Enemy's Queen

by Frost Kay

  Orion’s soft voice washed over her: “Where do you go when your gaze glazes over?”

  “Home,” she whispered without thinking.

  “This is your home,” Phoenix stated, taking a step closer.

  “No.” She shook her head with a sad smile. “This is my prison.”

  Phoenix scoffed. “Your prison? Do we have you chained to the wall like the warlord has his woman?”

  “She’s not his woman.”

  Orion slapped a hand over her mouth and stared at their door with hard eyes. “You cannot speak like that, Jas. You need to control your speech.”

  She pried his hand off her face, one finger at a time. “It’s never stopped me before.”

  “You’ve seen what it’s like in the obsidian pit,” Mekhl said. “If you cannot control yourself, we will be banished or executed.”

  Death didn’t scare her, but the obsidian pit did. She’d barely managed to catch a glimpse of it before the warriors had taken Sage and herself before the warlord. Curiosity had led her to take her walks there. It wasn’t as beautiful close up. Slaves lived in abominable conditions, starved, filthy, beaten and bloody. The depravity and sin in which the Scythians conducted themselves was sickening. Any woman was considered fair game there by the barbaric warriors. She’d had a few close calls herself. If it hadn’t been for one of the men, she’d have been raped, or worse. Regardless of how bad it was down there, she kept visiting. It was like she needed to see the terrible conditions to keep herself from doing something stupid—like attempting an escape. Plus, it was one of the few ways she could do something to help. Only Orion knew that she smuggled food down there to feed some of the people.

  She turned to Phoenix with her arms crossed and stood tall as he regarded her. “I would choose death before that.”

  “Brave, but you may not have a choice. You’re now part of the warlord’s circle. If he comes for you, there’s nothing we can do.”

  A chill skittered down her spine. The way the warlord had examined her with his cold, calculating eyes had pulled the warmth from her body. He was every bit the monster she’d imagined him. But it was when he spoke she saw that he was also insane. Her heart ached for her friend. Had Sage been with him the entire time? What had she experienced at the hands of such a man? Goosebumps broke out on her arms. Her friend looked so different. So foreign. She’d touched Sage’s face, needing assurance that her friend was still there. Sage’s beauty had become something almost unreal. She resembled the warlord in that way, and it frightened Jasmine.

  Rubbing a hand over her arm, she eyed the men, each observing her. It was times like these that she felt guilt. She could be suffering so much more, and yet she wasn’t. Even though she hated being a captive, she appreciated the men she’d been sold to. They could’ve been like that bastard Rhys who’d just enjoyed inflicting pain, but they tended her wounds, spoke to her, fed and clothed her. Really, they didn’t ask anything from her except obedience when in the public eye. Yes, it could be much worse.

  Times like those were the most trying. She hated acting the slave in front of other warriors, it was demeaning. But it was then she remembered the twins. This wasn’t about her anymore. They needed her, so it was her responsibility to do everything she could to survive and eventually get back to them.

  “You could always let me go.” At their silence, she tried another tactic. “Do any of you have children?”

  “No, but by the stars, we hope to in the near future,” Mekhl said, his voice holding reverence.

  “Before your people took me, I was a mother.”

  The three men stilled.

  “I have twins in Aermia, ones that I desperately miss and adore. I want to go home. They need me.”

  Phoenix strode forward and lifted her chin. “Lying about children is despicable. They’re rare in Scythia and precious. How dare you use them as a way to sway us!”

  “It’s true. Their names are Jade and Ethan and they’re three years old.”

  His lips thinned. “We know you lie. The healer certified your purity after your examination.”

  She jerked her chin out of his hand and glared at him. “They are mine, but they’re not from my womb. Your people attacked my village, killing my brother and his wife, leaving the twins alone in the world except for me. They became mine from that point on.”

  Phoenix dipped his chin. “Apologies.”

  She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but rarely did they apologize for anything. “Accepted.”

  “So, you have children?” Mekhl asked.

