by Frost Kay
“Life’s never been fair, consort.”
“True, you and I both know that.” As much as she loathed to admit it, they had something in common. They were survivors. She pushed his hand down and dug deep for her bravery. Slowly, she rolled up onto her knees, so they were at the same eye-level, and cupped both his cheeks. “I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered,” she whispered. “Truly, I am, but that doesn’t condone what you’ve done.” He began pulling away from her, but she tightened her hold and lied. “But I will help you change.”
“Change is impossible for me.”
She agreed. But she said, “Change is never impossible. And I will help you.”
He pulled her hands from his face and rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone. “Wild one, you may look like her, but you are nothing like her. She was sick and selfish. You are honorable and kind.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll call for Maeve and have her see to your wounds.”
Sage nodded, trying not to puke. As soon as he closed the door, she ran for the railing and released all the contents of her belly. Tears streamed down her face. How could everything go so wrong? A knock had her swiping at her tears and turning to the door.
Maeve opened the door and paused when she caught sight of her. She carefully closed the door and strode to the balcony, carrying a basket. Her cinnamon gaze swept across Sage’s face and neck, and her lips pulled down. “Come with me, child.”
Sage followed Maeve back into the room, all her emotions raw.
Maeve pulled her to a chair and knelt before her.
She swallowed hard and turned to stare at the fire as the Scythian woman cleaned her wounds.
“Where else does it hurt?”
She pointed to her hips. “He grabbed me.”
Maeve brushed aside the robe and hissed.
Sage glanced down at the angry purple bruises already forming.
“What did you do?” Maeve muttered.
“What did I do?” she hissed. “This is clearly your brother’s doing.”
“Well, you must have set him off.”
“Because I look like your mother?”
Maeve jerked. “What?”
“You heard me,” Sage whispered. “How can you want your daughter to return to this? How?”
“I can protect her here.”
“Can you?” She stared straight into Maeve’s eyes. “Can you protect Blaise from him?”
Silence.
“He’s more dangerous to her than anything else she could possibly encounter.”
“What do you expect me to do? Leave her as a prisoner in Aermia?”
“No.” Sage clasped the woman’s hands. “I will protect her. I could keep her away from here, keep her safe.”
Maeve scoffed. “You can’t even protect yourself.”
“If you help Jasmine, Blaise, and I escape, I can.”
Time seemed to stand still as the Scythian woman stared at her, thinking. After a moment, she glanced at the door and then back to Sage. “You want me to betray him, then?”
“I’ve seen the emotions you keep hidden from him. Don’t lie to yourself or to me. He may be your blood, but we both know he’s more a monster than a man, a murderer.”
Maeve pulled in a breath and squeezed Sage’s hand, something shifting in her eyes. Sage didn’t know how she hadn’t before noted the ancient wisdom in the woman’s eyes. “Can you promise me you will do everything in your power to keep my daughter from here? And to keep her safe with you, wherever you go?”
“I will,” Sage vowed.
“Then I will retrieve your friend and Blaise…and I will help you escape. I can’t promise you will live, but you won’t die by his hand, and you’ll be free.”
Hope fluttered in her chest for the first time in a long time. Sage leaned forward and kissed both of Maeve’s cheeks.
The Scythian woman stood and smiled down at Sage. “Thank you.”
She grabbed Maeve’s hand before she left. “Will you be okay?”
Maeve’s smile turned dark. “Zane’s not the only one who’s been around a long time. Don’t worry about me, child. All will be well. Prepare yourself, for the journey will be both difficult and dangerous.”
She stood and strode to the balcony, filled with nervous energy as she anticipated what was to come. Gazing at the fires of the army burning in the distance, she took a calming breath. Soon.
Soon, she’d escape this hell.
Soon, she’d be home.
And soon, she’d be hunted by an ancient master hunter.
Soon couldn’t come fast enough.
