by Frost Kay
“We must destroy the rest of his war machines,” Tehl said, his tone flat. “Soon.”
“At what cost?” Sage whispered. “You saw what he did in retaliation tonight. We’ve lost many in one fell swoop.”
Hayjen lifted his head at her anguished tone and studied the young couple. The crown prince stood as stiff as a board. Shadows slithered through his eyes, but his expression never cracked.
“You believe I’m to blame for the attack?” Tehl asked, never taking his attention from the war map.
Sage’s mouth opened and then snapped closed. The members of the council all found somewhere else to look, but Hayjen watched the drama, a pinprick of jealousy stabbing him. He missed arguing with his wife. Marriage to a Sirenidae wasn’t easy—hell, no marriage was easy—but he’d kill to be able to fight with Lilja one last time.
“It’s no one’s fault but the warlord’s,” Sage said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
She shifted from foot to foot, reaching a hand toward Tehl and then dropping it before she touched him. Definitely trouble in paradise.
“This is on him and no one else. We need to tread carefully,” she reasoned. “He’ll anticipate our moves. We need to act rationally and not in anger.”
“That’s my specialty,” Tehl said woodenly. “Can you say the same?”
Heat rushed into Sage’s cheeks, and she glanced at the group, clearly embarrassed. Raziel coughed into his fist and side-eyed the tent flap. Hayjen scowled at Tehl. There was no need to embarrass her in front of everyone, no matter how angry Tehl was. Hayjen almost stepped in, but then good old William broke up the tension.
“Dawn is approaching, and we haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks. This needn’t be decided right now. We will reconvene in a few hours when all our heads are clearer.”
Sage smiled gratefully at the grizzled general while the Methian princes quietly departed. Tehl didn’t say anything as he disappeared into the rear section of the tent where his chambers were.
Hayjen stayed put as William clasped Sage’s shoulder in support, and Zachael offered a quick hug before both men left. Sage leaned a hip against the table and rubbed at her forehead, further smearing the spot of soot already lodged there.
She sighed. “Whatever you have to say, out with it. I’m exhausted and need to go to bed.”
“I doubt you’ll be asleep anytime soon,” Hayjen murmured. Whatever was between the two of them, they’d work it out, but it would take time.
“What makes you say that?” Sage fiddled with a chain at her neck, avoiding his gaze.
Hayjen focused on the giant map and the small wooden carvings on it that marked the armies’ locations. “I was married for a long time.” He swallowed hard and soldiered on, despite how the words stuck in the back of his throat. “I can sense when a storm is brewing.” He peeked at his niece from beneath his lashes. “And by the look of guilt upon your face, I suspect you have some apologizing to do, baby girl.”
Sage darted a glance toward her chambers and then shot him a dirty look. “It’s just a misunderstanding.” She ran her finger along the dangling charm and flicked her finger against the clasp.
“Then why do you feel so horrid?” He straightened and crossed his arms, for some reason transfixed by her nervous movements. Something seemed so familiar about the necklace.
“He’s angry because I disobeyed him,” Sage hissed. “I never signed up to be his subordinate.”
Hayjen squinted harder at her fingers. It wasn’t a charm… Was it a ring? Damn, he’d soon need some spectacles. “What did he tell you not to do?”
His niece held the ring up and flipped open the lid. Recognition slammed into him, followed by fear. Sage inspected the needle of the poisonous ring and pulled it closer to her face to get a closer look.
Good god.
“Close the damn ring!” he barked, his voice louder than he intended. Sage startled but snapped the ring closed.
“You didn’t have to yell,” she said crossly.
Hayjen rushed around the table and snatched the ring from her fingers, pulling her along with the chain. He leaned closer and held the ring up to the lantern light. Stars above, how long had Sage had this jewelry? How many times had she opened the poison ring? “Do you know what this is?”
“A gift.”
“Death,” he whispered. How could she not know? “A horrid death. I assume Lilja—" he swallowed at the use of her name “—gave this to you?”
“She said to use it if I was ever captured again.” A look of uncertainty crossed Sage’s face. “It’s my escape.”
He nodded, his heart aching. “While that is true, she didn’t explain how it works. The poison in this ring comes from some of the deepest trenches in the sea. It has been brewed to kill Scythian warriors. If even the smallest drop were to touch your skin, you’d die—no prick or cut necessary.” Sage’s eyes widened. “That’s right. You were just playing with death.” He carefully lowered the necklace and cupped her shoulders. “Never, ever do that again.”
A tremble worked through Sage. “That would have been nice to know earlier,” she croaked. “I’ve always liked dangerous things, but that’s a little extreme. Even for me.”
Hayjen huffed out a laugh. “Your aunt had an interesting idea of what was an appropriate gift.”
“After my experiences, I welcomed her sort of gifts. Even if she didn’t warn me that I was literally playing with death.”
“Sometimes she forgot others around her weren’t from the sea.” He crooked a smile. “She never saw a difference between peoples. Everyone was the same to her.”
“She was one of a kind,” Sage whispered.
A pang of loss shot through him. He needed a drink, and some damn sleep before he went back to the battlefield. He leaned down and kissed Sage on her forehead. “Don’t let the sun set on your anger. Fix what you need to before you sleep.”