  “I do, and I miss them so much. I worry about them constantly.”

  “Why are you just telling us of them now?” Orion demanded.

  She looked from one man to the next. “Because you need to know what your kingdom’s crimes have wrought, and what sort of place and people you expect me to embrace as home.”

  “You will never go back there,” Phoenix said, softly. “Even if it was possible to grant you escape, you wouldn’t survive the trek through the jungle. You barely survived the first time. The best thing you can do is put those children out of your mind. I’m sure your village is taking fine care of them.” Something warmed in his eyes. “I’m sorry for what you suffered, but we can’t change what’s happened. If children are something you want, I’ll give them to you. There would be no greater joy in the world than for me to have my own young.”

  Jasmine choked on her retort as he finished. Phoenix was offering her something that he thought she wanted. He was trying to help, even though it did the opposite. “Could you forget children you’d left alone and helpless?”

  Phoenix glanced to the side, his jaw ticking.

  “With the way you speak of children, I know the answer is no. Please don’t expect me to forget them. They’re everything to me. And, as for your offer, I appreciate it, but the answer is no. I don’t want to bring more children into this world. It’s too dangerous.”

  “If that’s what you wish,” Mekhl murmured.

  All Jasmine’s energy seemed to abandon her, leaving her with a headache and a desire for a nap. “I need to lie down,” she muttered and left the group behind her.

  She climbed onto the bed and stared at the wall. She had too many problems to solve. Maybe life would look a little simpler after a nap.

  Twenty-Two

  Sage

  She’d spend the rest of her life chained to the bloody wall.

  She hung against the chains, not caring about her wrists. They were scarred already. What was a little more?

  The warlord had left her strung up for five days. Five days. By day three, she’d pleaded with him to let her down, her arms numb and her legs feeble. The memory of his response still nauseated her.

  He’d kissed her on the temple and cupped her face gently, gazing at her with affection. “This hurts me as much as it hurts you,” he had said. “It kills me to have you tied up like this, but it will be better for us in the end. Soon, you’ll long for my company.” His nose nuzzled at her ear. “To crave my affection.” His hand drifted from her cheek to her pulse beating wildly at the base of her throat. “To beg for my touch.” Another soft kiss against her temple. “To come to grips with what it means to be mine.”

  To her everlasting shame, she’d told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

  But he’d stared right through her with a sad smile. “They don’t sound like how I imagined. One day, though, you’ll mean those words. Until then, we both must suffer.”

  And suffer she did.

  Each day, she submitted to him wiping her down with a cloth, feeding her from his hand, and conversing with her like they had before. Upon waking today, she was filled with a hopelessness she’d never before experienced. Sage wanted to close her eyes and just sleep forever.

  The bathing pool was just in sight, and she had a sudden revelation. She now understood why Ezra had tried to kill her. Somehow, he had seen this coming. In the only way he could, he had tried to save her. Even now, staring
at the pool, she wished he had succeeded. That peace Ezra promised? She longed for it and didn’t even have the energy to be ashamed of her thoughts.

  The door banged open, admitting the savior-turned-tormentor.

  His wide, handsome smile should’ve put her on guard, but at this point, she didn’t care what happened.

  “I have news I’m sure you’ll love.”

  She hung her head, tuning him out.

  A finger slipped under her chin and lifted it up. Black eyes met hers. His smile slowly faded as he studied her. Minutes or hours might have passed as he gazed at her face. “It’s done,” he whispered in awe.

  It took her a moment to realize he was smiling at her—not his normal smile, but the smile that made her heart flip and her chest warm. Despite everything that had happened, when he smiled at her like that, it made everything a little better. Shame filled her. Stars above, she was pathetic.

  “It’s time for you to come down, wild one.”

  A slow blink. She couldn’t even rouse herself enough to get excited. What if he was just playing with her, only to snatch away her hope?

  “Send for Maeve,” he commanded.

