Black Sapphire | Xaden Riorson | S/H

XXII

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     I shouldn't be out here and I know it, but I've been skipping breakfast too much recently. It's not like anyone is looking for me.
     A bouncing rustle gets my attention and I keep my stance held still. I move my eyes about to see if I can find it. And then I do, paused in between two bundles of overgrowth in a low-grass spot. I wait for it to begin moving again before drawing back the string. It's a bit crude, one of the older bows offered on the rack of weapons of choice on the back wall of the sparring gym. But it's not like I don't know how to handle a bow that's janky.
     In its own light bouncing, it doesn't pick up on the tiny creak of the wood, or if does, it disregards it. One reason I hate those stupid crossbows, because this one sounds like the trees bending under their own weight. It's not unique in this brush.
     Just before it gets itself hidden underneath a branch, I let go. The arrow goes exactly where I wanted and I let out a small sigh. Painless and instant, which is the best I can offer it.

     I carry it in the small leather satchel and begin out immediately. The leather is freshly pressed, mostly hiding its scent from any other critters around after the snap of the string. I don't think animals mind dignity much but it doesn't hurt to offer it.
     When I get out of the woods, the sun finally starting to set proper over the ridgeline of the valley, I get a clear view across the field. It's where Threshing took place, stretching far back from the Iakobos river. I'd gone further north following the water. That puts me not too far from the stairs leading down to the valley when I emerge proper.
     There he is, his arms crossed over his chest and leaned back against the rocky cliff. He's right on the corner where they began to cut into the rock to carve out a path upward, and he's looking straight at me.
     "What are you doing down here?" he questions. I raise an eyebrow and look over at the setting sun that's almost gone, but it's definitely not curfew yet. I probably have an hour.
     I look back and he continues to watch me. His eyes skim over me, and I can see them trace down the yellowing bowstring strapped across my chest. I'm sure he wonders why I chose such an old one that might snap.
     "Don't make me ask again, Vicious," he grumbles with a bored look on his face, but he obviously isn't or else he wouldn't be out here. I pinch my lips and then shrug.
     "You tell me your reason first," I reply. I finally get closer to the stairs, and thus, him, standing only a few feet diagonal of both.
     "Wingleader business," he tells calmly. I roll my eyes.
     "Everything you do is wingleader business, Riorson. You could eat a cake and call it wingleader business." He cocks an eyebrow and I almost smile at the memory. Fen loved talking about him. Once, when I was visiting the Riorson House, I'd asked why there was a two-tiered chocolate cake on the table despite there being no other food. Apparently, it was his favorite.

     "Answer the question." I huff at him and shake my head lightly.
     "I was hunting. Hence the bow." His brows furrow, electing two perfectly symmetical lines to burrow into his skin between them.
     "We serve food in the kitchen, you know." I shake my head again.
     "I don't trust you all kill them how I want. I won't complain, I'll just do it myself. But I do need to get going, to get it inside." His eyes flicker across me, looking for whatever I managed to get, but I don't give him the answer.
     His legs are powerful, keeping easy pace with me as we climb the stairs. I swear I might just call Tairn over to lift me out of this. Maybe I would, if he wasn't upset with me.
     "I'm not." The sound of his voice startles me and I pause for a mere moment on the stairs. Xaden glances back at me when I begin again and somehow, we end up side-by-side once more.
     "You haven't spoken to me in a while. I'm really sorry I asked that of you, about Mavis. I really appreciate what you did for me." I can hear him grumble in my mind as I watch the stone steps before me. We come to a landing and walk across it steadily before reaching another.
     "Sgaeyl is pleased," he tells me, and I smile a bit.
     "I'm glad. I hope she approves of me."
     "She approves of none, crowned one. Not even the wingleader sometimes." I snort and look over at Xaden. He looks good in the shadows. They're definitely his element, flipping around him and curling like tendrils under his feet.