by Frost Kay
Tension in her body eased as he moved farther away. She watched the exchange between Rhys and the other warriors, once again noting the differences between them. All of the men were extremely tall, but that was where the similarities ended. The warriors were flawless, like they were sculpted from stone. High cheekbones, cut jawlines, coal-black hair, smooth olive skin, and deep brown eyes. She’d always thought Rhys unremarkable, but here among the flawless warriors, he was downright ugly. A perverse sense of delight bubbled up in her. He was the damaged one here.
“Stop smiling or someone will notice your disrespect, woman.”
Sage cleared all expression from her face and blankly stared at the bone and feathers woven into Blair’s raven-colored braids.
“You’ll have to do better than that if you want to survive us, woman. You need to have self-control.”
Self-control? Anger pushed through the icy fear still gripping her. If she didn’t have self-control, she and Jasmine would have been dead already. A grunt left his lips when she didn’t answer, and he stepped closer to her, cupping her chin. Her body froze when he tipped his head forward, his braids falling around their faces like black silken curtains.
“Look at me, Sage.”
She met his deep brown eyes at the soft tone. It unnerved her that, up close, he didn’t appear so harsh.
“Stop baiting him,” he breathed. “You’re owned by the warlord. You’re his possession.”
“Possession?”
“All women are possessions of the warlord.” The leader shook his head. “If you keep baiting Rhys, he will lose control of his berserker rage. He’ll kill you before he knows what he did. You’re putting all of us in danger.”
Sage mulled over the information. Rhys was on the edge of losing it. She could see it and so could his warriors. “What do you want for that little bit of information?” she whispered back, just as softly. No one gave information away for free. It was every bit a currency as gold.
His eyes ran over her face, softening a little, almost friendly. If possible, her body stiffened even more. He was not her ally, and she was not a woman to be passed around. “No. My body is not payment.” She’d die before she let them use her like that.
“It’s not what you think.”
A snort escaped her. “Then what? Are you my friend now?” she asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. The last thing she needed was another beating. She was sure there had to be something wrong with her mind from all the blows to the head she’d recently received.
“I’m not your friend, and never will be. I’m just trying to save my men.”
That was truthful. He may have been the enemy, but he did care for his men.
He leaned back and gestured to the men setting up camp. “They die if you die.”
That disturbed her. “Why?”
To her surprise, he answered her: “Because we would have failed to complete our task. The warlord does not have time for things that are not useful.”
Disgusted, she grimaced. No one should use a person like that, but in the back of her mind, an idea took root. If she died, they died. It was simple.
“I know what you’re thinking.” He shook his head. “You’re not selfish enough to do it.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I’ve known people like you. Despite what you know of us, you wouldn’t sacrifice all these men. It wouldn’t be something you could shoulder. It would destroy you.”
“Perhaps, but none of you are men.” His eyes narrowed, but she hurt too much to care. Maybe if he hit her, she would black out for a bit and find some relief.
He raised a brow. “Then what are we?”
“Monsters,” she said, not losing eye contact. They were. They weren’t human.
“Always remember that,” he said as he tossed the end of the rope at her feet. “Tend to the other woman.”
She let out a sigh of relief as the frighteningly intense warrior turned from her and prowled toward his men. She winced as she gathered up her leash and picked her way to Jasmine, who sat on the ground glaring at all of the surrounding men. Sage slid down the tree next to the feisty brunette and watched as a camp emerged among the trees.
“How are you?”
Jasmine scoffed. “Well, that’s obvious. I am damn peachy.”
The reply pulled a smile from Sage, despite her split lip. “What’s the worst of it, Jas?”
Jas grimaced and pulled in a painful breath. “The cracked ribs. I think they may have broken one yesterday.”
“Did you bind it?”
“Sort of.”
Sage moved onto her knees. “Let me see it.”
Jasmine shifted to the side. “Lift my shirt, please. My shoulder’s not working.”
Sage gently pulled up the woman’s shirt. “Beasts,” she hissed. Jasmine’s skin was mottled purple, blue, and green. She glanced at her friend’s pained face. “I’m sorry for this, Jas. This is going to hurt.”
“Do what you must.”
She sat back and stared at her shirt. There wasn’t enough fabric. “Swamp apples,” she cursed. “I will have to ask them for supplies.”
Jasmine gripped her thigh as she moved to stand up. “Don’t. They’ll just taunt you.”
She met her friend’s remarkable blue-gray eyes. “I’ve no other choice. You can’t go on without healing.”
She squeezed Jasmine’s hand once and forced herself to stand on her cut feet. Once again, she squished through the mud and leaves toward the men forming up camp. It discomfited her greatly, but it was better than being in Rhys’ arms. She scanned the camp and caught sight of the leader. “Blair!”
The camp seemed to freeze at her shout. The large man turned, his mouth turned down. “What did you call me?”
Hell. She’d broken some sort of protocol. “Your name.”
The black slashes of his brows rose as the whole camp seemed to hold their breath. “This is not Aermia. You may not speak to me as you wish.”
Gritting her teeth, she calmed herself at his mocking tone. She needed supplies for Jasmine. Time to play nice. Sage dipped into a deep curtsey, humiliated. But it was worth it for her friend.
