by Frost Kay
The weapons master snapped his mouth shut.
If Sage was inside, there was still a chance she lived. Tehl needed to get inside. Now.
He rushed to the horse trough, one thought in his mind: find her.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I won’t allow it,” the older man said with determination.
“I’m the bloody crown prince. No one gives me orders,” Tehl growled and dunked himself in the lukewarm water. He jumped from the trough and slicked his wet hair from his face.
Zachael placed himself between Tehl and the remnants of the infirmary. “You are the bloody crown prince, and as much as it pains me to say this—you’re more important. You can’t risk your life this way.”
Tehl wanted to point out all the ways he risked his life every day, fighting monsters, but he didn’t have time for that.
“Don’t make me cut you down,” he warned the weapons master. “Get out of the way!”
“She’ll be long gone by now,” Zachael said softly, pulling his blade from the scabbard at his hip. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t allow it.”
“Who’s long gone?” a raspy voice coughed.
Tehl jerked around at the sound of Blaise’s voice and scanned the bushes behind them. Blaise lay on her side just behind the trough, her muted clothing blending in with the blackened brush along the ground.
“My wife.” He couldn’t say her name.
The Scythian’s forehead wrinkled, confusion twisted her face. “No, she’s—” Blaise wheezed, her dark eyes closing as she struggled for breath.
Zachael moved to her side and slapped her on the back.
She gasped, a cry bursting from her mouth. “Burns.”
“Bloody hell,” the weapons master hissed. He jerked his hand away.
Tehl rushed to her and knelt, his hands clasping either side of Blaise’s face. “Where is she?”
Blaise opened her eyes, tears streaming down her face, and Tehl’s heart cracked further open.
“Her guard took her to the creek.”
He stiffened and blinked slowly, not able to understand her words. “She’s alive?” he croaked, his hands trembling.
The Scythian studied him. “I can hear them coming.”
Tehl’s fingers tightened momentarily, and he forced himself to carefully release Blaise. It was too good to be true. Woodenly, he stood and took two halting steps toward the creek. Sage pushed through the brush, soot-streaked and soaking wet. Her gaze locked onto his, and she froze as if detecting a predator.
His mind screamed for him to rush to her side and scoop her into his arms. To reaffirm that she was whole and healthy. Yet, his body refused to obey him. All he could do was watch her as numbness crept through his limbs. She was alive, but from the state of her torched clothing, she had gone inside the infirmary.
She’d risked her life and his heart, and she’d ignored what he’d asked of her.
Reckless and selfish.
Sage pressed her lips together and opened her mouth to speak.
He held up his hand. If she spoke, he would lose it.
Tehl ran his eyes all over her body one last time to affirm that she was okay before turning his attention to the Methian warrior standing by her side, his expression serene.
“Make sure she gets back to our quarters safely.”
He spared his wife one last accusatory look and turned his back on her. He didn’t feel the heat from the fire, nor did he take in the scenery around him. He only welcomed the numbness as he moved toward the chaos that awaited him.
She hadn’t listened.
She’d almost died.
It broke something inside him.
Twelve
Sage
She’d messed up.
The look on Tehl’s face wasn’t something Sage would soon forget. She glanced around the new, makeshift infirmary and took in a shallow breath through her mouth. Charred flesh and singed hair created a pungent odor that had her frequently retching.
A moan sounded from her left, but Sage forced herself to keep her eyes pinned to her mud- covered boots as she shuffled to sit on a stool placed between Mira’s and Blaise’s cots. It was cowardly of her, but the burned remains of the soldier two cots down were just too much. The pieces of flesh didn’t even resemble a human being anymore, more like a melted candle.
Her stomach rolled, and saliva flooded her mouth a second before she heaved into the tin bucket firmly planted between her feet. Tears sprang to her eyes as the contents of her belly revolted against her.
“You should get some rest,” Mira rasped. “Being here isn’t good for you.”
