A bolt from the blue

"Do not worry about Lilith. I promise to take good care of her. Heal your father." Anstice whispered in Mircea's ear while she had Mircea in a death grip, giving her a good-bye hug.

Anstice had come first thing in the morning, banging on Mircea's door to apologize about yesterday's incident.

Mircea had told her not to fret about it much, but she kept saying sorry. Again and again. 

In the last two days, Anstice had warmed up to Mircea. She was a bubble of sunshine and laughter made by Saints themselves. She took care of Lilith, Athos and Mircea like her own people.

Mircea felt surreal around her.

How could she trust some strangers who had stumbled upon her door injured?

Urban told her it was just the way his sister is. Mircea felt a pang of jealousy; she wished she could have such trust in people, such faith. 

Anstice's faith was rare and beautiful.  

The steel clock hit seven. It was time. 

"You take care of yourself as well; I will come back for Lilith." Mircea croaked, loosening her grip on Anstice. She nodded at Mircea, a light smile drawing on her radiant face as she looked outside.

Bright sun rays are dancing on the snow-kissed ground. It is a breathtaking view; mountains sprawled as long as eyes can see. This is what East of Gyyza looked like in the daylight. A small smile painted her lips, it was a long journey, but she would save her father at last. 

Athos, Urban and his understudy- as he had called him, walked with the horses and their sags. Leigh was the name of Urban's understudy. Mircea didn't for one second, doubt his abilities. The tea he made for her yesterday was enough proof he was as good as Anstice.

Healing everyone with his marvellous food. 

The smile left Mircea's eyes when she realized they had only three horses left after Cosmas, Orion and Chiron's death. They left their horses behind. It seemed a good idea at that time but not anymore.

"Don't you have horses here?" Mircea asked the question running in her mind. 

"No, we have wagons, or we simply thread." 

"Thread?" Mircea didn't know what it meant. Maybe it was some witch thing they used here for transport.

"We use magic to jump from one place to other." It meant travelling through no air in different dimensions. Mircea never learned about this maybe, it was a secret kept from other kingdoms.

And Anstice telling her so easily meant she trusted Mircea to not tell anybody about it.

"Can't we simply do that and thread ourselves to Slyve?" She thought of it as an easy way. No one would get killed.

"No, only high witches or witchers can do that and…Urban…he won't do that even if he can." It was a vague answer, but Mircea didn't pry further. They both sauntered to where the men were stationed, each with one horse.

Urban had Athena, she looked at Athos for an answer, but he shrugged, looking away. She gazed at Urban, who had donned a violet coat just like hers to keep their bodies warm from the frost.

Everything in the house had been in the shades of violet. It was a thing in the court of frost. Every high house of Gyyza had a color appointed. 

Urban was arranging some weird saddle on Athena, her horse's back. He never brought up what happened yesterday night and Mircea was thankful for that, but what was he doing with Athena?

It irked Mircea that she couldn't read Urban's expressions. She tried to understand what the Witcher, who was going to heal her father was like. But he talked to her only when he felt like it. It had started to get under Mircea's skin. 

Mircea thought Urban was her problem-solver, perhaps he was, but there was something else about him.

Something other than being a healer.

Something other than being an erudite witcher with precious knowledge about old herbs. 

"How are we going to ride?" Mircea stared blankly at the three of them. Leigh had already settled on Lilith's horse with his and Urban's sags.

Athos didn't dare look at her.

Meanwhile, Urban finished binding the saddle and climbed on Athena's back swiftly, like he'd known how to ride a horse.

"Well this is interesting," Anstice mused. It was not interesting. At all. To ride to Slyve with someone. Mircea didn't know how that would work out.

"So, who are you choosing?" Anstice purred, chuckling softly. 

"There is nothing to choose. She will ride her horse…with me." Urban declared, Anstice and Mircea both gaped at him.

"If you are uncomfortable, I can manage to get us a horse, but it will require at least two days." He glanced at Mircea. Anstice and Leigh nodded at his sentence.

Mircea didn't say anything; his weird saddle, which he had managed to put around Athena's back, was large enough for them both to ride comfortably. 

After what felt like an eternity to Urban, Mircea took his extended hand and climbed on the horse.

"I will command her." She craned back to glance at the house, where Lilith was still unconscious. She had written her a letter and handed it to Anstice.

She will come back, she had promised Lilith in that letter. 

"Hold on tight," She roared before squeezing the horse. Athos and Leigh following her suit.

***

Mircea's determination has vanished in the dull air like the sun behind the icy mountains. After hours of riding in the frost, she had noticed the warmth radiating off Urban's body and how ridiculously close they had been all this time. 

It had dawned upon her how their arrangement was going to continue for the next two days. Urban hadn't said much during the ride, but his presence, just like his hands around her waist, was heavy and arresting. 

"Maybe we should stop. The sun has already gone in hiding," Athos called out, stealing words from Mircea's mouth. 

"Yes," Mircea nodded 

"No, we will ride till the foot of Weno Mountain and camp there for the night," Urban interjected. Mircea and Athos didn't know where the mountain was.

"Why there? We are obscured, aren't we?" Athos stepped forward. Leigh had used his powers to conceal all four of them from plain sight. No one lingering in the woods would suspect their presence even if they came face-to-face. 

"The witches who roam on this mountain are far more deadly and cunning than the vampires you encountered. And the power they pose is just as deadly," Urban informed quietly, his hands tightened around Mircea making her squirm.

"Are you alright?" He whispered in her hair. She simply nodded in response. 

"I can't command the horse in dark." She murmured, hating to admit her weakness. Urban almost didn't hear her over her hair and the wind. 

"You insisted on commanding it. Just hand me the rope." He quietly said, somehow knowing Mircea wanted to keep this conversation between them. Their hands lightly brushed in the darkness when Urban tugged at the ropes.

Mircea ignored the small beads of unwelcomed warmth from the contact. She instantly brushed her hands on Athena's trimmed hair. 

***

The heat of Slyve welcomes the four with a gentle warm breeze. It was a long three-day journey with a lot of anticipation. The nearer they trotted, the more Mircea felt anxious. Worried about her father and his health. 

The journey was wearisome, they had almost confronted a group of witches the next morning, but Urban had played it smart.

Mircea believed the Saints were on her side, at least this time. The witches were young, distracted and impotent. 

Tricking them to go the other way was so unchallenging for Urban that Leigh did not interfere. When they had entered the capital city of Slyve, Mircea had ordered Urban to remove whatever cloak sheathed them from the naked eye. 

When the four trudged together through the Paean market, which was at the foot of the hill on which the castle rested, eyes turned.

Everyone was looking at them with a particular gleam in their eyes. 

Some eyes were full of resentment, some were shocked, and some looked at them like they were their salvation. Like Mircea was the answer to their prayers. 

"Is it always like this? I feel they will murder us any moment now." Leigh shuddered, staring at the crowd. 

"No, something has happened." Athos answers before Mircea gets a chance. 

"Something is very wrong, indeed." She says, looking at the sea of people gathered in front of the centre hall. An open street hall specially made by the king for announcements and other purposes. 

Mircea jumped off the horse and dashed through the crowd. 

"You all! Are a proof, the judge of what has happened and what will happen! Let me announce it to you all again! You will be the eyewitness of the public execution of Princess Faustina, who has been found guilty of the murder of Renomous Isadore Cattel, the fourth King of Slyve in an attempt to steal the crown and throne of Slyve with her husband, Prince Pyron." There was an announcement made on the large speakers by a very familiar voice. 

The words made Mircea's blood run cold. Her legs gave up instantly, bringing her to her knees.