by Frost Kay
Lilja observed his expression before answering. “Some myths are real, even the bloodier ones, but as a whole, Sirenidae are not killers.”
“You look so…” Tehl drew out, looking for the right word.
“Aermian?” she supplied.
“Normal.”
Sam sniggered. “That wasn’t rude…”
Heat crept into Tehl’s cheeks. “I meant that she looks like a woman.”
Lilja’s eyes filled with mirth. “Am I not a woman?”
“That’s not…” He heaved out a sigh and ran a hand through his inky locks. “I always imagined the Sirenidae as something akin to fish.”
There was a beat of silence before Lilja threw her head back and let loose a husky chuckle. “You have a way with words, my lord.”
He rubbed the back on his neck, embarrassed. “That’s what my family is always telling me.” He blinked, a thought occurring to him. “Does Sage know?”
“Yes,” Hayjen answered.
Tehl scoffed. “Of course she bloody well knew. Nothing escapes that woman.”
“She’s a smart one,” Sam muttered, plopping into a chair. “This is my question: how were they caught unaware?” Sam glanced at them. “Sorry for changing the subject, but I can’t figure it out. Garreth is one of the best Elite I know, and Sage, well, her sneaking and self-defense skills are excellent. How did Rhys surprise them?” Frustration tinged his brother’s voice.
Lilja propped a hip against the table. “I believe I can shed light on this as well. The Scythians are enemies like you’ve never faced before.”
“You’ve said that,” his father said. “What makes them so different? We vanquished them before.”
“That was before they were flawless.”
“They’ve always strived for perfection,” Gav reasoned.
“True, so are you saying now they’ve accomplished it?” Sam asked skeptically.
“Not in the truest sense, but in the ways that mattered most to them. Unparalleled beauty and an exceptional thinking ability are two.”
“Beauty is hardly dangerous,” Tehl said.
“It is when used the right way,” Sam said.
“Your brother’s right, but there are more deadly qualities. Enhanced hearing, increased speed, and inhuman strength.”
“That seems impossible,” said Gav.
Tehl glanced at his cousin. “So did the annihilation of the Nagalians, and the existence of the Sirenidae.”
Sam quirked a brow. “Are you so quick to believe in this madness? You who never believes in anything but logic?”
Tehl tipped his chin at Lilja. “She’s all the proof I need. Her story does not conflict with any of my knowledge. It makes sense the Scythians would be enhanced. They’ve had hundreds of years to do God-knows-what to their people.”
“How did they accomplish such a thing?” his father asked.
“Science.”
Tehl wrinkled his nose at Hayjen. “That’s dangerous.”
Lilja shrugged. “It’s only dangerous in how it’s used. They’ve discovered and manipulated different essences from their jungles, the ocean, and from the red caves of Nagali. If used the right way, the plants could heal many in the kingdoms.”
“I don’t want any of that here,” Tehl barked.
“That’s your prerogative as crown prince. But I would like to leave you with this thought: would you let your people suffer because of your own prejudice?”
He blinked. When she put it like that, it made him feel like the villain. “We’ve done just fine until now.”
Lilja cast a glance at his father and he followed her gaze. The king stared at the floor with his shoulders slumped.
“Have you?” Her question was soft.
Anger burned in his chest at her cruel question. “That was a low blow.”
“Everyone has lost someone, Tehl, especially those of us who have lived long lives.”
He met her gaze and saw understanding and loss there.
“Why let others suffer when you have the power to bring about change for the good? Change will happen, with or without you. Don’t you want to shape it into something great for your people?”
His gaze dropped to the floor as he mulled over what she said. Change for Aermia and for him had happened even if he didn’t want it to—his mum’s death, his father’s mental breakdown, picking up the pieces of the kingdom, and marrying Sage. Many unexpected things had befallen his family and himself, but it was because of their choices that things were still going well. He lifted his head and nodded.