Tehl
Tehl swirled the pungent amber liquid in his cup, mulling over the day’s events. It had gone smoother than expected. Part of him wondered if the warlord really did want peace, though. The talks seemed legitimate, but then again, it could have been well-orchestrated play-acting to cover the warlord’s true agenda.
He threw back the contents of his drink, his eyes watering as the spirits burned the back of his throat and warmed his belly. Dinner had been another horrid affair, both groups merely staring at each other, occasional whispers echoing in the giant room. More upsetting than their people’s inability to communicate was the empty seat beside him.
In the past, it had been difficult to control his emotions, but manageable. But when Sage didn’t show up for dinner, he had to employ every trick he knew to keep his feelings locked away. Panic was the first one to grab hold of him, then helplessness. Luckily, Gavriel had asked after Sage, leaving Tehl time to compose himself and pulling the warlord’s attention elsewhere.
He frowned into his empty glass. Even when the Scythian leader wasn’t watching him directly, the warlord seemed very aware of everything Tehl did. What almost tipped him over the edge wasn’t the fact that Sage didn’t come to dinner, but the way the enemy referred to his wife. It was intimate, and Tehl hated it, hated how he didn’t know if it was the truth or simply a means by which to manipulate him. His hand tightened on the cup. It was probably both.
Tehl glanced over his shoulder as Sam entered his room, shutting the door only to fall heavily against it, his shoulders slumped.
“Sam?” Lilja called, rising from her perch on the divan.
“Music,” Sam whispered. “I need music.”
Tehl turned and placed his cup on the table near the fire. “Why? What for?”
His brother lifted his head, devastation clear on his face. “I need it.”
Short. No explanation.
“Hayjen?”
The tall man met his wife’s gaze, disappeared into the adjoining room, and reappeared with a fiddle. He lifted his bow and began to play a haunting tune that rose the hair on Tehl’s arms.
Lilja eyed Sam. “Now speak.”
Sam dragged a hand over his face and pushed from the door. His stride was clipped as he approached the silent group of people lounging around the room. “We have a serious problem.”
That got Tehl’s attention; Sam must have needed music to prevent their conversation from being overheard. “What is it?” he asked in a low voice.
His brother opened his mouth and then closed it, shooting a glare at the door behind him. Sam strode to a desk situated in the corner and poured whiskey into a cup. He tossed it back and then pulled in a deep breath before speaking. “She refused.”
It was only two words, but they knocked the wind from Tehl’s lungs.
Hayjen missed a note, but quickly continued playing.
“Why?” Zachael breathed, devastation clear on his face.
“I don’t know. I—” Sam shook his head. “Why would she do this?”
“Did she give you any hints?”
“Nothing.” Sam cursed and kicked at a log. “Absolutely nothing.”
“She’s been with the warlord for months,” Lilja murmured, almost hesitant. “She could be under his influence somehow.”
“That’s nonsense,” William retorted. “She seems not the kind of person to be unduly influenced.”
>
“That’s the problem, though,” Rafe rumbled. “It’s not always something one can control.”
“How did she act with you?” Lilja asked.
Sam tugged at his hair. “She attacked me.” A goofy smile flittered across his face and disappeared. “To be fair, I did sneak up on her when she was in bed. But when she recognized me, she embraced me. I saw Sage, or a glimmer of her, before she locked her old self away and then disappeared.” Sam’s fingers curled into a fist, his arms shaking. “She…she told me that she owed the warlord everything, and that he was using her as much as…” His brother hesitated. “As much as the rebellion and Crown.”
He froze. She thought he was using her? She compared him to the Scythian warlord? Tehl clenched his hands, trying to ward off the pain those words caused him. Something wasn’t right. Sage could be reasoned with despite her emotions. Those words weren’t reasonable at all. They were nonsense.
Hayjen played straight into another song, his fingers flying over the strings.
