So, the inns in this town are also full? Oris raised her gaze to the skies while rubbing up and down the side of her arms to get rid of the chill she felt. "It's going to rain soon," she mumbled to herself and leaned against the body of the carriage.

She entertained herself by watching Faeradaigh dart in and out of buildings, his expression darkening with each rejection. This was the third town they had parked in and the unwillingness of the patrons must have been grating on his nerves.

If not for the threat of rain, Oris wouldn't have minded the wait, because if the eunuch wasn't running about he'd be hovering over her, and she wasn't ready for his attentions just yet.

She didn't particularly care where she slept as long as she did sleep, the exhaustion of nonstop travel was already catching up with her.

It was clear to see that the people were not in support of Hermes and his decision to steal beauties. Maybe they were afraid for their daughters' sake or maybe they just didn't want anything to do with people bearing the crest of the New World. The reason didn't matter, the situation clear to see even without one.

They were not welcome.

Despite the fact that it had left her without a roof over her head, she was glad that Hermes hadn't garnered as much supporters as the rumors said. Regardless of the fact that the wars have ended, people were still unsatisfied. That made rebelling all the more easy.

Maybe if I say I'm a queen that came back from the dead they'd accommodate me, she thought humorously, trying to distract herself from how cold she was. Maybe they'll even join the cause.

Of course, it was all wishful thinking. Rebelling was the furthest thing from her mind now, really. Without any proof from Rodholf, she doubted the skeptical masses would believe her even if her hair was as red as the sun and made of blood itself.

"I'll take a stable over sleeping in this carriage," she groaned under her breath, wishing that it was possible. She really didn't want to spent the night exposed to nature's ire but she doubted Mother Earth would stall the pour down just for her.

She had a strong feeling that she would be drenched longed before she found shelter. Fate just liked playing with her that way, it seems.

It is not right for the emperor's future bride to share a room with horses, she was sure Faeradaigh would say if she even brought up the suggestion, as though being a bride would matter if she fell sick and died on the journey to Heshera.

About to start pacing just to give herself something to do to warm herself up, Oris paused when she heard a gruff chuckle from behind her, her right foot already off the ground.

"You—" she turned around sharply, wanting to see who dared sneak up on her, "are not a driver."

She stared at the man who sat in the long seat in front of her carriage, the reins to the horses wrapped in his hands and his figure made hazy by her veil. Those alone where clues enough to determine his business here but what made her narrow her eyes at him was the obvious thickness of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders and the sense of danger that exuded off him like a natural warning signal.

The man had an aura identical to Rodholf's, an air of someone who has taken countless lives for his state and did not mind taking a few more. All that was missing was a sword and a set of armor to complete the picture and he'd be fit to stand by the side of a ruthless king.

"You're a Knight," she concluded, phrasing her words in such a way that if they proved true she could acknowledge them and if not, say she had been asking a question.

"At your service, My Lady," the man said, neither denying nor confirming her statement.

Oris nearly laughed on seeing how her own ploy had been used against her. Slightly intrigued, she shuffled closer to the man, ignoring the way the wind was whipping her hair, veil and dress about.

"Does His Majesty know you're here, milord?" She hugged herself tightly in an effort to keep warm while peering up at him.

"There are no more battles in which I need to prove my mettle."

"Afraid of wasting away in the palace?"

"Afraid of His Majesty bestowing a title upon me and forcing me to settle down," he said with what had to have been a conspirational smile.

Oris laughed at that, she couldn't help it. It had been so long since she had had a decent conversation with someone who spoke so freely about Hermes. It was utterly refreshing.

"So, you chose to escape to the corners of his newly founded empire?" she teased without even realizing that she was doing it.

"A part of me hoped he wouldn't find me," he said bitterly, but there was detectable humor in his tone. "But he did and now I'm heading back in order to fulfil a degree."

"Will you be punished?" Oris asked, slightly worried for his wellbeing. "It is hard to find such a versatile driver in these times."

The man laughed. It was a pleasant sound amongst all the thunder. Loud and long and full of feeling.

She remembered times when Bren used to laugh like that. Now he didn't even so as much as flash a smile in her direction. Sometimes she thought the he didn't love her anymore but all she had to do was watch for how he stared at her when he thought she wasn't aware and all those doubts were wiped away.

He was always holding himself back, afraid of what would happen if he indulged his desires. All because Fate had decided that their destinies were not aligned.

"You did not ask what the decree was."

Oris blinked and stared at the man, his quiet words pulling her away from the past. "What was the decree?" she asked cautiously.

"To protect the emperor's bride on her way to Heshera," he said. "That kills two finches with one shot, does it not? Ensuring my return while guaranteeing your safety."

