by Frost Kay
“I beg your pardon?” Sage blurted.
“You shouldn’t smell like that.”
The woman pushed from the chair and yanked back her covers. Sage wrapped her hands around her bare body. How long had she been naked? What had happened to her while she slept all that time?
“Stop looking so scandalized. No one’s touched you but the warlord himself.”
Her eyes widened. That didn’t make her feel any better.
The woman rolled her eyes and helped Sage sit up, then stand. “As if he would take advantage of you looking and smelling like you do. Honestly, you Aermians assume everyone wants you.”
Sage blinked and locked her knees when they threatened to buckle. “I meant no offense,” she drew out, feeling off balance.
The woman swiftly lifted Sage into her arms, and strode to another room with a rectangular, steaming pool in the middle. They moved to the edge, and the woman plopped Sage in like she weighed nothing at all. Sage’s bottom rested on a stone ledge, and her fingers weakly grasped the side of the pool. She glanced at the beautiful woman who was watching her like a hawk.
“Don’t drown. I’m not crawling in there to take care of you like the warlord.”
Sage gasped. “He bathed me?”
The woman tsked. “It was nothing untoward, child. You would have died without his care. Do you understand?”
The woman’s rebuke had Sage feeling about a foot tall. She nodded her head.
“Now, don’t let go of that edge, girl. I need to grab supplies.”
What happened? She had bathed naked with that man? Her stomach sank. She was an adulteress. Wait, why did that of all things come to her mind? All the slurs which had been thrown her way after she’d escaped from the palace, they now applied.
“You’re not at fault.”
Sage peeked at Tehl lounging by the pool, looking almost as carefree as his brother.
“I know who you are. I know you would never break our marriage vows.”
“But I did…” She blinked at the stone edge, feeling violated. “I bathed with another man.”
“Not of your own choice. You were on the verge of dying.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What was that?” the woman asked as she came bustling back in. Sage glanced to where Tehl had been a moment earlier, only to see the bare stone floor. “Nothing,” she muttered. God, had she lost her mind in that cell? Had she died? Was this even real?
“You’re thinking out loud you know, and this is real. Just wait until I have to untangle those snarls in your mane. Then you’ll know it’s real. Now hold still.”
She submitted to the vigorous scrubbing and ignored the muttering and cursing coming from the woman. And, stars above, she was right. At one point, she may have begged for the woman to simply cut her hair rather than keep yanking on her head so. “We’ll get there,” was all she said.
When she was finally permitted to leave the pool, she was utterly exhausted. The woman dried her and slipped a linen shirt over her head that was much too large, but Sage didn’t care. She was just happy to be wearing a garment. She sat Sage in front of a mirror, and whipped out a pair of scissors from God knows where. She lifted a hand and grabbed the woman’s wrist, meeting her cinnamon gaze in the mirror. “I may have been a bit hasty when speaking about cutting it.”
“I’m only going to trim off the dead.”
Sage eyed her suspiciously but relented. It was hateful, really, to place her in front of a mirror. Her skin was sallow, and the shirt hung off her bony shoulders. She brushed aside the collar and glared at her protruding collarbone. Her gaze travelled to her face. She looked half dead. The black bags underneath her eyes were the most prominent part of her face. When she couldn’t stand to look at herself anymore, she watched the graceful woman behind her. It was obvious that she found taking care of Sage distasteful.
“What’s your name?” she prodded, hoping to break the silence.
“Maeve.”
She jerked.
“Hold still,” Maeve chastised, fingering her hair. “It’s uncanny how similar you look to my mother,” she muttered, absently.
This was the same woman who’d eyed her with disgust when she and Jasmine were first brought in? Blinking, she scrutinized the woman wielding the scissors. Maeve looked so much younger than she had first thought. She frowned. The Scythian woman spoke in a way that portrayed age, but the woman could hardly be a handful of years older than her.
“If you keep frowning like that, your face will be stuck,” Maeve said, never looking up from her task.
Her frown deepened. That was something her mother would say. It was odd, to say the least.
True to her word, Maeve only trimmed her hair, and then plaited it simply. Once she was finished, she wrapped an arm around her back. “Back to bed with you, missy.”
She helped Sage back to the bed, but ‘helped’ was probably a generous word. Sage gritted her teeth while she was basically carried back to bed. It was horrible having to rely on a stranger for her basic needs, but she was grateful nonetheless. Sage was the enemy to them, and yet the woman took care to help her. As the woman tucked her in, Sage caught her hand and offered a smile. “Thank you, Maeve. Truly. I won’t forget your kindness.”
The woman stared at her for a long time, like she was looking deep inside her. “It was my pleasure, my lady.” She patted Sage’s hand and left the dim room.
Finally alone, Sage allowed herself to fall back asleep.
Hands tore at her clothes, and cruel, brown eyes glared down at her. “You’re nothing. You’ll always be nothing.”
She struggled, and the monster pressed harder down onto her.
“No!” she screamed.
“I’ll always be on your skin. You’ll never get away from me,” Rhys whispered into her neck.
