pepper and Rakel bicker about Jeremias.
“If you would’ve woken me up,” Pepper says. “I could’ve helped.”
“It was over in less than five minutes,” Rakel pushes back. “I didn’t have time to wake you up. And what would you have done?”
“I don’t know, won, probably. Unlike you.”
“He was just too tough,” Rakel says. “If it weren’t for Aerida, I would’ve been gutted back there. I was hitting him, but I could tell it wasn’t having any effect. Like punching the ground.”
I close my eyes, hoping they’ll believe that I’m asleep.
The sun is beginning its descent when we reach a cliff side.
“There’s the ocean,” Olexandrya says, bringing Crusch a bit closer to the edge than I’d like.
Below is a strip of rocky sand pressed between the cliff wall and blue.
Just blue. As far as the eye can see.
I’ve heard of the ocean. But it’s a bit different seeing it in person. Smelling the salt on the wind and watching the waves roll and crash.
“Huh,” I say.
“Can we make Alleport before dark?” Rakel asks.
“If we’re fast,” Pepper says.
“Alright,” Olexandrya says. “Hold on to me, Aerida. We’re speeding up.”
I grab Olexandrya’s shoulder and awkwardly turn myself around. Then, I hook both arms around her waist, pressing myself against her.
I really don’t need to cling. I can stay just fine while the horse is galloping. But I’m learning to appreciate how comfortable Olexandrya’s body is.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready.”
I watch the ocean as we race along the cliff side. I don’t realize that the steady bouncing of the horse’s back carried me into sleep until Olexandrya’s yelling wakes me up.
“There it is!”
I crane my neck, getting a look at the scenery ahead.
The sky is orange, red, and streaked with black clouds. Hills roll into the distance. A river cuts through them, sparkling in the daylight. Houses are sprinkled throughout the green, varying from huts to massive structures.
“Huh,” I say. “People.”
“We made it to Alleport!” Pepper announces. “Finally!”
“This is my hometown,” Olexandrya says. “It’s not really a town. It’s sort of a bunch of people that just live near each other.”
“That sounds like a town,” I say.
“I guess.”
I eye the first house we come across. It’s small, and the roof is partially caved in.
An old man is petting a cow out front. He’s shirtless and scowls at us.
“Hey, Newton,” Olexandrya says.
The cow makes a loud groan.
The old man waves. His eyes land on me and he stares. I watch his eyes flick up towards my horns.
I wave.
“Hey Newton!” Pepper yells. “Oh, and hi Charles.”
“Afternoon, Pepper,” the man says. His voice is strangely smooth. “Rakel.”
“Charles.” Rakel gives a stiff nod.
I squint at the man.
“Who’s Newton?” I ask.
“The cow,” Olexandrya says. “A witch turned him into a cow.”
I furrow my brow at the cow as it grows further away.
Ahead, a few buildings are closer together near the foot of a hill.
A bell rings.
Olexandrya stiffens.
“Are they serious?” Pepper whines. “They’re still cutting people’s heads off?”
“Huh?” I whip my head around.
“It’s an evening execution,” Olexandrya says. “I told them to stop, but they’re still doing it.” She kicks Crusch into a gallop.
“Why?” I ask, tightening my grip on her.
“It’s a religious thing!”
The sky has darkened enough that the buildings are black shapes as we race by.
Ahead, a torch lit plaza is filled with people. At the center is a guillotine and a massive bell.
A small body is locked into the guillotine, face buried in white curls. A man stands in blue robes, yelling in a language I don’t understand.
The crowd scatters as Crusch charges in. Olexandrya moves, dropping off the side and charging the man.
“Drya?” The man gasps before Olexandrya punches him in the face.