by Frost Kay
“I’m afraid my stomach is unsettled, my lord.”
“Wild one, why didn’t you tell me?” The warlord sat forward, a flicker of concern on his face.
Wild one? Anger heated his gut. The warlord had a pet name for his wife? That didn’t bode well.
“It’s nothing,” Sage murmured.
The warlord scanned his plate and plucked up a little yellow fruit and held it out to her. “Here, this will help.”
Tehl expected her to take the fruit from the warlord, but the air in his lungs froze when she scooted closer and ate the fruit from his hand. From the corner of his eye, he caught Gav gawking for only a moment before he recovered. The warlord smiled, brushed her lip with his thumb, and caught a drop of juice. Tehl watched as the Scythian leader sucked it into his own mouth. The move was blatantly sexual, and completely inappropriate. His hands clenched into fists under the table.
The warlord’s obsidian gaze wandered from Sage to Tehl, a small smirk on his smug face, like he knew what the crown prince was thinking. Sage’s small hand slid over Tehl’s and squeezed once before retreating. He kept his expression schooled into something polite. Sage continued to eat like nothing had happened, so he followed her cue.
He sipped his savory pumpkin soup while scanning the table. It was ridiculous. The entire group, Aermians and Scythians alike, was silent, each pretending they weren’t all sneaking glances at the other. The dislike and mistrust were evident with each glare or false smile. He met Gav’s purple gaze before dropping his eyes back to his soup. No one wanted to be here, including himself.
“Is the soup to your liking?” a deep voice rumbled.
He glanced at the warlord. “It’s delicious.”
“Not a man of many words, are you?”
Tehl leaned back into his chair and cocked his head. “I’ve found that people like to dance around a problem with too many fine words and end up accomplishing nothing. I hate wasting time. Why not say what you mean the first time?”
“Why not, indeed?” The warlord swirled his wine in his goblet and dipped his chin. “I, too, believe in being straightforward and honest. So, I’ll say this…” His dark gaze intensified. “I desire peace. My people deserve more than being punished for the sins of their ancestors, but prejudices long ingrained are hard to remove. This won’t be easy, but I believe it possible.”
Tehl regarded him thoughtfully. His words didn’t seem false, but that made him wary. The best lies were ones rooted in truth. He turned to Sage, who was listening intently, but had remained silent. “And what of you, Sage? What do you think? You’ve lived with both our peoples.”
She twisted and stared him dead in the eye. “Peace is always possible. It just depends on how much one desires it.”
“A wise observation, my lady,” Zachael murmured, pulling her attention. “May I also say you’re looking well.”
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.
“Your presence in the ring has been missed.”
“The ring?” the warlord asked.
“It’s where we train,” Sage explained.
Zachael smiled, faint wrinkles creasing around his mouth. “She’s a tough opponent. Our men nursed battle wounds and wounded pride daily.”
“What a fierce little consort,” the warlord said.
Sage stiffened.
Tehl frowned. Nothing the warlord said was offensive that he could note, so why was she upset?
His heart beat a little faster as Sage pushed back from her chair and stood. Tehl was on his feet, along with all the other men out of respect. She curtseyed to the table and caught his eye just for a second before she turned to the warlord.
“I find myself fatigued. I must beg your forgiveness for my early departure.”
The warlord plucked her hand from the table and kissed the back of it, lingering far too long. “As you wish, wild one.”
Sage pulled her hand from his grasp and glided away from the table without a backward glance.
His fingers clenched around his fork.
What had the warlord done to his wife?
Sage
She huffed out a breath as she exited the dining room, Nali quick on her heels. Four warriors materialized from the dark, surrounding her and leading her back to her prison. The tension in her body increased as they wound their way through the abandoned palace. Tehl kissing the back of her hand flashed through her mind. He looked every bit as handsome as she remembered, and his eyes just as kind. Heat built behind her eyes. Little did he know what a traitor she was…what an adulteress.