She struggled harder, unable to breathe.
“Sage.”
“Always on your skin.”
“Sage!”
She jerked awake, her entire body shaking. Disoriented, she tried to roll over, only to come into contact with a masculine chest. “No!” She struggled, but her body wasn’t fighting like it should. Her movements were sluggish and weak.
“Sage, it’s just me. It’s just Zane,” the warlord murmured in her ear. “Rhys can’t hurt you. He’s gone forever. He’ll never hurt you again.”
She collapsed against his chest and cried harder. “He’s not gone. He’s still haunting me.” She trembled, her skin crawling. It was like Rhys’ breath was imprinted on her neck.
“They’re just nightmares. It’s not real.” He placed her curled fist over his heart. “Count my heartbeats.”
She flexed her fingers, pressed her palm against his chest, and began to count. She reached 562 when her heart stopped racing, her breathing evened out, and she realized exactly where she was and whom she was with. Sage pushed upright, and scooted away from the warlord, pulling the covers around her tighter. What was he doing here? She met his black gaze.
“Thank you, but I would appreciate it if you got out of my bed.” She held her breath and inwardly winced. Even she could hear the tremor in her voice. She could not afford to appear weaker than she already was.
He studied her, then climbed out of the bed and stood with his hands in his pockets. She breathed a sigh of relief and ran her eyes over his moonlit-haloed figure.
“You’re in my room,” she stated.
“Well, technically it’s my room, but it’s yours until you heal,” he replied.
That startled her. “Why?” What was he after?
“Because I can protect you here.”
She didn’t believe that for one moment. People always have ulterior motives. “Why do you want to protect me? I’m the enemy.” She squinted harder, trying to gauge his reaction.
“Are you my enemy? Have I treated you as one?”
“No,” she said slowly, “but I can’t help feeling there will be a price for your generosity. It’s the way of the w
orld. What do you expect of me?”
His laugh danced through the air, raising goosebumps on her arms. She scowled at him while trying to rub them away. What was so funny?
He shook his head. “So suspicious. Here…” He pulled something from his waist and held it out to her, the edge of a blade glinting in the low light.
Sage eyed the dagger, and then the warlord. Was he trying to bait her? What trickery was he weaving?
“It will not bite you. Take it. It’s a gift. A warrior should never be without a weapon.” He held it out farther.
Sage reached out and hesitated, her hand hovering over the blade. She glanced at the warlord again and decided to just take it, since he was offering it. Pulling the dagger from his grasp, she held it to the light, examining it. It was a simple design, but the hilt fit well in her hand. She balanced it on her palm and smiled. It was balanced well, perfect for throwing. A sense of comfort blanketed her as she palmed the dagger and set it on her lap. Having a means to protect herself meant everything to her. Her gaze flicked back up, and her comfort fled at the intense interest on the warlord’s face. She needed to remember that, even with a weapon, she wasn’t safe here.
He cocked his head. “What made you this way?”
“What?” His question caught her off guard.
“It’s like you expect me to attack you at any moment. What made you so suspicious?”
She thought about lying, but from what she’d seen of him so far, he seemed like someone to see through untruths. So, she led with the ugly truth. “Rhys,” she said flatly.
His jaw clenched, then loosened. “Not every man or Scythian is like him.”
“True, but not every man is as good as my father,” she pointed out.
“I find it interesting that you say your father, not your husband. From what I hear, you have a love match.”
Her fingers clenched in the bedding when the warlord glided around the bed before sinking into a chair placed next to the mattress. He moved with an inhuman grace, and with restrained power. She shivered. He was dangerous. She had to stop forgetting what he was.
“Tehl’s an honorable man with a good heart,” she said softly, inconspicuously pulling the blade from her lap and into her hand. The warlord seemed to miss nothing; he tracked the movement, but said nothing of it.
“Do you trust him?”
“With my life,” she replied without hesitation. She did. Tehl had many qualities she didn’t care for, but loyalty and honesty were two of his best traits. She trusted him.
“Does he love you?” the warlord asked.
“He does,” she said carefully. What an odd question. Where was he going with this? Her sluggish brain couldn’t figure it out. Already, fatigue was weighing her down.
“Then why hasn’t he come for you?”
That was a punch to the gut. She brushed aside her feelings and focused on logic. “A crown prince has many responsibilities. Running after his kidnapped bride into enemy territory would be foolish. And Tehl is not a fool.”
Leather creaked as he leaned closer. “I sent word that you were safe but sick. That your health made it impossible to travel home without an escort. I even sent word that I would bring you to the border.”
Home? Her breathing stuttered. He had to be lying. He was playing a game.
“His reply was not what I expected.” His voice hardened. “A peace treaty and a threat.”
She bowed her head to hide her expression. Tehl threatened the warlord of Scythia? That was a bold thing, but peace? It seemed farfetched. “Is peace such a bad thing?”
“No, but the crown prince’s actions suggest otherwise.”
“I don’t follow,” she replied, her brows slashing together.
“Instead of jumping at the chance to retrieve you, he countered with the offer of your skills as a mediator. He said they were unparalleled.”