“My apologies. What shall I call you?”
“My lord.”
She pulled herself from her deep curtsey and met his eyes. “My lord… I need supplies for Jasmine. Her injuries need care.”
He eyed her. “Do you not have fabric?”
Sage blew out a breath. Obviously not, since she was asking him. “No, I do not.”
Rhys sauntered back into camp, his gaze dipping to her shirt. “Seems to me you do.”
Her lips thinned. “There’s not enough material,” she replied as calmly as she could. “And its filthy.”
Lazily, Rhys smiled at her. “You do, but you’re being selfish. Would you really let your friend suffer for the sake of modesty? Take it off and help her.”
The blood in her veins froze; her heart seized painfully in her chest. He wanted her to strip in front of everyone. She looked over her shoulder at Jas, who was glaring daggers at all the men. Sage turned back to the leader and Rhys, meeting his gaze. They held a taunt and a dare. He might think to humiliate her, but she’d gone through worse things. If he wanted to punish her, so be it. She’d not cower.
Despite her resolve, her hands trembled and her cheeks burned as she began unbuttoning her shirt. Sage held her head high and locked her eyes on the leader. It was easier looking at him than the demon at his side.
The dirty linen slowly parted to reveal the half-corset she wore underneath. Her sleeves slipped down her arms, exposing her damp skin to the humid air. She peeled the soiled fabric from her wrists, one at a time, hung it over her bicep, and held her hands out, her body completely on display for the silent group of men gawking at her. “Anything else, my lord?”
Even though she tried to ignore the heavy stares of the surrounding men, she couldn’t help the goosebumps that broke out across her arms. That one piece
of linen was protection. It hid her curves from them; it was at least a barrier they would have to get through to get to her.
Or, at least, it had been.
The leader broke their stare-off and scanned her body, his brows pulling together. “So many scars.”
Sage kept silent and swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue. Her sarcasm was a way to protect herself. One more defense that the Scythians had stripped her of.
The leader crossed his arms and tipped his head, his raven braids sliding over his shoulder. “What happened to you?”
Surprise filled her. He didn’t know?
“I did,” Rhys boasted.
Stillness settled over the camp. The hair on her arms rose, and she shifted on her feet, wanting to hide from whatever was coming.
“You marred her?” the leader asked, his tone sharp as a blade.
“It was punishment.”
“That’s disgraceful,” a lanky warrior said, venom clear in his voice.
“Silence!” Rhys snarled, a promise of vengeance on his face. The warrior immediately shut his mouth and stared at the ground, no doubt pondering his future punishment.
Sage shivered and brushed at her filthy corset, needing to do something with her hands. “Woman…” Something about the leader’s voice scared her. He was not one to be trifled with.
She lifted her eyes and stared at his chest.
“You have your fabric. Go take care of the woman.”
Her spine stiffened at the command, but, as it gave her the chance to escape being the center of attention, she simply nodded. Turning her back to the leader and Rhys, ignoring the gazes of the surrounding men, she started to leave. Her steps faltered as the leader issued a command:
“The prior rule stands. If you touch her or the other woman, your life is a forfeit.”
Picking up speed, she reached Jas just as her legs gave out. As she fell to her knees beside her friend, every muscle in her body hurt. She studiously kept her eyes from Jasmine’s face.
“I’m so sorry, Sage.”
“Me, too,” she whispered as she tore long strips from her shirt. Tears blurred her eyes, turning her task into a watercolor of greens, browns, and creams. She hated crying; it made her feel weak. A small hand halted her jerky movements, causing her to look up. She blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the tears from her eyes.
Jasmine’s stormy gaze met hers. “Truly. If I could move right now, I’d go give them an earful.”
Sage scanned her face, noting the sincerity, but right behind it lurked fear. “I won’t let them do this to you. I’ll protect you.”
Her friend’s lips curled. “We’ll protect each other, sis.”
The casual use of ‘sis’ about knocked the wind out of Sage. Jas had just claimed her as family. For the first time in four days, warmth bloomed in her chest. She held her hand out, and Jas clasped it. “We’ll protect each other, sis.” She’d found a friend and an ally in the most unexpected place.
Dropping Jasmine’s hand, she plucked a strip of her shirt from the damp ground and said, “Hold still. This will hurt.”
Tehl
Destroy her.
It didn’t seem possible for anything to destroy Sage. She conquered everything that came her way. But Lilja would never say something like that unless she meant it.
“We can’t know for sure that’s what he plans for her,” William offered.
Hayjen glanced at William, his expression grave. “We’ve seen this time and time again. Lilja’s not the only one to have had such an experience. You should be afraid for the consort.”
The gravity of the situation settled heavily over the group.
“Then what do we do? We can’t leave her there,” Gav barked.
“But what can we do?” Zachael asked. “If we cross the border, it will mean war. We have no idea what is on the other side of that wall. We cannot take them on.”
“What about a small rescue team?” Lelbiel offered.
“I have sent some of my best spies over that wall. None have come back. None. We would send the men to their grave.”