“I will think on it.”
“That’s all I ask.” She clapped her hands together and pushed off the table. “How do you think your advisors will react to the news of the Scythians’ advancements?”
“Disbelief, anger, bloody panic, and a steeling of themselves for what is to come,” Sam drawled.
“Very astute for someone so young,” Lilja said. “No wonder Sage likes you. You’re very similar.”
“You hear that, Tehl? You married the female version of your brother,” Sam joked.
Tehl began to retort when Lilja cut him off. “You think you’re cloaked in shadows, Samuel Ramses. But just as Sage sees who you are, so do I. Just remember that playing so many roles can blur who we are, even to ourselves. If you wear too many masks, you may forget what you really look like.”
“Spoken like someone who knows something of it,” Sam replied, his tone serious.
Lilja strode toward Sam and clasped his hand in both of hers. “I’ve lived a long time in the dark, hiding who I am to protect the ones I love. I know something of it. You and I are more alike than you realize. Call on me for anything.”
Sam blinked and shifted a hair closer to Lilja. Tehl rolled his eyes, already knowing what was coming. His brother smiled seductively down at the woman.
“Call on you for anything?” he purred.
“Hey now,” Hayjen objected.
Lilja leaned closer to Sam. In a move meant to seduce, she ran her hand up his arm and to his cheek. “You’re out of your league,” she whispered, and then patted him on the cheek twice, hard enough to sting. She spun on her heel, wearing a grin that spoke of vindication, and sauntered back to her husband.
Tehl sniggered at how his brother cupped his cheek and stared after Lilja with both admiration and fear.
“Now that that’s over, how do you propose we move ahead with our plans, my lady?” his father asked.
The smile on Lilja’s face was positively devious. “We run circles around the Scythians.”
“How will we do that?” Gav jumped in.
“With the promise of women, of course.”
Six
Sage
Sweat dripped between her breasts as she struggled to place one foot in front of the other. Each breath was wet, like she was breathing water—the air seemed saturated, heavy.
She glanced to Jasmine. Her friend’s face pinched with every step. A curse burst out of the brunette’s mouth as she stumbled, her knees buckling. Sage reached out and caught her roughly, stumbling and almost going down herself. She strained and locked her knees, barely keeping them both upright.
“You’re slowing us down. Pick up your speed or I’ll drag you.”
Sage clenched her teeth and turned to glare at Rhys.
“He’s not worth it,” Jas wheezed in her ear. “Just help me, Sage.”
She swallowed back her rage and slid her bare arm around Jasmine’s back. “Can you still walk?”
“Yeah. It’s just my damn ribs. They hurt in the back, too.”
“You need more exercise,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
Blue-gray eyes narrowed on her. “You’re hobbling as much as I am.”
“It’s my bloody feet. There’s not much skin left.” And it was the truth. The soles of her feet were always soft from the rain, so they shredded and cut easily. Each evening, she attempted to clean the wounds and bandage them, but they were always caked with black
soil, so it was mostly futile.
She shivered as a drop of water splashed between her shoulder blades and ventured into her half-corset.
“He’s watching you again.”
Her jaw clenched. She didn’t even need to look to know who Jas was referring to. When she’d sat with Jasmine after his forced disrobing, Rhys’ eyes had locked on her like she was his prey. At that moment, she’d frozen as he glided across the camp toward her. Jasmine had shaken her out of her stupor, and she had stood to face the monster. His eyes had slowly traced the curves of her body. Sage had forced herself not to back away when he had leaned close to whisper, “Soon…”
It was only one word, but it was enough to keep her on edge for the next two days. She blinked, and the memory disappeared as Jasmine’s face swam into view. “I know.”
“You need to be careful.”
“I know, Jas,” she whispered harshly.
“Even if you have to beg protection from one of the other men, like the leader, do it.”
