Page 27 of House of Gilded Nightmares

“We should ride on,” he says, and he urges his gelding forward across the ridge of the mountain.

Chapter Eleven

The next day passes uneventfully, as does the one after that. But with each mile, I feel a tension building within me. The idea of letting the nightmares break into Aureon seems impossible, but the idea of marrying a complete stranger seems equally so.

Each day we wake at dawn and break our fast with the hard biscuits from our satchels. We alternate between trotting and cantering the horses, at times letting them walk to rest. My muscles are sore from the long hours in the saddle, usually more than a dozen. Dinner is the only hot meal when Zyren catches something and cooks for us. I try to help by picking berries and herbs to accompany the main course. I also learn how to hobble the horses using one of the reins from their bridles so they can graze at night without traveling too far.

On our eighth day of travel, the last of the food runs out, so we’re forced to find a town to replenish our supplies.

“Baston is not far from here,” Zyren says as we saddle up after eating the last of the bread for lunch. A river meanders by a few feet away. “We can make it by nightfall if we ride hard.”

“I would very much like to take a bath.” I look wistfully down at my dirty clothes. “Though not one with barely any water like the bath in Yiltsa.”

“Baston doesn’t have an inn.” Zyren points to the river. “You’d probably better bathe here.”

I glance from Zyren to the water and back again. “In the river?”

He shrugs. “I should probably take one as well. We don’t have much luxury up here in the mountains.” Something in his tone rings almost with a challenge, as if he doesn’t think the girl raised in the palace can rough it.

“I don’t need luxury. The river is fine.”

A smile. “Okay, then.”

“Well, turn around first!” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes.

His smile widens and he turns around so he’s facing away from me. I walk to the water’s edge. It’s a gently flowing river with several small pools near the boulders along the banks. I take off my clothes and leave them in a pile in the grass and tiptoe to the edge. The water isn’t as frigid as I was afraid it would be.

When I’m fully submerged in one of the pools near the bank, I call, “I’m in. If you’re going to…that is, if you want to get in also.” I realize that sounded almost like an invitation and add quickly, “Somewhere else, of course.”

Zyren doesn’t respond, so I look over where he’s standing, facing away from me, to see that he’s already stripped off his cloak and tunic. I blush as my eyes wander along the hard, scarred expanse of his back, and I turn quickly away and focus on scrubbing my skin and hair. There’s no soap, of course, but I can at least get the excess dirt and dust from the road off of me.

When I turn around several minutes later, Zyren is safely submerged beneath the water a couple dozen feet away. It’s when my gaze returns to my part of the river that I see the riders approaching from the opposite bank.

“Zyren!” I call, but he’s already rising from the water and striding for his clothes and sword. In my panic, I follow him, not caring that we are both unclothed and soaking wet. He manages to tug on his pants, and me my long tunic, before the riders stop on the other side of the river.

“Greetings, travelers!” calls one of the men.

There are five riders, three men and two women. They appear to be a hunting party judging by the many animal carcasses draped over their horses behind the saddle. Birds and rabbits, and over the back of one, a large deer. Their clothing is bright and patterned, of quality make but clearly hand-woven. I notice their horses are all the same golden color, with manes ranging from pure white to deep gold. I’ve never seen such horses before.

“I hope your arrows have been swift today, friends,” Zyren responds, “and the road free of mud.”

The hunters all smile. The man who greeted us says, “You are a friend of the Veyeni people, I see. We must offer you hospitality back at our camp.”

I look between Zyren and the hunters, my muscles relaxing slightly.

“We are honored by your offer,” Zyren says. “But we must reach Baston by sunset.”

“I’m afraid you will not have luck, friend,” the woman says. Even from this distance, I can see that her eyes are a piercing jade color. “Baston was visited by nightmares the night before last. The entire town was destroyed.”

Shock washes over Zyren’s face. “But the lunar eclipse ended many nights ago…”

“You must have been on the road for some time,” the man says. “This is not the first such attack. There have been many. It seems with the Obsidian Moon so close to completing its cycle, the barrier containing the nightmares has remained down.”

Zyren’s gaze moves to mine a moment before moving back to the hunters. “This is grave news.” He pauses a moment. “We are running low on supplies, so we would welcome a night of hospitality. You are most gracious.”

“We will wait for you and your wife to finish dressing and then lead the way back to our camp,” the man says. “I am Tamhain.”

“My wife is Sari,” Zyren says, “and I am Sen.”

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