Sage wiped her mouth with her dirty, trembling hand. “The moment I leave, you’ll get up.” She lifted her head and glared at the cot to her left. Mira stared back placidly through bloodshot eyes. “That innocent gaze doesn’t fool me.”
Mira wasn’t in good shape. She’d inhaled a lot of smoke. Her voice was so hoarse, she could have passed for a man. She had burns everywhere and, while it could have been worse, she still was a bloody mess. Sage’s gaze wandered to Mira’s bandaged palms. The worst was her right hand. Apparently, she’d tried to move a burning tent support that had fallen onto one of her patients. It had to hurt like hell, yet Mira hadn’t uttered one complaint other than the fact that she hated being a patient.
“I’m no good to anyone, lying here,” Mira had argued. “There aren’t any other healers of my level of expertise here. I’m needed.”
Blaise had released a smoky chuckle. “Don’t let the Methi queen hear you say that.”
Now, Sage craned her neck and peeked over her shoulder at Queen Osir. The woman was an army in her own right. In the hours that had passed since the Scythian attack, she’d not stopped moving. She’d marshaled a troop of healers to help those who’d suffered in the fire.
A sniff pulled Sage’s attention back to Mira, and her heart clenched.
The healer released a hacking cough, and a tear dripped down her cheek and onto the cot as she stared at the ceiling.
“Is it the pain?” Sage asked in concern. “I can get something for you.”
Mira shook her head and croaked, “I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t save them.”
“Don't think like that,” Sage crooned. She placed her hand gingerly on Mira’s uninjured shoulder. “You did your best.”
Mira twisted her neck and met Sage’s gaze. “It wasn’t good enough.” More tears tracked down the healer’s cheeks. “How could someone do such a thing?”
That was the very question Sage had been asking herself for hours. It was inhuman. Monstrous. Mira released a gurgling, hiccupping laugh. “I should have known when Tehl brought you to me. I’d never seen someone is such a state.” Sage hid her flinch. Her friend wasn’t trying to hurt her. “We’re dealing with a demon and his monsters. No one with any shred of humanity would cause the suffering and torture he does.”
Sage nodded. “You’re right.”
Her friend angrily wiped at her face and sat up, her face creased in a grimace.
“Whoa!” Sage said, holding her hands out. “Take it easy.”
Mira gave her a withering glance. “Like you do?”
“She’s got you there,” Blaise piped in.
Sage rolled her eyes at the Scythian woman. “What would you know about it?”
Blaise snorted and then released a chest-rattling cough, her whole body convulsing with the movement. Once she’d gained control of herself, all humor fled from her expression.
“I’ve never seen you hold still for more than a few minutes of time. You’ve lost weight. When is the last time you had a full night of sleep?” the Scythian woman asked.
Sage pursed her lips.
Before the warlord.
Blaise nodded as if she could read her mind. “I lived with that monster my whole life. I know what effects he can have. You’re working yourself to the bone and if you keep it up, you’ll break before we’ve defeated him.”
Sage’s jaw clenc
hed, and she had to look away. She knew Blaise was right, but it didn’t mean it was easy to hear. The warlord was always one step ahead of them. No matter what it felt like, she was fighting against a raging storm.
“You need to set boundaries and keep them,” Blaise suggested.
Sage bristled. “Aermia can’t afford any.” She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they failed. The world as they knew it would cease to be. The warlord’s dark smile flashed through her mind, and she fought back a shiver. It would be a bleak world indeed.
“They can’t afford a dead queen, either.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m no queen.”
Blaise gave her a bemused smile. “Crown or no crown, you are these men’s queen. They look to you for guidance. You need to set the example. Even in war, there must be rest for healing of the mind and body.”
“I will try harder,” Sage gritted out. It seemed impossible, but she vowed she would try.
“Do so.” Blaise’s attention wandered to something over Sage’s shoulder. “Your mate is waiting for you.”