The pressure built in her chest, and Sage grasped at every last thread of strength she had. She wouldn’t cry in front of these men. They’d report it to Zane, and that was the last thing she needed. All she had to do was make it back to the room. There, she could release her feelings.
The warriors led her around a corner, and the double doors to her room became visible. It was both a relief and pain to see them. Sage ignored the warrior who opened the door and moved into the dim room. The door slammed behind her, and the sound seemed to echo, although it was probably just in her broken mind. Her shoulders hunched forward, and soundless sobs burst out. She stumbled toward a chair and gripped the back of it.
It killed her to ignore her friends and family. Tears dripped down her face, remembering the smile Zachael gave her. The weapons master was like family to her, and while the situation couldn’t be worse, she was grateful to see him.
Her hands tightened when she thought of how Lilja had stared. The woman attracted attention everywhere she went, but tonight she’d dressed somberly, her hair covered, and her eye color changed. Fear had gripped Sage when she’d spotted her Sirenidae friend. If the warlord figured out what she was, there was no telling what he’d do.
The pain in her chest increased as she reflected on Tehl’s expression when the warlord had made her eat from his hand. Shame and humiliation scorched her cheeks and her hands shook. The entire dinner had been a farce, a test to see if she could be trusted to play her role when the talks began on the morrow. It was sick and demented, just like him. Rage flowed freely through her veins, and a giant crash had her blinking. She stared at her outstretched hand to the vase that had shattered into a million tiny pieces at her feet. When had she picked that up?
The bedroom door slammed open, and Sage spun to face the warriors bearing down on her. Nali released a hair-raising growl and loped to her side, making the warriors halt. They eyed the mess and the man-eater. One brave warrior edged closer and placed a gentle hand on her arm, pulling her away from the broken vase.
“I dropped it,” she said.
He stared at her for a moment, disbelief on his face. He obviously didn’t believe her lie for one second. She hissed an angry breath when he brushed his hand along her legs, and then her arms.
“I’m not hurt,” she said.
“I’m following my commands, my lady.” He finished his search, satisfied, and jerked his chin toward the other men. As quickly as they entered, they exited, leaving her behind with only her regret, the black feline, and a broken vase for company.
A shiver worked through her body as a cool breeze blew into the room. She snagged the blanket off the bed and threw it over her shoulders before moving out to the balcony. The black beast pressed into her side, and Sage laid a hand on her head, gazing at the night sky. Bright stars twinkled like gems on velvet. A shuddering breath escaped her when she caught sight of fires burning in the distance.
The Guard. Aermian soldiers.
So close, but so far away. It was cruel, really, to see her escape and not be able to attain it. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours that she stood gazing out into the dark.
A warm chest pressed to her back; muscular arms wrapped around her, fingers digging into the blanket and her hips.
“Are you going to stand out here all night?” the warlord’s deep voice whispered in her ear.
It was unfair how musical his voice was. It could co
rrupt the most prudish maiden. He was the devil, plain and simple.
He took her hand and tsked. “Your hands are as cold as ice. Come warm them by the fire.”
She allowed him to pull her from her sanctuary—one last glance at the encampment. Even though escape was improbable, the Aermians’ presence still comforted her, inspiring hope.
The warlord drew her to the fire, where Nali had curled up for the night. Sage sat on a low bench in front of the heat, still cocooned in her blanket. The flames hopped from one side to another in a happy dance of orange, yellow, and red. Her skin prickled, and she pulled the blanket tighter, trying to ignore the huge man studying her.
“You did well tonight.”
Sage jerked and craned her neck to meet his eyes. “I did nothing tonight.”
“Precisely. You played your part remarkably. You should’ve seen the expressions of the Aermian delegation when you ate from my hand.” An amused chuckle rumbled out of him. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she muttered. She tensed and dropped her gaze to the swirling rug beneath her feet, wishing she could take back what she had said. Her words were careless. Careless words killed people.