She scanned the circle of men surrounding them, pausing on the large roguish-looking warrior. He lifted his head and glanced her way as if he could hear their conversation. For all she knew, he could. Not looking away from him, Sage whispered, “They’re not our friends. They’re our enemies.”
“Yes, but some men are worse than others.”
“Indeed.”
Both women fell silent, as it took all their focus to keep painfully trudging on. Sage kept her eyes on the ground to avoid anything sharp that could damage her already severely abused feet even more. She suppressed a shriek when a spider the size of her fist scuttled across the forest floor. Jasmine wasn’t so discreet.
“Swamp apples!” she hissed in disgust. “That’s nasty.”
Sage tuned her friend’s grumbling out while scanning the surrounding jungle. Her brows slammed together. Something wasn’t quite right. The trees were duller, and the ground had begun to slant downward. The soil between her toes even felt different, scratchier. She dropped her chin, her wet hair flopping limply into her face. With care, she examined the surrounding men. The warriors still walked with a purpose, but something in their stance had changed. She scrutinized it for a moment before deciphering what it was.
Excitement. There was a spring to their step now. Her stomach dropped. What were they excited for?
Her gaze swept the jungle again, searching for the source of their excitement. She blinked. Somehow, she’d missed that somewhere along the line, trees had been thinning. A large, dark hill rose just a stone’s throw away. Whatever excited them rested on the other side of that hill.
“What is it?” Jasmine murmured.
“What?” she asked absently, still trying to figure out where the men were taking them.
“Your arm tensed, and you squeezed my ribs.”
Immediately she loosened her grip and glanced at her friend, holding her panic at bay. “Whatever is over that knoll is the end for us.”
Jas squinted at the dark hill, little lines appearing on her forehead, before she turned back to Sage. “Once we enter where they are taking us, there won’t be any escape.”
“No,” she agreed.
“Then you need to escape now,” Jasmine said, only loud enough for her ears.
She jerked. “I’m not leaving you.”
The brunette’s jaw set. “I can’t run. I can barely walk. You can make it, Sage. You have to try. For the both of us.”
Everything inside her ached to just run, to escape. Her hand opened and closed against Jasmine’s back. “I can’t leave you.” Guilt threatened to swamp her at the angry expression on her friend’s bruised face. “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”
“That’s not true,” Jas whispered harshly. “I would have tried to help anyone. It just happened to be you. I should have checked the forest better. I wasn’t cautious enough. That’s on me. Now run. I’ll distract them.”
Her gaze darted around as she debated the outcome. Could she make it? The answer slapped her in the face as her eyes connected with Rhys. “No,” she said, tearing her eyes away from him and back to Jas. “Even if I could escape the warriors, I would still have to get through a week of jungle without food, water, and a direction in which to run. Not to mention the deadly creatures the warriors had to battle back there. The black felines are still hunting us. I wouldn’t make it. I’d be dead by morning.”
Jasmine visibly wilted. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking.”
“You weren’t thinking.”
They both stiffened at the deep, accented voice behind them. Sage craned her neck and was met by feathers and coal black hair. The leader.
“You’re wise not to run. You wouldn’t survive in our jungle. Now put all childish dreams of escape and freedom from your mind.”
“Freedom is childish?” she questioned. “I thought your people would appreciate—” Pain slammed into her face, causing her to lose her balance and topple Jasmine. She crashed to the ground, the wind knocked from her. Rolling to her hands and knees, she swayed, trying to see past all the stars swirling across her vision. A metallic tang invaded her mouth. Someone had made her bleed. Again. If it was the last thing she’d do, she’d—
Sage jolted out of her thoughts at Jasmine’s cry. Her gaze cut to Jas, lying flat on her back and clutching her ribs while a boot rested on them. Sage looked up and glared at Rhys. Her vision turned red and all she could see was him and his smug face.
Enough was enough. It was time for him to die.
“Rhys! You’ve had your fun,” the leader admonished.