Her heart fell to her stomach. Tehl wanted her to stay here? “What else did the letter say?”
“That as long as you were healthy and whole, he’d bring back his Scythian prisoner in the same condition.”
What prisoner? Then it came to her. “Blaise,” she whispered.
“What did you just say?”
She cleared her throat. “He used Blaise?”
“Yes.” He plucked a mug from the side table and handed it to her. “His wording was quite strong.”
“To what end? That doesn’t sound like the crown prince at all.”
“Men will do whatever is necessary to accomplish their will.”
She took a sip and watched him over the rim. “And you?”
He smiled. “I’m no different. But here is my concern. It may not sound like the crown prince, because he’s being manipulated.”
“By who?” she mused.
“I have my suspicions.”
“Humor me,” Sage replied.
“I believe it’s the Methian running things.”
Her fingers tightened on her mug. How did he know Rafe was Methian?
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Sage. Don’t play coy. You’re not unintelligent. You know of the one about whom I speak. He’s been manipulating everyone from the beginning.” The warlord leaned forward to make his point, energy seeming to teem around him. “Ask yourself this: why would he stir Aermia into a rebellion? How would that really help Aermia at all?”
“We needed a new leader.”
“But stirring up a rebellion? Surely, there are better ways to bring about change than a bloody rebellion? Why would he want Aermia weak?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she deflected.
“Come, now, you’re a brilliant woman. Aermia is the central kingdom. It holds all the power.”
“True, maybe.” She raised a brow. Time to bait him as he’d been doing to her. “What keeps you from going after it, if it’s that valuable?”
“I’ve never desired to leave my jungle. We’re self-sufficient. I don’t need your kingdom, so it has no appeal.”
A small laugh escaped her. “The power kingdom has no appeal? I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t believe you.”
“It’s just Zane.”
She ignored his correction, and steeled herself for what she would say next. “Your kingdom has been known for being power-hungry and covetous of others. What you’re saying is the opposite from everything I know to be true.”
He lifted a hand and tugged at his hair. “Do you like to be held accountable for your family’s actions? Or people you don’t even know? That’s what it’s like. I have been held accountable for the sins of a deranged madman with a god complex who died hundreds of years ago. We can’t leave this place without being scorned.”
The anguish in his voice did something to her. She knew what it was like to be judged by rumors.
“Do you want peace?” she echoed again. The warlord didn’t seem evil. If he truly wanted peace, maybe she was exactly where she needed to be.
“I want absolution,” he murmured. “I want the voices of the past to quiet.”
“I can’t give you that, but—” Goosebumps broke out on her arms at the way he stilled at her words, like a predator reading for the hunt. Be brave, Sage. Brave. She swallowed and continued: “I can give you a chance to make a difference.”
“Be careful,” Tehl whispered in her ear. “You’re playing a game you don’t know the rules to.”
She blinked and ignored him, watching the man who held her future in his hands, and quite possibly, the future of her kingdom.
“Do you really think you can erase hundreds of years of bad blood and animosity?”
She chose her words carefully. “No. As much as I would like to say that prejudice will be a thing of the past, it’s not possible. Since the beginning of time, man has found a way to label each other, and then judge those labels. There have always been divisions, and there always will be.”
“So, what are you saying?”
She stared straight into his handsome face. “I�
��m saying that I can’t change the past, but we can change the future. Together,” she added.
His head cocked. “Together?”
“Together.”
She flinched when, in a single fluid motion, he stood and leaned toward her, the ends of his hair tickling her cheeks.
“I accept your proposal, my lady.”
Her eyes were huge when he kissed each of her cheeks. He smiled at her reaction, his white teeth flashing.
“In Scythia, we seal a deal with a kiss.”
She pursed her lips.
“Once you do this, there’s no going back,” Tehl warned in her ear.
Sage leaned closer, not losing eye contact, and kissed one cheek, then the other.
“It is done,” he whispered, his breath washing over her face.
“It’s done,” she repeated.
For better or worse, she’d just made a deal with the warlord of Scythia.
Fourteen
Sage
“You’re going to sleep the day away, Sage. Get up.”
She yawned and ignored Tehl’s voice, snuggling into the bed. When was the last time she’d slept in?
“Remember whose bed you’re sleeping in. How are you so sure he won’t come and join you?”
A tingle ran up her spine and she stiffened. She wasn’t so sure, but the warlord had yet to try anything. “I don’t believe the warlord will harm me,” she muttered. “He wants peace, I can tell. Now go away.”
A voice as smooth as whiskey washed over her. “Now, that’s just rude.”
Sage jerked up, slipping her dagger from beneath her pillow, gritting her teeth as her whole body screamed with the unexpected move. She blinked repeatedly, her eyes still not focusing right, and frowned at the warlord sitting beside her bed.
“What are you doing here?” Her tone was a little harsh, but this was the second time in a handful of hours he’d shown up in her room, silent as a wraith.
Zane blinked at the dagger and sniggered. “I think that was the weakest threat I’ve ever received.”