“That’s not what Sage believes,” Lilja reasoned. “I know, because we’ve talked about it. Those words aren’t her own; they have to be someone else’s.” She shot a glance at her husband. “Hayjen and I have rescued girls who have been inflicted with this type of torture. They’re manipulated into believing things that make no sense at all. It seems crazy to us, but seems absolutely real to them.”
Jeren stepped closer, his head bowed. “So, you’re telling me that our consort has been deceived by our enemy?”
Lilja nodded gravely.
Tehl’s advisor, Jeren, glanced around the room and held up his hands. “You all know that I have not hid my dislike for Sage, but in the time she was with us, she changed things for the better. It’s with a heavy heart that I say this, but someone needs to.” He pulled in a deep breath, looking very old. “Sage is a wealth of information for both the Crown and rebellion. If the warlord has accomplished what you suspect, Captain Femi, then it is logical for us to examine those consequences.”
“No,” Gav growled.
Tehl met Jeren’s gaze. “You think she’s working with him. That she’s a traitor?” Tehl didn’t attack the man for the accusation. It was logical. If the warlord wanted information, Sage was his key.
Jeren glared around the room. “The crown prince believes me,” he uttered softly.
All eyes swung to Tehl. “It makes sense. Think of it. She’s the perfect piece for him to use in his game.”
“So, you’re naming her a traitor?” Zachael asked calmly.
“No,” Tehl glanced at Lilja. “I am just saying that he’s hurt and manipulated my wife. We don’t have any idea what information she may have unwittingly given him.”
“What a brilliant idea,” Sam hissed. “Even if she was able to reason through all his lies, her actions would be proof of treason. The warlord has created an intricate trap.” Sam’s brows slashed downward. “We’re still missing something. Sage was afraid.”
Sage never let anyone see her fear. That in itself was disturbing.
“What kind of fear?” Rafe questioned.
Sam squinted at the ornate ceiling. “Fear for me.” He dropped his chin down, blankly staring at the group. “She wasn’t afraid for herself. Sage was protecting me.”
“That sounds like my wife,” Tehl muttered. His brows furrowed when something tugged at the back of his mind. He blinked. The girl from the village. “Sam. The girl.” Sage would never leave the girl behind.
“What girl?”
“The girl from the village.”
“Of course,” Sam exploded. He glanced at the door and continued in a lower tone. “Sage would never leave anyone behind.”
“Do you think she’s protecting the girl and so not being manipulated?” Jeren asked.
“I’m sure he’s manipulated her, but if Jasmine is alive, Sage wouldn’t leave her behind. What better leverage for the warlord to have? Sage would probably risk her own life, but the life of a friend?”
“What do you suggest we do?” Rafe asked, watching Lilja.
The Sirenidae scanned the group as Hayjen’s song came to a crescendo. “We play our parts. We must be content to watch and wait for her signal.”
“And you believe there will be one? A signal, I mean?” Jeren asked.
“I would stake my life on it.”
“Then, we wait,” Tehl said.
“We wait,” Lilja echoed.
Sam
And they waited.
Five days passed in a flurry of pretty speeches, veiled threats, and reluctant compromises. Each day, he prayed that Sage would give them a signal: a look, a cue... anything really. But she didn’t. She sat at the end of the table, a ghost of her former self.
Sam glanced at his brother from his seat at the dining table. Tehl sat in his chair, sipping wine from a goblet, looking regal, as if the world were there only for his amusement. But Sam knew what lay beneath the surface of that façade. It was evident in his brother’s gaze resting on Sage, the tightness of the skin around his mouth whenever the warlord needled him, and how tightly he clenched his goblet. His brother was worried, angry, and dangerously close to losing his temper.
Sam sighed, lazily scanning the table. A pair of cinnamon eyes snagged his attention. They were perusing him with interest, so he cocked his head and smirked at her. The one called Maeve didn’t simper, flush in embarrassment, or look away. She simply held his gaze and raised a goblet of wine to him. That wasn’t something he experienced every day. For once, he felt like the prey, not the predator.