Sage’s hand ran along the forest floor, seeking a weapon. Anything to protect herself and Jasmine. A grim smile tugged at her lips as her fingers closed around a sharp rock. That would do. Slowly, she shuffled closer.
“They need to be punished for plotting an escape,” Rhys said.
“They were speaking nonsense.”
“I think you’ve grown soft in your old age. The men see it. You’ve been soft on these girls. Do you think they’ll be handed to you for your obedience?”
She froze at the beat of silence, taking the utmost care not to attract attention.
“The warlord will grant you nothing,” said Rhys. “You are nothing.”
“Those are large words from a flawed.”
The forest seemed to still at the leader’s words. Sage watched Rhys through the curtain of her hair, his face turning almost purple. His fists clenched, and his arms began to shake. She closed her eyes, pulled in a deep steadying breath, and prepared herself. A large hand rested on the top of her head, causing her eyes to fly open. Boots she’d become familiar with stood right in front of her. She hadn’t even heard Rhys move.
Sage obeyed the tug on her hair as she was forced to meet his cruel, soulless gaze. “This is how you should always be. On your knees.”
That was it. She couldn’t move because of the hand in her hair, but she still had use of her hands. Clutching her rock, she licked her bloody lips, knowing he’d follow the motion, and slammed the pointy rock into the side of his knee. His eyes widened, and his mouth parted in a bellow right before she received a kick to the gut. She flew backward, her breath rushing out of her. Her shoulders slammed into the ground, and her feet tumbled over her head.
She coughed, trying to get air into her screaming lungs as she brushed her hair from her face. Pain was everywhere. Sage pushed up from the ground and grimaced as a large hand snaked around her waist and pulled her from the forest floor. Rhys struggled with three warriors, trying to get to her. She bared her bloody teeth at him in a smug smile.
He strained harder against the arms restraining him, the veins in his neck bulging. “You’re dead! I’ll kill you! You’re dead,” he screamed.
A crazed laugh bubbled up from her belly. “I died in that cell. There’s nothing left to kill.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the leader muttered next to her ear. “Look at what you’ve wrought.”
Sag
e’s smile faded as she truly looked at Rhys. His whole body shuddered, and it was almost as if he had grown in size. Something had shifted in his eyes. She slammed into the hard chest behind her when his bloodshot, feral eyes clashed into her own. The rage-filled man she’d come to know was nothing like the wild beast in front of her now.
His teeth gnashed, spittle flying through the air as he bellowed, “Mark my words, you’ll pay.”
One of the warriors pushed a flask against his mouth and another pinched his nose. He fought harder, spewing the brew everywhere. Sage watched in horror as liquid and drool dripped down his chin, and he mouthed, “You’re mine.”
She trembled in the leader’s arms for a few minutes as the wild glint in Rhys’ eyes died and his usual soulless gaze returned. He growled at the men and jerked his arms from their grasp. Rhys shook himself and sneered in her direction, before limping to his horse and swinging up into the saddle like nothing happened.
“Let’s go,” he commanded, like he wasn’t losing blood each second.
She turned her face and leaned her cheek against the warm chest behind her, shuddering. What was he?
“I warned you not to push him.”
“Not well enough,” she pushed out between chattering teeth. They always did that when she became scared or excited. “What was that?”
“Berserker rage. If those men had not held him back, he would’ve torn you apart, woman. I keep thinking you’ve learned your lesson, and yet you keep rebelling. You’re lucky today. If you try that with the warlord, he’ll kill you. No one will stop him. Your death will be senseless. Be smart. Try to survive.”
Sage pulled herself from the leader, took shaky steps away from him, and turned to look at him with a raised brow. “Why?” Why was he looking after her?
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Women are rare. You’re worth more alive.”
“Indeed,” she muttered, and turned her back to the leader. Jasmine had managed to stand, but still clutched her ribs, her face a map of pain.
“Are more broken?” Sage asked with worry.