angry, too

6. Stitched In Different Emotions

   Lethe had been riding on a horse for five hours. She didn't think that she could be any more sore than she was right now. Her lips were parched, but she was used to that. She had gotten used to dehydration years ago, and she could hold out for a lot longer in between sips of water. "We're getting closer," She heard one guard tell another. She tried not to get her hopes up too much. She could not wait to get to the city though.

   Her mind kept trying to stray and think of ways to escape this marriage, which she knew was a desperate symptom of the fact that she didn't actually want to go through with this. But, if she kept doing this, she knew that something bad was about to happen. Something that she might not be able to survive. Lethe bit her lip as they kept riding. The sun beat down on her and she thought about the ways that she wished that things were different. If she had been a boy, she wouldn't have to worry about getting married to someone that she didn't love. She would have her own throne.

   'That isn't true, you know that.' Lethe thought to herself.

   She would probably be dead as well. Lethe was hopeless as this point. There was no way to get out of this, and even if there was she doubted that her circumstances would get any better. The best thing she could hope for was a merciful end whenever the Fates decided that they were done playing with her.

   They cut through a reddish orange valley of sand. The wind started to kick up and the grainy soil whipped at her and her horse. Her eyes stung a little and it was clear what was coming. A sandstorm. At least she would get to stop whilst they waited it out.

*

   Viktor was used to the smell of smoke. It clung to the lower cities of every kingdom that he had ever lived in, but it was especially thick tonight. He coughed a little as he walked down the street. Tonight was colder than usual, he was used to the sun making it intolerably hot.
  
     The cold was not something that he was used to. Not something that he liked. He sighed, eager to get home before the chaos began. Everyone kept talking about the warlord that was coming through. A lot of the enforcers were stressed about the uptick in crime, but Viktor just found it an ample opportunity to get some business done.

   More people here also meant more things to steal and that was always a plus.

   There was one thing that was bothering him, though. He kept thinking about the princess that this warlord was supposedly marrying. She was from a dying royal house. There weren't many dying royal houses at the moment except for one.

   The one that was responsible for his mother's death, and some of his worse injuries.

   The Pearltongue house.