Chapter 10

SONG VIBE: Trivia 承: Love: BTS (RM)

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SAPHIRA

Inner Keep, Renatus

A chill awoke Saphira. She sat upright in the bed and saw Nocturne buttoning up his linen shirt. Darkness still reigned, but the murky grey of the coming dawn coloured the sky. The torrents of rain had slowed to a gentle patter, bringing with it a pleasant summer heat.

Saphira held out her arms to him, “Don’t leave so soon.”

“I must,” he replied, smiling slightly.

Saphira said, “Will you go out the way you came?”

“I certainly came,” he said with a small hint of humour that Saphira did not understand.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/d0c412d826f76721b614e16337a9f1c4e1d1b2ce/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f636866476763346b625773575f773d3d2d313535303233313230362e313834633263626564623035656636383133303537303533383236382e706e67]

Above: "Don't leave so soon..."

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

He added seriously, “I have a spawnlord to slay, remember?” He stepped to the mantlepiece, his hand hovering over the knife he had placed there. After a moment of hesitation, he sheathed it back into his belt.

Saphira said, “You never told me what the message for my father was.”

Nocturne touched the knife at his belt. “I’ll keep this a secret, to protect your honour.”

Saphira said, whispering to herself, “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No,” he paused, a faint smile on his lips. “No, we didn’t.” He took his now-dry coat from the chair and slipped his warm boots on.

Is he going already? She thought, I need to show him how important this was for me, her heart sank as she thought, even if it was just pleasure for him.

His gloved hand rested on the windowsill. “Goodbye, my pretty little vila—”

“Wait—!” Saphira rose and, after wrapping a silken robe around her, she hurried to her counter. She chewed on her lip, thinking, There is one spell mother taught me—for someone I love. Do I dare try it? I suppose if something goes wrong, Nocturne would be the best person to have in the room.

Saphira explained, “A knight should have their lady’s token. I’m not good with embroidery, and I don’t want to give you something impersonal. Will you wait a moment? It’s the only thing I can give you that’s valuable. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

A look of pure intellectual curiosity took hold of Nocturne’s expression—he tilted his head and watched in fascination as Saphira braided a small section of her lavender hair, took out her sewing knife, and cut off the braid.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/3608675478643d8271ceb40d039d815916e50dc3/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6d7456593655637651676f425a773d3d2d313535303233313230362e313834633264323831663438363433613230353834353934323235302e706e67]

Above: A parting gift

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

The umber of his eyes softened as she walked over to him and indicated at his wrist.

He offered his left hand, and as Saphira tied the hair around his wrist, he said, “That’s very kind—”

“I’m not done yet. Give me your knife.”

Cautiously, Nocturne unsheathed the knife and handed it to Saphira, not taking his eyes off her gaze. Hands trembling, Saphira held the knife over her arm and sliced downwards. Blood—much more than Saphira anticipated—gushed from her arm, and poured over Nocturne’s arm.

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Nocturne’s dark eyes widened, but he did not look away—he watched Saphira carefully, with a close, curious gaze.

Saphira closed her eyes, ignoring the pain of her wound. Around her, she could feel the threads, connecting both her and her husband. The connection felt untenable and fresh, but with the sweet memories of the night just past, Saphira gently massaged the threads, coaxing them together, binding the lifeforce of her blood to the bracelet around Nocturne’s wrist. She thought of all her dreams of freedom, a life in the mountains with her new husband, and perhaps, even having children with him.

Purple tendrils swayed their way out of the end of the hair, connected with the other end to bind itself as a bracelet around the knight’s wrist.

Head spinning, Saphira looked up at her husband and smiled, saying, “There, that should keep you safe.”

Saphira’s eyelids fluttered shut as she collapsed into Nocturne’s arm. Oh dear, I think I cut too deep. Her world turned black.

Outside, a rooster crowed, Saphira felt herself lying on her bed. She opened her eyes and saw the murky grey of dawn outside. She felt Nocturne

Nocturne said, “I’ve cleaned up all the blood and bound your wound.” A sad look took hold of his expression. “I’ve covered my presence too—not even your magician will know I’ve been here.”