The warlord sank to his haunches and lifted her chin. Bravely, she met his gaze, not flinching at the way he scrutinized her face. One finger traced her eyebrow, then down her temple and cheek.
“I suppose not, consort,” he rumbled, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a kiss so gentle it made her feel like weeping. “Some days, I feel like I could forget the past,” he said, his words whispering across her skin.
What past? It threw her when he let her glimpse his softer side every so often. It was just enough to make her second-guess herself and look for something good.
He held his hand out. “Let’s go to bed, love. Tomorrow marks the beginning of our future.”
Trepidation filled her as she once again followed him to the bed. When she got to its edge, she stared at it like it might bite. Each night went this way. She feared what might happen in that bed, but soon the fear gave way to exhaustion, and she’d find herself wrapped up in Zane’s arms come morning. With a huff, she flung the cover off her back and tossed it onto the bed. Sage crawled into the bed and turned onto her side to watch the warlord strip off his boots and shirt. It made her feel like a lecher, but she’d rather stare at him while he undressed than turn her back to him. No use in making herself more vulnerable than she already was.
He caught her eye as he shrugged his shirt off, the moonlight highlighting his muscles, which rippled with his every move. Despite everything that had occurred, he was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. He crawled into bed and scooted closer, never losing eye contact, and placed his hand in the curve of her waist.
She glanced down at his arm and shivered, pulling the cover tighter, unsettled that the heat from his hand burned through the fabric and seemed to imprint itself on her skin like it belonged there.
“Wild one?”
Sage peeked up at him from underneath her lashes. “Yes?”
“You touched him tonight.”
Licking her lips, she attempted to calm herself. His tone might have been casual, but it was anything but. It was the calm before the storm.
“It wasn’t anything.”
“The way he looked at you wasn’t just anything, consort.”
“Do you want peace?”
Her question must have startled him, because his intense expression melted into confusion.
“Have I not made that clear?”
“I was securing peace.”
His gaze shuttered. “Is that what you think you were doing?”
“I know him,” she said, avoiding using Tehl’s name. “Your display upset him. I didn’t want the peace accord to be destroyed before it had a chance to succeed.” Sage meant every word. Her people didn’t understand the kind of creatures they were dealing with. ‘Deadly’ was the word that came to mind.
His expression was unreadable as he lay there staring at her, searching for something. He must have found it, because he smiled at her and brushed her hair from her cheek.
“I believe you, Sage.”
A breath she didn’t know she was holding leaked out of her.
He hitched his arm around her, pulled her against his chest, and rolled onto his back. She stiffly held herself against his side, her ear over his heart. Sage hated him in that moment, because he was so human. His heart thumped in his chest just like hers, steady and calm, the calm she craved when everything was so messed up and confused.
“Sleep, wild one.”
Almost against her will, her body softened and her eyelids grew heavy. But she wouldn’t fall asleep until he answered the question that had been plaguing her since he pointed out the Aermian camp in the distance. “Zane?”
“Yes, love?”
“Will you harm my people?”
Silence.
She lifted her head and met his dark gaze. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek.
“As long as they don’t harm me or mine, I’ll leave them unharmed. I want to make the kingdoms a better place.”
By what means? she wanted to ask, but instead she whispered, “Do you promise?”
“You have my word, consort, and you know I keep my word.” His heated eyes bore into hers, making it clear what he was speaking of. He hadn’t taken her yet. He’d kept his promises, all of them, even the one she didn’t want to remember.
“Thank you.” She placed a hand on his heart and leaned closer to brush a kiss along his cheek. The small intake of his breath clued her into something she hadn’t expected. She affected him, but it was more than lust, more than his insane need to control her.
A small part of him might care for her.