  The warrior who stood just inside his door spun on his heel and disappeared through the door.

  “Okay, my lovely. It’s time.”

  Zane moved in close and wrapped an arm around her waist. He lifted her, taking all her weight off her wrists and feet.

  Tears sprang to her eyes at the instant relief, and pain swamped her. Her forehead landed on his shoulder as she breathed heavily. A small cry escaped her when he moved her arm from the one manacle and placed it around his neck. Hell, it hurt so bad.

  “I know it hurts, but it will get better. I promise.”

  Her body trembled against his as he removed the chain from the wall and laid her down on the bed. His hands circled her arms and rubbed at them. More tears blurred her vision.

  “It hurts.”

  “Patience. This will help.”

  Sage bit her lip to keep her cries of pain locked away as he worked feeling back into her arms.

  “You sent for me, my lord?”

  The familiar feminine voice had Sage searching for its owner. Maeve was as beautiful as she remembered—and just as disapproving. The woman’s gaze scoured her and rested on the warlord’s back. Something flickered across Maeve’s face, and quick as lightning, disappeared. But Sage had seen it. It was an emotion with which she’d become very well acquainted over the years.

  Hate.

  Sage dropped her eyes to the warlord before the other woman saw the surprise on her face. Maeve had sung the warlord’s praises the last time she’d been here, so what had changed these last few weeks?

  “I need you to have a bath drawn for Sage.”

  Maeve started for the bathing room.

  “Not in there. Bring one for the room.”

  Maeve paused and muttered, “It will be done, my lord.”

  “That’s not necessary, my lord,” Sage whispered, knowing even then Maeve heard the words. “The pool in the bathing room is adequate.”

  When he lifted his head and pushed his hair from his face, she forced herself not to cower. A coldness emanated from him, giving his face cruel lines.

  “You’ll never bathe in that pool again.”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  He reached out a hand and brushed her cheek so softly that his touch could have been a butterfly’s wing. “He almost took you from me. I’ll never forget, and I don’t want reminders. You’ll not bathe in there again.”

  She swallowed and nodded her head in understanding. Some tension in his broad shoulders fell away, and he went back to rubbing her arms. Sage glanced over his head to the woman staring at her with an unreadable expression.

  “Maeve?”

  “Right away, my lord.”

  Sage stared at the covered window, listening as a tub was brought in and then the hot water, one pail at a time. The window was so close. If she could walk the fifteen paces, it would be within her grasp. But as close as it was, it was plenty far away. She’d never escape through there. Plus, part of her was afraid of opening that curtain. She had no idea what she’d find on the other side.

  A finger traced her brow. She turned to Zane and stared up at him, silently accepting the touch.

  “Are you ready for your bath?”

  “Yes.”

  Even though he’d cleaned her as she hung there, she only felt dirtier. Maybe if she scrubbed hard enough, she could scrub away the last five days.

  He took her hand and helped her slowly sit up the rest of the way.

  “If you’ll give us privacy, I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of,” Maeve said.

  “I’ll stay.” The warlord’s tone left no room for argument.

  Maeve gaped for a second, and then her expression hardened. Even her feet widened like she was getting ready to physically fight an opponent. “It’s not proper, my lord. I assure you, I’ll take the utmost—”

  “No.” His icy tone doused the room. “Do not tell me what’s proper, sister. I’ll not take any chances with her. Now, please do as I command. Help her undress and care for her, but I’ll not leave.”

  Sage swallowed and stared at Maeve over the warlord’s shoulder. She was Zane’s sister? The woman looked ready to retort, but she inhaled deeply and seemed to forgo any further argument.

  “It will be done.”

  “Thank you, Maeve.” He stood and moved toward the pool room. “I’ll give you privacy to change,” he called over his shoulder.

  If she could muster a grain of humor, Sage would’ve snorted at that. The man hadn’t given her privacy in days. He’d been the one to bring her a chamber pot in which to relieve herself, for God’s sake. Sage turned to the Scythian woman, scrutinizing her. She didn’t care for the haughty look Maeve was giving her. It wasn’t her fault she was in this situation.