Now it was her turn to snort. “I doubt it. He hasn’t looked at me all night.” Ever since he’d walked away from her earlier, Tehl had completely ignored her. It was as if she had become a piece of furniture.
“Maybe not in the way you’re accustomed to, but he’s been tuned in to your every move,” Blaise said.
“I don’t know what to say to him.” If Sage told him the truth, it would just upset him more. Her gaze moved between her two friends. Her risk was worth it because the three of them were whole and alive. That’s what mattered. Sage couldn’t lose either of them.
“Tell him you’re sorry for being stupid,” Mira wheezed. “And lay it on thick if need be.”
“If I hadn’t acted rashly, both of you would be dead,” Sage pointed out.
Blaise reached out and squeezed her wrist. “Boundaries. Trust that others will take the training you’ve given them and be successful. Be humble. You can’t do everything. When you make a mistake, even if the outcome is a positive one, apologize to the ones you’ve hurt. Your man is hurting, whether he’s showing it or not.”
That was true enough. Sage knew Tehl was the quiet sort who didn’t show his feelings to hardly anyone. She’d also known, the moment he locked eyes on her near the forest, she’d angered him.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m blessed with wise friends.”
“That’s not the only thing you’re blessed with,” Blaise retorted, eyeing Tehl. “Make use of my advice.”
Sage smiled. “Do either of you need anything before I go?”
Blaise quirked a half smile. “No, the healers will care for my burnt arse.”
Mira inhaled sharply as she swung her legs off the cot. She patted Sage’s knee and then leaned back, bracing her left hand against the cot. “Leave. We’re well looked after, and you’ve done all you can. Stop putting off the inevitable.”
She stood and glanced at her two friends. “I’ll see you both once I get some proper rest.”
“We’ll be here,” Blaise retorted, lacing her fingers together and then placing her head on them, the picture of relaxation.
Sage marshaled her thoughts and pasted a smile on her face. Blaise was right. She couldn’t let the men see her down and beaten. It was bad for morale.
She turned on her heel, and kept the horror off her face as she passed the other fire survivors. The walk to the entrance of the tent seemed to go on forever as she passed cot after cot.
Queen Osir caught her eye and jerked her head toward the tent exit. Sage dutifully followed the Methian queen. Her breath came easier as she stepped from the cloying tent and into the fresh, early morning air. Her eyes lifted to the still-dark sky and part of her wanted to cry out to the stars.
Why? Why this?
“You did well,” the queen said.
“Did I?” Sage frowned. “I puked.”
“Lesser men would have never even stepped inside that hellhole.” The queen narrowed her amber eyes and laid a hand on Sage’s chest. “How is your breathing?”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
The older woman gave her a skeptical look. “You need to rest. You’re no good to us worn down.”
“So I’ve been told,” she muttered. Was she doing such a bad job?
“You’ll be short of breath for several days. With luck, you won’t get sick. I want you to stay off the battlefield.”
Sage glanced at her sharply. “I won’t agree to that.” The Scythians were pressing forward every day. The Aermian army needed all the help they could get.
The queen’s expression hardened. “What do you think will happen when you go out onto the field and your lungs seize? Your enemy won’t wait for you to recover. You will be a danger to everyone around you—a distraction. My son fights with you every day. He tells me of your strength, but of your weakness, too. If you falter, he will fight to protect you.” She stepped into Sage’s space. “Rafe loves you. He will die for you. Are you really willing to risk my son’s life for the sake of your pride?”
“There’s no guarantee that would happen,” Sage argued. “What if I’m not there to protect Rafe’s back?”
The queen snorted. “My son can protect himself.”
“Now who’s prideful?” she said softly.
“It’s not easy, is it?”
Sage frowned. “What?”
“Being a woman in power who is surrounded by men,” the queen said. “We always feel the need to prove ourselves. It’s never easy for us. Men often seek to dominate us or look for every flaw and weakness. I’ve learned over the years that a wise ruler needs to step back and take a look at the bigger picture.” She touched Sage’s cheek. “You are a fine warrior and will make a wonderful ruler, but only if you let yourself heal. I can hear how you’re trying to cover the wheeze in your chest. Lying to yourself and to those around you about your health will help no one. It’s okay to let others take care of you.”