"Quite," she replied, for lack of anything else to say. "Were the other ladies privileged enough to have you as company?"

"No," the Knight shook his head, "their security was quite lax, compared to yours at least."

"So what makes me so special," Oris asked. "Milord?" she added, realizing how carried away she had gotten. She had forgotten the difference in their stations.

"Mikeal," he said, bowing his head slightly, "My Lady."

"It is a pleasure to be acquainted," she held her hands to the left of her and lowered down in a curtsy, not missing the way his lips quirked up into a half smile.

In a flash, Mikeal was by her side, a hand on her arm to lift her up. "Someone of your station shouldn't bow to the likes of me," he shook his head softly.

Oris turned to look at him, now able to see his distinct features through the veil now that he was up close.

The Knight had muddy brown hair packed into a high ponytail and equally brown eyes that scanned her twice as though he was also observing her for the first time.

He was tan, his skin far from fair and pale, showing that he spent most of his time in the Sun's embrace. The color was something Oris envied, for no matter how long she stayed outdoors, her skin remained pale.

She could picture a younger him with an infectious smile riding horses in the plains just like she did when she was younger, hiding when rain fell and playing swords with his brothers. Only, he would be in Inae and she in Orse. Regardless, she felt a sort of kinship with him that she hadn't felt with another.

If his master hadn't been so ambitious then maybe they would have been better acquainted by now. Maybe they could have been friends.

Soon enough the vision faded and she was brought to the present with dark clouds rolling over her head and thunder cracking in the background. It took all she had not to clap her hands over her ears in anticipation of the deafening sound each time she saw lightning flash.

She had not always been this scared of storms, but falling off a horse during one changed things. A part of her couldn't help but feel that they were bad omens, particularly when horses were involved.

"I have yet to reach the capital," she stated, still not able to take her eyes away from Mikeal. "My station has been yet to be determined, milord."

"You may call me by my name," he said, his hand still on her arm despite the fact that they both now stood at full height, "My Lady."

"Then," Oris started, feeling her heart pick up its pace the longer he stared at her, "I shall, milo. . . Mikeal."

She felt like offering the same but it was yet to be determined whether she would use Eve's name or her own so it was best to be as vague possible in conversations.

Then Mikeal smiled. The sight was vague but despite that, Oris felt heat rush to her cheeks when she realized that she had wanted to see him pleased with her.

She bowed her head and took a step back, confused as to why she could still feel her heart beats in her fingertips. She was neither terrified or angry, so why?

Her sudden retreat caused Mikeal's hold on her to slip, his fingers moving gracefully down her upper arm to grasp her hand lightly.

He lifted her digits to his lips and placed a soft kiss atop her knuckles.

Alarmed, she jerked her gaze from the muddy ground back towards him but saw no fear in his eyes. He didn't care that she was the emperor's future bride just like she found herself not caring that he was Hermes' Knight.

They held each other's gaze and remained unmoving, frozen in that instant until the sound of a man's loud cursing interrupted the moment.

Oris jumped away from Mikeal as the Knight vaulted himself into the driver's seat, her hands shaking as she turned in preparation for Faeradaigh's arrival.

"I finally found a place, it's not all too pretty but it will be decent enough to fend the storm off in," he said, his thin lips pulled into a deep frown. "I need to get back to make sure they don't go about changing their minds. It's best you get in the carriage," he shot a glare at the sky, "I wouldn't want you getting wet."

Oris curtsied and said nothing, watching him stomp away. She had long given up wondering what he had done to get his position. She just hoped that she'd be seeing less of him in the palace.

She reached up for the carriage door, not minding having to get in her herself—Faeradaigh had carted the wooden steps along with him for whatever reason. She didn't want Mikeal to be so close to her when she hadn't yet figured out his intentions and understood why she herself was so open with him in the first place.

The carriage floor was only two or three steps away from the ground. The distance was one she knew she'd be able to make without embarrassing herself but before she could even make an attempt warm fingers settled on her waist. Both surprising her and taking her breath, the hands lifted her into the carriage.

"Mikeal!" she shouted without a second thought then turned around to face him when she realized what she had done. "That was," she cleared her throat, her cheeks set aflame, "highly improper."

Mikeal didn't say anything at first and just watched her closely as though she was something to decipher. Then he shook his head. "You could have called for assistance."

"I was fine on my own."

"You are special because you are the last beauty to solidify His Majesty's reign," he said suddenly.

It took some seconds for Oris to realize that he was answering her earlier question. But before she could say another word, the carriage door was shut, sealing her in darkness with a thousand thoughts milling about her mind.

~