  “Quit scowling at me and help me up, please.”

  Maeve shook her head and strode to her side. Her nose wrinkled as she got a good look at Sage’s robe. “You stink.”

  She shrugged, not offended in the least. She did stink.

  “Can you walk?”

  “I cannot,” Sage replied without shame.

  Maeve mumbled something under her breath and slipped an arm behind Sage’s back. “I’m not carrying you.”

  Sage nodded and painfully shuffled toward the bath.

  “Place your hands on the tub’s edge, and I’ll help you out of your robe.”

  Sage did as she was told and shivered as the Scythian woman stripped her of the soiled cloth. Maeve sucked in a sharp breath. Sage peeked over her shoulder to catch Maeve looking like she’d bitten into a lemon. Sage ignored her and managed to slip into the tub. A sigh slipped out as warmth caressed her aches. Fingers lifted her hair over the tub’s edge.

  “This will need a good brushing before I can wash it. It’s a mess.”

  Sage’s eyes slowly closed, and she hummed deep in her throat as Maeve began to brush her hair. There was something so soothing about it. In that moment, homesickness slapped her so hard she lost her breath. She wanted her mum, wanted to be hugged and held by someone who loved her.

  She opened her eyes and stiffened. The warlord knelt by the bath, watching her with an intensity that made her gut clench. How long had he been watching her? She crossed an arm across her chest and one to the juncture of her thighs. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “Watching my consort bathe, as is my right.”

  She shrank deep into the tub, wishing to disappear from his heated gaze.

  “My lord, you’re making my job difficult. No doubt you wanted her to relax during her bath?”

  “Indeed,” he murmured. He smiled, all seduction, and skated his fingertip across the top of one of her breasts. “So beautiful.”

  Everything cried out at the violation. There was nothing she wanted more than to slap his hand away, but she didn’t. She let him touch her. She had to. />
  He sighed, and his midnight-black gaze flickered above her head. “I know what you’re alluding to. I’ll leave you, but just know that if anything happens to her, there will be consequences. I’m leaving the door cracked so the guards can listen.” He glanced back at her face. “I’ll see you soon, wild one.” Zane pushed from the floor and glided on silent feet out the door.

  Sage stared at the closed door, wondering if it was a trick. Was he just waiting on the other side for her to get comfortable, so he could lunge back in?

  “You can breathe now,” Maeve murmured, her accent lilting.

  The breath she was holding rushed out in a torrent of air. Her pounding heart didn’t slow, though. How often did he sneak up on her without her knowing?

  “He’s gone now.”

  “What?” Sage asked.

  “The warlord. I can no longer hear him.”

  It unnerved her that she was surrounded by people so much more powerful than she was. Here in Scythia, she was the prey. A shudder worked down her spine at the thought.

  Maeve poured water over Sage’s hair and began to wash it. Minute by minute, Sage’s unease abated. A calm quiet settled over the room, giving her a small sense of safety and comfort.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, while staring blankly at the wall ahead. “I know this isn’t something you’d wish to do, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” After spending days chained, she was sure she couldn’t have washed her own hair even if she’d been given the option, and the idea of the warlord doing it made her sick.

  The fingers in her hair paused. “You’re welcome,” Maeve said gruffly. She finished up with Sage’s hair and moved gracefully around the tub. Holding a rag, she sank to her knees in one fluid movement. “Your wrist, please,” she asked, holding her hand out.

  Sage pulled her hand from the scented water and held her abused flesh out for the Scythian. Maeve’s lips tightened, but other than that, she said nothing. The Scythian woman took painstaking care of her arms, washing the wounds until they were clean. Sage startled when Maeve’s hand clenched against her wrist. Her yip of pain made the Scythian woman loosen her grip, but the glint in her eyes and thin lips spoke of anger. Sage followed her gaze. Ah, her scars.