Sage sighed. “Mum used to say that all the time.”
Hayjen pulled back and smiled softly. “That’s because I taught her. Goodnight.” He wove around her and lifted the flap.
“Hayjen?”
He paused and glanced over his shoulder at his niece, her face looking far too weighed down for someone so young. “Yeah?”
Something dark lingered in her gaze, but she blinked it away, and a small smile touched her mouth. “I love you.”
He stiffened, and liquid heat burned at the back of his eyes. Hayjen nodded and gruffly choked out, “You too, ma fille.”
He ducked out of the tent before he could make an ass of himself. He needed some bloody sleep and a heavy dose of whiskey. The sun had already begun to lighten the sky to the east. Damn it. Sleep would be short. Maybe his wife wouldn’t torment him while he snatched a few winks of sleep. A twisted smile lifted his lips. He’d rather have her haunt him than have her not grace his nightmares at all.
Or worse: forget her.
He made his way to his tent and plopped down on his bed roll. He glanced at his pillow in longing. Better not. He’d need to get to the battlefield within the hour.
Hayjen swiped the bottle of whiskey from the floor and uncorked the top. He took a heavy swig, barely tasting the bitter swill. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Most would scold him for drinking so early. Most wives would berate their husbands. But Lilja would have grabbed a glass and had a drink with him.
“I miss you,” he said to the empty tent.
Fourteen
Sam
Sam placed his hands atop the huge vanity and eyed his pale complexion in the tall, gilded mirror. He looked like hell. He scoffed. He was pretty sure he’d been there and back in the weeks prior.
A soft knock at the door.
“Enter.”
Marilyn, one of his oldest spies, entered his chamber. He lifted his head and smiled weakly at her. She didn’t smile back, her frown causing the wrinkles around her mouth to deepen. His heart fell.
“Nothing?”
She shook h
er head. “We’ve searched high and low, my lord. There hasn’t even been a whisper of a woman of her description anywhere. If she were in the city, we would have found her by now.”
“A person can’t just disappear. You’re not looking hard enough.” An unfair assessment, but he was so damn worried.
Marilyn didn’t respond to his sharp tone—if anything, her expression softened. “We’re doing our best.”
“It’s not good enough,” he snapped. Sam immediately regretted his tone and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should not have spoken to you that way. Please accept my apology.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. These are trying times. I’m not sure how you handle everything without losing your bloody mind.” Her gaze moved over his shoulder, toward the twins’ room. “If you need someone to look after the wee ones again, I am happy to.” The gruff older woman smiled, revealing crooked teeth. “Gems they are.”
Sam nodded. His spies had been helping with the children more often than not. “I’ll let you know if I need you. Keep your eyes and ears open. I’ll send your next assignment on the morrow.”
Marilyn nodded and left the room, the door clicking shut quietly behind her.
Sam stared blankly at the vanity. They had Jasmine. His wife. What was she going through? Bottles crashed to the floor, and he blinked at his hand. He’d just reacted. In rage. That hadn’t happened before.
He laced his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Losing his temper wouldn’t help Jasmine. He had to do better.
“Papa?” a little voice murmured.
It was like someone had punched him in the gut. Sam turned toward Ethan, who stood in the entryway to the twins’ room, sleepily rubbing his eyes. The little boy had called him Papa. His chest swelled with emotion, his throat clogged and heat built up behind his eyes. It wasn’t the first time the children had used the endearment, but it floored him every time.
“Yeah, little man?” he choked out.
Ethan yawned. “I heard a loud noise. It scared me.”
Sam swallowed and dropped to his knees in front of Ethan. He pulled his son into his arms and hugged him close. “I’m sorry. I promise to be more careful next time.”
“S’okay, papa,” Ethan whispered, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck.
Papa. “How about we get back to bed, huh?”
Ethan didn’t say anything when Sam scooped him up and moved through the doorway to the twins’ room. Toys littered the chamber, along with books stacked haphazardly and drawings pinned to the walls. His gaze snagged on one of Jas. Where are you?
Leaning down, he placed Ethan in his bed. He didn’t let go.
“Stay?” his son whispered.
Sam sniffled and smiled. “Of course.” He tucked Ethan in and then squeezed into the narrow bed, his hair no doubt tickling Sam’s nose, but the child didn’t move. The only time Sam had had even a modicum of peace since Jasmine’s disappearance was when he was with the twins.
He pressed a kiss to the top of Ethan’s head. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Papa.” A beat of silence. “I miss Mama.”
“I know, Ethan. So do I.”
“When will she come home?” Jade’s high-pitched voice asked. Her covers rustled, and then she was clambering over Sam’s side and wiggling in beside him.
“Soon, loves. Now go back to sleep.”
Jade grinned and peppered his cheek with kisses. “All right, Papa.”
The twins snuggled into the covers and quickly fell back asleep. Sam stared at their tiny faces.
“I promise to bring her back,” he whispered.
Ethan huffed and tossed his arm over Jade, his pointer finger poking her in the nose. Sam chuckled and moved his son’s hand. How did he get so damn lucky?
