Chapter 18 - Saphira

SONG VIBE: Save Me - BTS

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SAPHIRA

The Outer Wall, Renatus

“—I laid with him and—” Saphira said, her voice trembling but resolute, “—and I carry his child.”

The silence swirled, brewed, growing heavy and grim.

Nobody moved—not even Nocturne.

Saphira could not make out his expression—not from this distance—but he stood frozen, his hand clenched over his sword hilt. Then, his head turned as if he could not quite believe what he had heard.

Saphira closed her eyes, thinking, I’m sorry you had to find out like this, Nocturne. No intimacy, no joy—just a public spectacle. But I had to say it now, otherwise I will be given to Hyland, and who knows what Duke Vladislav would do with our baby?

“The truth!” Crassus demanded, his face a mask of cold fury, “Gregor,” he hissed. “Bring the truthstone, now.”

Gregor stepped forward, his dark robes flowing behind him like spilled ink. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unsheathed a small blade and drew it across his palm. Blood dripped onto the smooth, egg-shaped stone he cradled in his other hand. The truthstone absorbed the crimson drops eagerly, the dark veins within it churning and shifting like a brewing storm.

She reached out, steadying her trembling hand as best she could, and pressed her palm against its swirling surface, feeling the cold fury of its retribution underneath. She kept her eyes on Nocturne, the father of her child, the only person who mattered, the only one who could steady her voice. Say this in a way that leaves no room for doubt—show him I’m not like my father.

She vowed, “I lay with the Lord Nocturne, Count of Firestone, on our wedding night; I have known no other. I am with his child.”

The truthstone pulsed, its black core swirling like a storm cloud caught in the throes of rage. For an agonising moment, the stone resisted, as if tasting her words, weighing them. Then, it shifted—black turned to grey, the storm within beginning to settle. Warmth seeped into her palm, faint at first but unmistakable, welcoming her words inside with satisfaction—and then turned a brilliant azure blue.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as the tension broke.

Saphira dared a glance toward Nocturne. His figure remained unmoving, his head tilted down slightly, his expression hidden by shadows and the distance. But she could feel his energy even from here—a whirlwind of disbelief, confusion, and something deeper. His hand had fallen from his sword, hanging limp by his side. He did not look at her; he stared at the truthstone, his gaze locked on its brilliant glow, as if trying to comprehend the weight of what it signified.

“This cannot be so,” Crassus whispered.

“The stone does not lie, your Grace,” Gregor replied, “Her words are the truth. She is with child.”

“Then she was deceived—” the Duke’s gaze shifted to Saphira’s belly, and he saw the small swell there. His steely blue eyes widened. “I see now.”

He took his cane into both his hands and raised it to Saphira’s shoulder. Then, he thrust the claw into her. The tip pierced through the thick protection of Saphira’s fur coat. She cried out in pain as her father pressed into her, cutting into her flesh. “I’m sick of your tricks, girl. Tell the truth.”

Nocturne flinched, his hand drawing his sword.

Saphira cried, “It’s the truth!”

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Close up, her father’s face was burning red. His breath came in exacerbated rasps, angry and visibly shaken as he had never been before. He whispered softly, his voice full of hurt, “How could you betray me like this? Just like your mother. You have no use now.”

His words cut deeper than the wound. Saphira looked over her father’s shoulder and saw Sage holding Birch back with a firm hand over his chest.

Gregor stood with his hands hidden in his cloak. Daisy watched on with the same self-satisfied smirk she inherited from Crassus.

Touching the cane, Saphira felt the pull of power within, it felt wild and erratic, like lightning, but with more will. She grasped onto the power, not pulling but pushing. The cane repelled backwards, taking Crassus with it. He landed with an undignified clang as his ceremonial armour hit the floor.

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Crassus drew himself to his feet. He grabbed Saphira by the collar and pulled her to him. Smiling as he murmured to her alone, “You’ve ruined yourself, but there is one way you can be of use.”

“How—”

A powerful force ripped Saphira from his grasp, and she fell off the edge of the battlements.

She felt the wind rush around her as she fell face first, feeling the air rush through her fingertips. She yanked reflexively, pulling upwards. A huge gust of wind hit her from underneath, slowing her fall. As she shot upwards into the sky, she saw the men on the wall load their crossbows. As she fell again, wind—not a burst of air, but like a hand—cradled around her, launching her across the Killing Field.

Nocturne kicked Gin into action, bolting across the field as Saphira fell from the sky.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/f150a619edf51318e5e3595d25c3bf2e1f86c40a/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f61556b36536731596776676b34773d3d2d313535343732373234372e313834643834363937373931303933393936373333303635333933382e706e67]

Above: Nocturne rides to save Saphira.

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

Nocturne vaulted from his stallion, leaping through the air to grab Saphira. He landed on his shoulder with a lithe roll, his leather pauldron absorbing the impact of the fall.

He hauled Saphira over his shoulder and slipped her on his back, yelling, “Hold on!”

Gin pivoted, galloping towards them. Then, as Gin galloped past, with inhuman strength, he grasped onto the saddle and vaulted on. Saphira clung to his back. Gin did not miss a stride; he galloped towards the tree line.

“Ride!” Nocturne commanded, “Fall back!”

Saphira heard a whizzing sound. She glanced behind her and saw the Killing Field light up with flaming crossbow bolts. Nocturne signalled to Gin, and the stallion leapt through the air, jumping into the safety of the tree line. Inches behind Saphira, the bolts struck the ground, lighting the grass on fire, flames igniting the dry brush.

Nocturne pulled Gin to a stop. His hand reached behind and moved Saphira to his front.

Saphira looked behind her again. From the gates of the Renatii castle, mounted knights gave chase, charging forward in a sea of purple cloth and hungry steel.

In front of them, Lysander hauled an unconscious Augustus onto a horse and mounted behind him. The magician’s entire hand was black and smouldered in the cool morning air.

As the last of his men rode away, Nocturne again kicked Gin into action, quickly working the stallion back up into a gallop. He stood in the stirrups and leaned forward. With one hand, he held the reigns and with the other, he held Saphira in place.

Gin shot forward as if he was waiting for the moment to do what he was born to do. Saphira felt as though her body was floating as the horse moved under her, his muscles bunching up and releasing, his hooves hitting the ground with a hypnotically perfect rhythm. The thick of the forest whipped passed them, a dark blur of greens and browns, and somehow, Gin ran true.

The wind blew hard into Saphira’s face and she partially shut her eyes; she could not see clearly, nor hear clearly with the wind rushing. Her eyes watered as the stallion’s mane licked her face, stinging her cheeks. She realised that her veil had lifted off, left streaming behind her in the wind, she closed her eyes and, for a single moment, appreciated the wind on her bare face.

An arrow hissed past them, followed by another. Reflexively, Saphira turned her head to look. Nocturne yelled, his words caught and blown away by the wind. But Saphira understood the message—do not move. Dread quickly replaced the fleeting excitement brought on by the rush of adrenaline. She shut her eyes tight, hoping that, for a moment, she would open them and they would be safe.

An arrow flew past them with a hiss and embedded into a tree, the oil vial shattering, bursting the tree into flames.

Nocturne shifted, commanding Gin to slow down. He held on to the stallion with the inside of his legs. He removed one foot from the stirrups and hooked his leg around Saphira’s, bringing it towards the stirrup.

He slipped the reins into Saphira’s hands and yelled, “Hold course!”

With an inhuman leap, Nocturne leapt off Gin, landing with a roll that put him on his feet.

The last Saphira saw, was of him drawing his sword. She clung on to Gin, tears stinging her eyes.