She broke their stare-off and whispered something in her daughter’s ear. Sam glanced between mother and daughter, discreetly observing them. Things rarely shocked him anymore, but seeing two women who looked like twins, but were mother and daughter was an eerie experience.
Maeve glanced at him from beneath her dark lashes, a sensual smile curling her lips.
“I’ll take my leave,” the warlord said as he stood. He held his hand out to Sage. “Consort, would you like an escort to your room?”
Sam schooled his expression as Sage placed her hand in the other man’s and swept out of the room with the Scythian.
Her room? Liar. The warlord didn’t let her out of his sight.
His gaze shifted to Tehl. His brother stared in the direction of the couple before tossing back the last of his wine emotionlessly. It seemed like his brother fractured a little further as each day passed. They didn’t have much time before Tehl broke and did something that got them all killed.
He turned back to Maeve as she daintily dabbed at her mouth and stood. She turned on her heel and sauntered out of the room. At the last second, she peered over her shoulder and met his gaze, winked, and disappeared from view.
Intriguing. She was flirting with him, but why? He swirled his wine and sniffed the fruity liquid while scanning the table. Both delegations were still watching each other apprehensively, though some of the tension had departed the room with the warlord. Sam caught the eye of Blaise and smiled widely, knowing his dimple was on display. It was a smile that always worked for him.
Her lips thinned as she bared her teeth.
Well, almost every time. Apparently, she still hadn’t forgiven him for his interrogations.
Sam pushed back from the table and bowed to Blaise in a courtly fashion, earning looks from many at the table. He strode from the room, keenly aware of the attention he drew. He kept smiling as he exited the room, keeping his stride lazy while examining the hallway with a sharp gaze. One never knew who was lurking about.
He sauntered past a curtained window when something grabbed the back of his vest and yanked him back. Sam pulled a dagger from his waist and spun, using the momentum. He blinked in shock as his dagger was plucked from his hand, and he was yanked into the dark and slammed against a stone wall. He tried to surge forward, but the body pressed against him held him in place.
“Calm down. I’m not going to kill you.”
A soft, flowery sce
nt curled around him in the dark space. A woman.
“I find I must warn you that I like being taken captive, my lady,” he purred as his mind scrambled for an explanation. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark space. A secret hallway. How unoriginal. Where did this one lead?
“I don’t doubt that, Prince.”
His eyes narrowed at the voice as he focused on the woman holding him, just able to make out the shape of her face. Maeve. “I’m flattered, but I must say that you have me at a—”
“Enough,” she whispered. “Time is short. Do you wish to take your princess home safely?”
Sam stilled, sensing a trap, and answered carefully. “We all wish for our loved ones to be safe.”
A small growl from below his chin. “We don’t have time for pretty words. Sage is in danger. If she doesn’t escape, he’ll kill her.”
His body tensed. “Why tell me this?”
“Because I’m going to help her escape our warlord and put his tyranny to an end.”
He forced a chuckle out while he ran through the possible reasons she’d really approached him. “That sounds an awful lot like treason, my lady. The Aermian delegation is here for peace. We’d never jeopardize our endeavors.”
Maeve scoffed and released her arm from his throat. “Please, we all know why you’re here, but you’ll not succeed.”
Sam almost reached for a blade, but thought better of it. The woman had been able to restrain him in seconds. Plus, he didn’t know if her superior eyesight included some form of enhanced night-vision. He straightened his vest. “This has been exciting, but I must be returning to my room. It’s been a long day that I’m sure we’ll repeat tomorrow.”
“She said you’d be difficult. I don’t expect you to trust me, but I do expect you to trust someone you’ve sworn yourself to.”
He stilled. “What do you mean?”
“She said to tell you that when you helped to arm her, you promised to support her even against your own blood; you became her brother in truth.”