His arm went numb first, and a stitch cramped his side, but there wasn’t a torture in the world that would move him from his spot.
For now.
Tomorrow, he’d once again board a ship and wage war.
Fifteen
Sage
Sage stared at the exit to the tent long after Hayjen disappeared through the flap. It would be so easy to go back to the new infirmary. And do what? Stand around some more?
Stop being such a sissy, Sage.
She reluctantly turned toward her and Tehl’s chambers and frowned. Maybe he would be asleep? Sage shook her head. Facing angry men had never scared her before; she wouldn’t back down now.
With soft steps, she approached their section of the tent, her fingertips grazing the canvas flap. She hesitated. Sure, she and Tehl had disagreed many times before, but this time was different. The look of disappointment earlier that night had almost gutted her.
Get in there.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed through the flap, her heart racing as she spotted Tehl across the room, washing his face. She paused but forced her legs to move to the right side of the bed. He didn’t say anything or even acknowledge her presence as he used a rag to wash his bare chest and arms. It was like she was a doormat. Invisible and unimportant.
Slowly, Sage tugged off her boots and sodden wool socks. She wiggled her chilled toes and then tucked them under the edge of the bedcover to keep them warm. Her lips pursed as she stared at the rumpled bed. Under normal circumstances, she would have stripped and crawled right into bed, but that felt too much like giving in. The tension in the air was almost choking her. A fight was coming, and she needed to have the high ground, so to speak.
If Tehl would say anything.
She cleared her throat. He said nothing.
This was not the response she was expecting. Sage expected him to yell, curse, something. Maybe he hadn’t been pushed to the brink yet? Perhaps he wasn’t as angry as she suspected.
“Are you going to look at me?” she asked softly. There, that was nonconfrontational.
He ignored her and began cleaning the back of his neck.
Sage let him have his silence for a few moments and observed him struggling to clean his back. The stupid, stubborn man.
She rolled her eyes and crawled across the mattress. He said nothing as she took the lemon-and-pine smelling cloth from his hands and stood, then began to wash his back with tender strokes. His muscles twitched beneath her touch, but even as she kneaded his back, the tension never left his frame. He really wasn’t happy with her.
Her gaze darted down to the bed. It would be so easy to just climb in, turn her back on him, and go to sleep. Maybe they would both be more reasonable after a few hours of rest. A little time to cool down never hurt anyone.
Don’t let the sun set on your anger, her uncle had said.
Sage’s lips thinned. As much as she wanted to avoid this conversation, it wasn’t going away. It helped no one to go to bed angry. And it was a sure way to have a poor night of sleep and an even worse morning. If Tehl wouldn’t speak, then she needed to say something for the both of them.
She let her fingers wander upward and combed his damp, black locks with care, mulling over what to say. Sorry should be in there somewhere… but the problem was, she wasn’t very sorry. In fact, she felt irritated at his high-handedness. Tamping down her own feelings wasn’t easy, but one of them needed to be rational.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
Again, he said nothing, but he didn’t move away from her massaging hands. That was something, at least.
She pressed closer and leaned her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for not obeying you.”
Tehl stiffened and pulled away from her, his movements jerky. She wobbled as he slowly spun to face her, his expression like stone. “That’s what you think this is about?”
His voice held the chill of a bitter, winter wind. Sage shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with the rag. She hadn’t heard him use that tone since he’d threatened the rebels into giving her a choice in marrying him all those months ago. Unease skittered down her spine, not from fear, but because, for the first time, s
he couldn’t get a read on him.
“You commanded me to stay put, and I disobeyed,” she responded, hating that she felt like a child about to get reprimanded by a parent. “I’m sorry.”
“Unreal,” he breathed. His deep blue eyes narrowed as he studied her. “For someone so intelligent, you’re acting pretty stupid, and your apology needs some work.”
Sage bristled. If there was anything that could ignite her temper, it was the word stupid. Men liked to throw it around to make women feel inferior to them. The fact that he would use it now angered her to the point of wanting to slap him.
She forced herself to uncurl her fists, and exhaled slowly before answering him. She could do this. A little patience and understanding never hurt anyone. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from using that derogatory word when speaking to me.”
“And I would appreciate it if you listened for once.” He said it without any inflection—like he wasn’t spoiling for a fight.
Lies.
“I’m happy to listen,” she gritted out, “if you actually deemed to speak to me. You’ve barely said a word.” Sage eyed him. “Would you please accept my apology?”
He pinned his gaze over her shoulder and nodded once. “Fine.” Dismissing her, he kicked off his boots and began to unlace his leather pants.
Sage peered at him in confusion. It couldn’t have been that easy, and he’d used the F word. Every woman knew what the word fine meant in a fight. It meant everything was certainly not fine.
“You’re lying to me,” she accused.
Tehl stopped untying his pants and his gaze rose, meeting hers, a hint of blue fire heating his eyes. “You wish to speak to me about lying?”
She almost took a step back at the vehemence in his voice, but she stood her ground, despite the way her toes curled into the furs covering their bed. “I don’t lie to you, Tehl.” They’d promised to be honest to each other, and she kept her vow to the best of her ability.