“So…what?” Rafe snarled. “We leave Sage to die? To be used as a broodmare of their young? I’ll not do it! She’s been hurt enough to last many lifetimes. I won’t let her live in that hell where she’ll be raped until she dies.”
Tehl felt the same way. Their gazes met and understanding passed between them. For the first time since they’d met, they agreed on something. “I’ll not leave my wife there.”
“So, what do you propose? You can’t go traipsing through the jungle to retrieve her. Aermia needs you here.”
He glared at his brother. “You don’t think I know that?” His swept the men with his glare. “You’re all aware of how Sage came to become my wife. I did my duty, and so did she. I will honor my duty to Aermia, but I also have a duty to Sage, not only because she’s my consort, but my friend.”
“What about a treaty?” Jeren suggested.
“What?” William gasped. “You want to make a treaty with those monsters? They deserve to rot where they are.”
“No, listen…” Jeren leaned forward in his chair. “Scythia has been preparing for something for a long time. Presumably to invade Aermia. But what if we threw them off balance by offering a peace treaty? Scythia has been excluded from other kingdoms for hundreds of years, and we have what they need. Women.”
“Clever,” Lilja mused. “But the warlord would see right through that. He’s cunning, ruthless, and arrogant. He would see the treaty for what it was, a final attempt to keep them from invading our kingdom. He’d strike before you had a chance to rally your men, but his weakness is arrogance.”
“So, we use that,” Sam proposed. “We don’t want them anywhere near Aermia, but if the warlord is as arrogant as Lilja claims, he’ll want to meet. If only to flaunt his army and Sage in front of us.”
“That’s a huge risk to take,” Tehl said, then glanced to Lilja. “Would that work? Would he fall for it?”
The captain pursed her lips before speaking, “He would suspect a trap, but it would be an enticing lure that he’d likely engage. The warlord would meet with you, but no doubt have his army at hand.”
“We’d need to have ours ready,” Zachael remarked.
“How much time would that take?” Tehl asked.
“We could be ready in four months.”
“Make it two,” Tehl commanded. “Every moment we linger here is another moment the princess suffers in Scythia.” He turned back to Lilja. “Would the warlord bring her to the negotiations?”
A bitter smile graced Lilja’s face. “He wouldn’t miss the chance to bait you. He’ll bring her, but you won’t be able to rescue her.”
Silence filled the room.
“Why?”
“You don’t understand the enemy you’ll be engaging. The warlord is not like you or me. He has plans, and then plans to cover those plans, and plans to cover those plans. He would never leave Sage open. She’ll be so heavily guarded, you won’t be able to breathe in her direction without a blade to your throat.”
“Then, why the ruse?” William asked. “The whole point is to retrieve Sage.”
Understanding dawned. “Because we’ll coax him out into the open. For the first time in years, he’ll be out of his fortress. He’ll be vulnerable. Vulnerability means mistakes.”
“We will never be able to get to her if she’s locked away. We may not be able to get to Sage at the negotiations, but afterward…” Lilja eyes held a predatory gleam, “she’ll be coming home.”
Tehl fought a shiver at the bloodthirsty expression on the captain’s face. Once again, he was happy she was on their side. She’d make a formidable enemy.
“So, we plan an assault for after the negotiations?” Sam asked, a faraway look in his eyes.
“Yes, but we also plan for one before and during,” Rafe interjected. “If he’s as brilliant as Lilja says, we need to have a backup plan and expect the unexpected.”
<
br /> “Indeed…” a deep voice said from behind Tehl.
The men around the table stilled, and then, in a flurry of movement, all stood and bowed. A heavy hand landed on Tehl’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. “Always expect those who act treacherously to be treacherous.”
Tehl peered up at his father, shocked at his presence. It had been years since his father visited the war room. “My king,” he said respectfully, and began to stand. The hand on his shoulder tightened and pushed him back down into the chair.
“This seat is yours, Tehl,” his father murmured. “I won’t take it from you. You have earned it.”
He blinked as he sank back into his chair, sifting through his emotions: pride, dread, and relief—mostly relief. It was reassuring to have his father by his side. Gav stood from his chair and pushed it over to the king. Tehl’s father smiled and patted Gavriel on the back before sitting. His white-blond eyebrows lowered over his blue eyes as he took in the group.
“So, what is being done to get my daughter back?”
There was a beat of silence before Sam, Zachael, and Jeren began explaining their plan. Tehl sat back in his chair and watched his father as the plan was laid out before him. The king rubbed at his chin after the explanation finished. He let out a long sigh. “Two months? That’s the best we can do?”
Zachael’s face screwed up. “I wish we could get our men together sooner, but we’ll have to collect the Guard from all over Aermia, gather weapons and supplies.” The combat master shook his head. “That will take time.”
“I understand. Thank you, Zachael, for your service.” The king scanned the group once more. “Thank you. You’ve all been fine advisors to my son. Those of you who are new, welcome.”
It still awed Tehl how his father could command people and bolster them. He smiled at the king, then addressed the group: “Start planning our assault. I would like to go over it tomorrow afternoon. Thank you, and good day.”
At his dismissal, his advisors began to remove themselves from the room.