By the time the caravan had crossed into the territory belonging to the Camelia, Eirian was well and truly considering murder.
There was some element of self-defense, after all. It was entirely possible her new husband was planning the same. Or to lock her away in a tower somewhere.
There were plenty of cliffs to accidentally hurl her off of.
The land that belonged to the Camelia was dramatic and dour, with dramatic cliffs, deep gorges, and rushing rivers as dark as the night sky. And nary a level surface in sight. The Camelia's lands stretched for hundreds of miles along the Borderlands between the Land of Sorrow and the Land of Song and Snow.
It was one of the largest bloodline estates in the land, but its inability to grow anything substantial and its constant battling with the wild tribes that inhabited the lands between and refused to recognize either made it an undesirable place by many standards.
It housed the great force, the Crimson Army, which protected the kingdom from invasions from the East. Indeed, from everything she understood of the region, the estate called the Camelia was, in fact, an incredibly large military fortress.
No wonder they hadn't thrown a ball in a hundred years.
The carriage rocked to a stop, and Eirian reminded herself that it was a two-week journey back the other way. If they were in any shape to make it again so soon.
There was a fuss outside, raised voices, and the slamming of carriage doors. The Camelia had sent her entire escort. They'd been in such a rush to get on the road that they'd even skipped proper introductions, and most of what Eirian got at night and in the morning was. "Hurry, My Lady." and "Rest well, My Lady."
She had livelier conversations with the carriage walls.
"...the carpet."
"Hurry."
"Make it flat."
"How's the carpet supposed to be flat when the ground's not flat."
"Truly, a riveting conversation."
Well, that last one was Eirian to herself as she gave up waiting and wrenched open the carriage door. There was a faded red carpet spread unevenly over the ground, leading from the doorway of her carriage to...
The cliff's edge.
Had her dear husband-to-be decided to have his men kill her before she even reached the estate? And in such a dramatic manner.
Well, if they thought she was going to willing walk to her own death. They had another thing coming.
She hopped down from the carriage, pulling her magic around her until it sparked and sizzled. She'd been trapped in the carriage for twelve days. A good fight would be a nice way to stretch her legs and warm her up for whoever came after her next.
Except when she swept out, she got a series of started yelps and a complete lack of sharp blades.
It was rather disappointing, actually.
The guards were all young, clad in the black light armor that bore the symbol of the Camelia. A ruby camelia and sword carved into the chest plate. It was a symbol that hadn't changed in hundreds of years, and it showed. It was a bit...clunky. Old fashioned compared those she'd seen in the capital.
There was a handful of maids in various tones of grey, and even they were armed. Was there anyone
They stared at her in surprise, like rabbits caught in snares, and then threw themselves into low bows with a chorus of "Milady."
Eirian stared at them, "So...no fight then?" Her magic fizzled out, the air around went still and bland.
The guards and maids shared confused looks. "What fight, Milady?"
They were no threat, Eirian realized. Most of them were younger than her. They'd probably never left the Camelia, though a few of them bore scars that came from battle.
There was something...hanging on them. No, around them. Clinging. A misery? A darkness?
No, she realized, a miasma. Something sickly and terrible that had dug its roots in. There wasn't enough of it to be anchored in one of them, but they'd spent significant time with whoever it was.
None of them realized it was there. How had they missed it?
"Nevermind. Why are we stopped?"
The maids straightened, and the guards rushed to finish straightening the carpet.
One of the maids, a dour young woman with her hair pulled back into a severe bun, stepped forward. "We thought you might like to stop and see."
Eirian glanced around.
There was nothing here. Just the expanse of horizon in every direction and the endless sky. They had to be on one of the highest peaks in the area, overlooking a good chunk of the Camelia's vast estate.
Which looked like nothing more than a long expanse of ghost canyons as far as she could see, and from this height, they simply looked like flat ground; only the gorges closest could be spotted. It wasn't exactly the terrain of her favorite adventure novels or her stepmother's beloved romantic nonsense.
She raised an eyebrow. It was her favorite expression. Her stepmother had complained about it constantly, convinced it wasn't 'lady-like.'
Eirian didn't take advice on how to be a lady from a twenty-something who seduced and married a man forty years her senior in the name of wealth and influence.
Eirian firmly believed that if you were going to be that ridiculous, you should only do it for love.
She sighed; they all seemed terribly excited, but now that the threat was gone, she was mostly just tired and hungry. She didn't want to stop and see the sights. "What, exactly, am I supposed to be looking at?"
They scrambled into formation, lining the faded carpet, and Eirian gave in for the sake of moving things along and stalked to the end of it.
To the edge of the cliff.