Sage pulled back and curled up by his side. The thought startled her and gave her a little seed of hope. Somewhere, deep down inside him, he had good qualities. No one could be completely bad. But she wasn’t his salvation, a way to fix his wrongs in the past. Without him knowing it, he’d just given her the key she’d need. It was a dangerous risk to take, appealing to his heart, but if it succeeded, it might mean her freedom.
His hand curled around hers, and his lips pressed to the top of her head.
Freedom. She dreamed of freedom.
The morning came too fast, and before she knew it, she was standing before a mirror dressed like a queen. She grimaced at her reflection. With its rich red silk and black fur, her dress screamed Scythian royalty. Her gaze slid to the warlord buttoning his black vest over a black silk shirt. It shouldn’t have surprised her; black seemed to be his signature color.
As if feeling her gaze, his almond-shaped eyes peered up at her from impossibly thick eyelashes. “Yes, wild one?”
She shook her head and turned back to her own outfit, her eyes snagging on the collar around her neck. Anger buzzed in her veins. It wasn’t right that something so beautiful could represent something so disgusting.
“Something wrong?”
Sage wiped the look from her face as the warlord sidled up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She wanted to test her theory, but baiting him before the peace talks wasn’t beneficial for anyone. “No.” She shook her head. “Just tired.”
He squeezed her shoulder and squinted at her head. A smile pulled one side of his mouth up. “Well, your hair is wide awake,” he commented wryly as he brushed down a stray hair.
The moment was surreal. It was times like these that confused Sage. They were so mundane, so human. It scared her how easy it would be to stop fighting, to let go, to let the warlord devour her. He’d been her friend at one time. He could be that again if she let go.
He placed a quick kiss on her thorn collar. “This looks so beautiful against your skin.”
Her heart fell. And that’s why she would never comply. When he let his human side out, it was brief and beautiful, like a shooting star, but the darkness that raged after it was brutal.
&
nbsp; He straightened and held an arm out. “Are you ready to change history?”
Sage nodded and ignored her sour stomach. What sort of changes was he planning?
Tables and chairs had been placed in a loose square, while unshuttered windows allowed the mountain breeze to pass through a ballroom. It didn’t escape her notice that she didn’t quite sit in the middle of the group as the position of mediator dictated. Her chair was slightly to the left, closer to the Scythian side.
The Aermian delegates, the Scythian delegates, and leads were given seats, their places marked with nameplates of onyx inlaid with silver. Pitchers of water, juice, and ale were at all the tables. Scythian scribes she’d never seen before sat on lush pillows against the wall, ready to take notes, while the Aermian scribes sat at a table behind the crown prince.
She scanned the Scythian side, only knowing three of the nine delegates: the warlord, Maeve, and Blair.
Her heart squeezed as she twisted to the right and stared at all the familiar faces. Zachael, Gav, Tehl, Sam, Hayjen, Lilja, William, and Jeren. Even the stodgy Jeren was a welcome sight. But it was the man with golden eyes and wine-colored hair that pulled her attention. Rafe sat watching her, his face blank, but in his eyes, she detected a familiar look.
Sage smiled inwardly. The warlord was a master tactician, but he’d never met Rafe. If there was a way to escape, he’d figure it out. She scanned the group once more and moved back to the man she’d skipped. His dark blue gaze nearly knocked the wind from her lungs. He was more beautiful than the phantom her imagination had conjured.
“Good morning, wife,” Tehl murmured softly.
She swallowed hard, ignoring how the warlord stilled at the crown prince’s soft-spoken words. “Good morning, my lord. I trust you slept well?” she said, her tone polite, nothing more.
“I did. The accommodations were excellent, thank you.”
She nodded and tore herself from his intense gaze only to be ensnared by the warlord’s. He looked cool and collected, but Sage saw something different. She saw rage brewing beneath the surface, one she didn’t know if she could survive a second time. He looked to Tehl and then shot her a look; she blinked. Had that been hurt in his eyes? What was he thinking? She tore her gaze from the warlord and pushed aside her thoughts. She had a duty to do.