“I hope you don’t think that was gross, it’s actually—”

“This is very ancient magic.” He held up his wrist to his eye level and inspected the magic token with intense curiosity. He breathed, with almost excitement, “Few have seen it. Fewer still can practice it.” He savoured the scent of the bracelet, saying, “Just by touching it, I can sense your intentions.”

“My mother knew that magic well. She taught me a little before she died, in case I ever—” Saphira felt her cheeks warm. “It’s just a little protective charm—”

“—The Lover’s Bind,” he finished breathlessly.

Saphira’s violet eyes widened. “Is that what it is called?”

“Your lifeforce given to protect mine. The purest of intent magics.” He bowed his head. “I owe you an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“You’ve given me so much tonight—and even after everything, I still doubted you.” He touched the bracelet, his voice softening. “But now, I know you’re mine.”

Saphira's voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “You…doubted me?”

Nocturne sighed, his fingers brushing through her hair. “I overthought everything... I should have trusted your vows on the truthstone.”

His gaze flicked to the bloodstain on the bedsheets. “Tell no one I was here. Burn more rowanberries to mask my scent—I’ve covered my tracks while you slept. I didn’t want to tear your bed apart while you lay there, so you’ll need to strip the bed and burn the sheets, otherwise, the washerwomen will know what has happened.”

Saphira caught his finger and held on, saying, “One more kiss.”

His umber eyes looked longingly at Saphira, and he murmured, “If I kiss you goodbye, I won’t be able to stop, and the sun has almost risen.” He murmured, “I vow before the Almighty that I will be faithful to my vows, and I return for you, my wife—and I will take you away from here. Wait for me.”

Without waiting for a reply, he vaulted out of the window, vanishing into the darkness as quickly as he had entered.

Saphira rushed to the window and, in the pre-dawn light, she saw his cloaked figure almost fly down the side of the tower. She murmured, to the heavens above, “And I vow to wait for you.”

She paused, for a moment, and cherished the ash and wood scents he left behind. She swallowed the lump in her throat, thinking, He has my token, but I have nothing of him. Only a memory.

She touched her well-bandaged arm and thought, If ever I doubt this happened, I have a scar to prove it. She looked for Aurelian’s stone and thought sadly, Did he take that as well? If that’s the price I pay for keeping this night a secret…

Saphira wasted no more time. She bundled the silk sheets up and saw a few drops of blood. She hesitated for a moment and then stuffed the sheets into the fireplace.

Taking a lit candle, she held the flame to the silk. The dry silk caught fire immediately, burning into a fine ash. She collected the ash and tossed it outside the window, watching it drift away in the wind. She pulled from her linen closet spare silken sheets and remade the bed—it would be a long time until someone noticed there was a missing sheet.

Nocturne was right; the maids knew her moon cycle was only halfway through, and they would gossip if they saw unexpected blood on the sheets—especially if it bore the scent of a man. Since Saphira had no way of proving it was her husband she had lain with, and that she had not raised the alarm when her attacker infiltrated, her punishment could be banishment—or death.

With the evidence discarded, Saphira wondered if it had been all a false dream from a powerful nightspawn—hypnotic dreams which led people into spawnpits, coaxed them into killing their neighbours, and smothering their own children—one of the reasons all households strung up and burned rowanberries.

Perhaps it could have been a dream, she thought, if my body did not ache with the truth.

She felt the burn on her upper lip where his beard had chaffed her skin as they kissed; the mark on her breast where he had teased her with his teeth. She felt a cool trail down her thigh and let out a wild, breathless laugh. It really happened. I’m married. I can’t wait to tell Celestine.

From her basin of water, she wiped herself down and then re-braided her hair back into the style of a maiden. With tongs, she took a few hot coals from the fire, then she added rowanberries on top, burning them. With a yawn, she slipped into her bed and buried her face into her pillow, scenting the man who had lain there—fire, smoke, and forest.

I don’t want to burn this—it smells like him.

Wrapped up in her clean, silken sheets, Saphira lay in a sleepy state, dreaming of her husband. Remembered how soft his lips felt against hers, how it felt to have him inside her, consuming her mind, body and soul. The blood loss and exhaustion from casting the spell hit Saphira, and she closed her eyelids and fell asleep.