Onyx Blood [True North series book 2/3]
Chapter 17 - the Walk

Thoridor and I walked out into the palace square, and followed the coral reef-lined shell paths into the royal gardens.

“How do these grow?” I asked him, gesturing to the aquatic flora that grew in the dry air.

“Magic, mostly,” Thoridor replied, “this lake used to be part of the ocean. My ancestors separated it into a lake to found Aquatic Ardanis — as a lake was safer than the ocean, and easier to protect. They have charmed the flora to keep growing, and have ensured a self-sustaining environment for the aquatic animals that became trapped here.”

“The Nixal,” I mumbled.

“Amongst others,” Thoridor nodded.

“Tell me about Aerial Ardanis,” I asked, looking up at the tunnel in the dome of water around us, “is it anything like this place?”

Thoridor scratched his beard. “Not really,” he said pensively, “the palace itself is not part of the city. Both the palace and the city are built upon pieces of land that have been charmed to float amongst the clouds. They’re relatively close together, but not connected, so the palace is a lot more secluded than the Terrestrial and Aquatic palaces. A lot smaller too — I’d say about a quarter of the size of this one.”

“A city in the clouds,” I mumbled dreamingly, “that sounds like a fairytale. I’d love to see it one day.”

I felt Thoridor’s eyes burn into the side of my face, “I’ll take you there soon,” he said, “if you want me to.”

I nodded. “I’d like that. How do you get up there, though?” I asked.

“We fly,” Thoridor replied matter-of-factly. I deadpanned him. “I don’t fly,” I said redundantly.

“I do,” Thoridor said, “I’ll take you.”

“I don’t want you to shift,” I reminded him, “you’ll lose your human— Ardanian side.”

Thoridor chuckled. “It doesn’t happen that quickly. We’ll go straight up, and I’ll switch back immediately afterwards. But let’s worry about that later. Would you tell me about your parents?”

“Sure,” I said, surprised by his interest in my family, “what would you like to know?”

Thoridor shrugged. “Whatever you want to tell me. I’d like to learn about the people who raised you.”

“Okay,” I said, and smiled at the memory of my parents. “My mother’s name was Jorinia, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen — until I came here, of course. There’s no comparing humans to Ardanians — you people are breathtaking. But so was my mother. She was beautiful, with dark blonde hair and bright, hazel eyes. She was a midwife in our village, and helped deliver countless babies. She taught me everything I know. I loved her dearly.”

I cleared my throat. “My father was Aldor Eloweth, he was a blacksmith, and he was one of the kindest people I have ever met. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body. He worshipped the ground my mother walked upon — I have never seen two people so in love, it was incredible. And although he wasn’t much of a baker, he made us the most amazing honey pie for each of our birthdays. I still dream about it sometimes.” I smiled sadly as the memory flooded my heart with both joy and longing.

Thoridor looked at me for a long moment. “They sound incredible,” he said, “they must have loved you dearly.”

“They did,” I agreed, “the thought of leaving us behind after they passed broke their hearts. I assured them I’d always take care of my—,” I couldn’t finish that sentence, as a lump formed in my throat.

I choked back tears and averted my eyes to keep Thoridor from seeing them.

“Serin,” he said gently, “I’m so sorry. I made you break that promise. I’m so sorry I took you from your family.”

“Thanks, Thor,” I said, and instinctively reached for his hand. Touching him immediately lifted some of the weight of my heart. I closed my eyes as the now-familiar sparks washed over me.

“What’s honey?” Thoridor asked, after we had walked in silence for a while. It made me smile.

“It’s this… very sweet, viscous liquid. It’s made from nectar. You use it to sweeten things, or to help cure a sore throat, for example. Or to bribe your little brother into taking his medicine.”

Thoridor nodded. “We have nectar in Ardanis,” he said, deep in thought.

“Well, it’s like that, I think,” I said, “just a sweet liquid, basically.”

Thoridor gently guided me to the right at the fork in the path we were following.

“Who taught you how to hunt?” he inquired.

“My father taught me the basics,” I replied, “but he wasn’t very good, to be honest. I’m a much better archer than he ever was. He made sure to tell everyone who would listen, too. He bragged about my hunting to the whole village.”

My hand still rested on Thoridor’s, and I gently traced along the rough skin around his knuckles, and then intertwined my fingers with his. The only indication Thoridor felt the same way I did was his breathing — it immediately picked up speed and turned ragged. It made my insides turn to slush —the skin-to-skin contact, however minimal it may have been, along with his breathing— it made me feel things I never had before.

Thoridor had stopped walking, and turned toward me. He stepped closer, carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. He kept coming closer until the toes of our boots touched. I answered his unspoken question by closing the remaining distance between us. Our fronts were now flush against each other, and I looked up to meet his eyes. Thoridor leaned forward ever so slightly, until the tip of his nose brushed against the space between my eyebrows. For a split second, I contemplated wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him, but then I remembered Warrian.

“I—”, I began, but Thoridor cut me off.

“I know,” he said, “and I commend you for that. Let me take you back to your room.”

I looked at Thoridor for a few heartbeats, and noticed something had changed within me. I saw him now. I saw him as he was — not as the beastly brute from before. I saw the kindness in his smile, and the fire in his eyes. Good fire. Fire I wanted to be close to — close enough to get burned, if I wouldn’t be careful. But I would be. I’d be careful around him. Careful enough to get really, really close, but not get burned.

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