Page 132 of Cursed Dreams
“Where are you headed?” Nyla asked.
“Trading up the western roads,” Aric replied. “But I’ll take you as far as you need. Besides, I owe you lot for helping save my skin. Least I can do is spare your feet a few miles.”
Cellen sank down low in the back of the wagon. “A few miles? You beautiful, wonderful, man! You’re a divine blessing wrapped in mortal skin. Aric”
“I’m married, you flirt,” Aric shot back with a laugh.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t admire.”
Their laughter filled the air as the wagon rolled steadily on, lifting spirits and easing the tension that had built over the long road. Thalia felt herself relax as the gentle sway of the cart and the familiarity of Aric’s company put them all at ease.
“So, how’s your wife, Aric?” Marand asked as she leaned against the side of the wagon, her smile soft. “And your little girl?”
At once, Aric’s face brightened. “Marna’s as fierce as ever. Still thinks I should be resting more, but I told her rests for the dead.” He winked. “And little Lysa… you wouldn’t believe how fast she’s growing. She’s got my stubbornness and her mother’s fire. Which means I’m hopelessly outnumbered at home.”
Nyla laughed. “Sounds like you’re doomed.”
“Absolutely. And I love every minute of it.” Aric’s grin was contagious. “She’s taken to singing every chance she gets now, little made-up songs, tuneless as a crow, but she sings ‘em like she’s on stage for the queen.”
They all chuckled warmly, the image of Aric's daughter dancing around a hearth bringing light to the tiredness lingering in their bones.
“You sure we’re not taking you too far off course?” Thalia asked gently.
“Not at all,” Aric said with a wave of his hand. “Temple’s only a few days' ride from the edge of my route. And after everything you did for me? I’d haul you lot to the end of the world if that’s where you needed to go. Healers like you deserve it.”
“We still don’t knowhowyou recovered,” Nyla said, glancing toward Thalia.
Aric raised an eyebrow and cut her off with a playful shake of his head. “Shh. Don’t ruin the moment. Let me think I was blessed by the gods and leave it there.”
Cellen leaned back on the wagon bench a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Well, Idohave divine energy. It radiates off me, you see.”
“More like the smell of old rotten herbs and ego,” Nyla muttered.
“Hey!”
The wagon erupted with laughter again.
That evening, after miles of road and sun-dappled fields, they set up camp beside a gently flowing stream. The soft gurgle of water and the chirp of crickets filled the air as Aric prepared a pot over the fire. The scent of something spiced and savoury filled the clearing, causing Thalia’s stomach to growl loudly.
They sat close together on bedrolls, sharing warm bread and stories. Aric told tales of old markets and near-misses on mountain roads; Cellen entertained them with dramatic embellishments about a rogue chicken during their anatomy lessons. Even Marand, usually so quiet and reserved, joined in with a dry quip that had Cellen clutching his stomach from laughter.
Thalia found herself leaning back on her elbows, watching the firelight dance across her friends’ faces. Nyla’s eyes sparkled as she sipped from a warm cup of spiced wine, Marand leaned into Cellen as he mock-grumbled about their “gruelling trek,” and Aric sat with a fatherly calm, stirring the pot and humming an off-key tune. Contented she let her gaze drift up to the stars. She let her thoughts drift to Caelum once again, hope rising in her chest that tonight when she slept, she might finally see him. She longed to tell him everything that had happened since their last encounter, longed to lay in his arms. As if the thought of him summoned it she could feel the burning ache within her chest. Looking down she noticed a small but subtle glow radiating from under her robe. She pulled her cloak tighter to hide it from Aric, her heartbeat steadying as the warmth settled low in her ribs.
They continued the evening with food and laughter, soft conversation easing the edge of weariness. One by one, they said their goodnights, the weight of the day finally catching up to them.
When Thalia curled beneath her blankets, the flicker of the fire still glowing nearby and the quiet breath of her friends around her, she let herself drift into sleep, wrapped in warmth, in hope, and for the first time in days, in a sense of safety.
When Thalia next opened her eyes, the crackling of the fire had long since dulled to soft embers, the forest heavy with the quiet stillness of night. Curled beneath her blanket, she was barely conscious of the shifting weight near the wagon, until Aric’s sharp whisper cut through the dark.
"Get up. Quickly. I hear hooves. There’s riders coming."
Panic surged through her. Nyla and Cellen snapped upright, confused and bleary, while Marand shot a concerned glance toward Aric, who was already tugging his boots on. The tension in his voice had them fully alert in an instant.
"Could be bandits," he said in a muffled voice. "Get into the trees. Now. No arguing."
“But—” Cellen began to protest, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Just do it!" Aric hissed, already moving to guide them off the road and into the thick underbrush. "I’ll stay by the wagon. If it’s nothing, you’ll be back in two minutes. If it’s something, you’re better off not being seen. More of a surprise if they attack."
