Cruel

“You should have let us cut the skin off of one to make you a cover first.” Esus heard the disapproval in Ayred’s voice.

“I don’t think we have time.” Esus glanced to Silosyil who was looking into the middle distance.

“We have to be moving.” She nodded. “If it bothers you, give him your shirt, Ayred.”

Ayred looked sullenly at the woman as if he had expected her to be more appreciative of saving her life. He plunged his sword into the dirt as if trying to clean it minimally before sheathing it and stripped off his blood spattered shirt for Esus. “My apologies for not thinking of that sooner.”

Laughing quietly as he wound it and wrapped it for modesty, Esus thanked him, “I hadn’t intended on staying in this form for so long. Thank you for the shirt.”

Lifting Lutius again, they moved as quickly and as quietly as possible. The sun was rising as they stepped out of the woods onto the road. Silosyil looked around expectantly.

“This doesn’t seem safe.” Esus frowned at her, “Malav will be using the roads for his armies.”

“We’re supposed to meet someone.” Silosyil looked over at him with a smug smile.

Esus almost laughed when he saw her notice Ayred standing next to him steadying Lutius. Her cheeks colored and she was very obviously admiring the shirtless, well-muscled Prince. The sound of hoofbeats drew her attention before Ayred noticed her staring.

The priestess of Ayil, from Isemalrocath, was riding with a small entourage. Esus stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully as she came closer and stopped in front of him.

“Esus. You have made Ayil very unhappy.” Her tone was gently teasing and when he looked up to question her she drew his bag from a pouch on her saddle.

“My bag. What…”

“Charyic.” She opened it and withdrew a length of dark hair bound with a black leather strip.

His breath caught. “My beauty, where is she? What happened?”

“She’s still in Isemalrocath,” her eyes hardened, “you’ll find out what happened if you ever decide to go back. Leaving without a word was cruel.”

Esus stepped back and began to change. Charyic. Something was wrong, he had taken too long to return.

“You came all this way to tell him that?” Silosyil sounded incredulous.

“No, I’m being sent to speak to Malav because of Charyic’s plea.” The priestess shivered. “Ayil was very clear.” She pulled Ivhir’s knife from the bag and held it in her hand with the hair as she tossed the bag to the ground. “Esus, take that with you?” One of the men with her brought a simple cloth bag and she put the hair into the bag, tucking the knife discreetly into a leather pouch by her thigh.

He flapped his wings and grasped his empty bag in his talons. Ayred lifted him and tossed him awkwardly into the air without being asked and Esus beat his wings desperately heading for Isemalrocath.