“It’s not so easy,” Sage whispered.
“No, it is not.” The queen removed her hand from Sage’s face. “Think about what I have said and take care of yourself, dear.” She turned on her heel, her silver-and-black braid swinging behind her. She paused by the tent flap and turned, shooting Sage a menacing look. “If you decide to be stupid and my son is hurt, I will hold you responsible.”
Sage eyed the Methian queen as she disappeared into the tent. She wouldn’t want that woman as her enemy. She cleared her throat as the tickle became almost unbearable. How had the damn queen heard the wheeze in her lungs? Her lips pursed. While the Methian soldiers hadn’t said anything outright, she had the sneaking suspicion they possessed remarkable senses. Rafe certainly possessed gifts she’d never seen in anyone—but the warlord—before. She swallowed, and her gaze drifted past their tents and the battlefield to the dark tents of the Scythians. What sort of secrets did the warlord have?
“I wish you could feel the hate I have for you,” she whispered into the early morning air.
She jumped when the flap to the infirmary snapped open and Tehl’s scent invaded her senses as he brushed by her without a word. Sage stared guiltily at his back and fell into step behind him as the Elite materialized from the dark and formed a loose circle around them.
Her lip curled in distaste. How much had they heard of her conversation with the queen? Nothing was private or sacred anymore. Her mind flashed back to her kidnapping. Even with the inconvenience of never being alone or having a private conversation, the protection was worth it. Never again did she want to be taken against her will.
Sage counted each step through the camp toward their chambers, feeling a prickling of doom along the bare skin of her arms. She shivered, and her brows furrowed. Where did she leave her cloak? In fact, when had she lost it?
But there were more pressing matters than her damn cloak. Raised voices pierced through the twilight air as they drew closer. Hayjen’s voice was louder than the rest.
Leave it to him to be the one shouting.
Her eyes burned, and her throat ached. She really wanted to go to bed.
Her gaze wandered to Tehl’s back as they neared their own tent. She needed to make amends but now wasn’t the time.
Aermia came first.
Thirteen
Hayjen
“We need to strike now!” Why were they all dragging their feet? Hayjen glared at the men clustered around the circular table in the center of the room.
“They will expect us to retaliate,” Zachael said calmly. “We need to proceed with caution.”
Caution? Caution got them nowhere. Lilja’s crumpled form was still seared into his mind. Caution led to more death. They had to fight. “If we do nothing, the warlord wins.” Did no one understand that?
Hayjen’s gaze snapped to the entrance of the tent as Tehl and Sage stepped inside. His attention homed in on the blank expression on the crown prince’s face. War wasn’t ever pretty, but the destruction tonight was something else entirely. It was enough to break a man. He studied Tehl and slid his gaze to his niece. Sage flicked questioning glances at her husband as they joined the small war council. She looked concerned but not terrified. The prince hadn’t been broken; he was just processing.
“Tonight’s attack is most troubling.” William ran a hand along his white, pointed goatee, and his bushy brows furrowed. “The Scythians have disregarded all war etiquette. Things are about to get infinitely darker. We need to tread lightly, or we’ll lose ourselves to this madness.”
Rafe snorted, and his brother Raziel chuckled.
“We’re dealing with animals. What makes you believe that they will act like civilized, human beings?” Raziel asked sarcastically. “Mark my words, it will only get bloodier from here. We will have to match their efforts if we want to win.”
Bloodstained lips taunted Hayjen from a ghostly, pale face, Lilja’s pained magenta eyes dulling. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to control his emotions. Over the last several weeks, he’d been either numb or burning with rage. There wasn’t a middle ground. Even in sleep, he couldn’t escape the horror of his soul-rendering loss.