by Frost Kay
His hands clenched into fists at his side, the first show of emotion. “You looked me in the face and smiled as if agreeing with me to help those who needed it and then, as soon as my back was turned, waded into the fray.”
“I never said I wouldn’t do that,” she pointed out. He’d just assumed she would obey him.
“That’s splitting hairs and you know it. You should have listened.”
“I’m your wife and your partner. I’m not a subordinate to be ordered around.”
“You are so blind!” he growled.
“Then tell me what I’m not seeing!” What was he getting at? She was trying to make things better.
“It’s not about obedience,” he said raggedly. “Do you know what I felt when I got out of the fire with the last living man? As I lay him on the ground, I was thankful none of my family had been in there. I felt guilty that I would get to sleep next to my wife while others would never know the love of their women again.” His gaze darkened. “But then, I couldn’t find you. No one knew where you were.” He raked a hand through his hair and then stabbed an accusing finger at her. “When I rounded the burning infirmary and Gav told me you were still inside…” His voice broke. “I… I couldn’t breathe, and I wanted to be inside the fire with you.”
Sage’s bottom lip trembled at the emotion pouring out of her husband.
She was stupid.
It wasn’t about her disobeying. It was about the danger. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that…”
“When you were taken into Scythia, that wasn’t your fault. I managed, because I knew who to punish for my pain and anguish. It wasn’t your choice to leave. But this time, you chose to go into that fire without any regard for my feelings.”
A tear dropped onto her cheek. Was it just yesterday that she thought Tehl had died in battle? How could she forget how that felt? Inadvertently, she’d caused this pain for him.
“How would you feel if I disregarded your feelings and got myself killed? Do you know why I didn’t want you to go into the fire, other than the obvious?”
She shook her head. It was only fair to let him have his say. It was better for her to stay silent and let him get it all out.
“Most of the wounded were men.” He paced at the foot of the bed and shot her a glare. “Not that you can’t hold your own in a fight, but do you think you could have slung a grown man over your shoulder and hauled him out? No, Sage. You couldn’t have, not without endangering him, yourself, and everyone else around you because of your petite frame.”
That rankled her, but she let it slide when he fully faced her, destruction and sorrow clear on his face.
“I thought you’d died. For five minutes, I believed I would have to walk this road alone, and I imagined every horror you would’ve suffered.”
“I’m okay,” she whispered and took a small step toward him.
He held up his hand and then dropped to his haunches, both of his hands pulling at his midnight waves, his gaze distant. “I can’t bear this.” His haunted eyes rose to her face. “I can’t deal with the emotions. It’s too much. I can’t live like this. How am I to survive it?”
Her stomach flipped, and she dropped the rag, took three careful steps to the end of the bed, and knelt. She’d done this. Tehl allowed her to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a hug.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, guilt churning in her belly. Tonight had been a close call. Death had crept too close. “I should have listened.” She should have. But, even in her heart, she knew she’d do it again if it meant saving her friends.
He tipped his head back and scanned her face. “I know you’re sorry, but we’re going to be in this position again.”
She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. “It’s possible.”
Tehl cocked his head and brushed his thumb across her cheek, catching one loose tear. “I hate emotions. How am I to bear all of this without turning into a madman?” he asked hoarsely. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’ll turn into my father.”
Sage wanted to cry, but she held herself together. “I guess you have to ask yourself if the good outweighs the bad?”
He pushed to his feet, slipped his hand behind her neck, and tipped her head back. She stood, ashamed tears streaming down her face.
“Love isn’t easy,” he rumbled.
“No, it isn’t.”
“There’s no going back.”
“Not for me,” Sage whispered. “There’s no one else but you for me.”
“Until death do us part.”
It was a grave, dark statement that resonated in her soul.
She wasn’t sure who moved first, but all she knew was that she needed to be in his arms. Tehl’s lips crushed hers, fierce and demanding. He wasn’t gentle or careful. He kissed her like it was his last chance to ever touch her. Sage threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with the same urgency. Who knew what tomorrow held?
Her hands fisted in his hair, and she parted her lips, inviting him in. Warmth swept through her middle as he deepened the kiss. His fingers slid down the sensitive skin of her neck, catching on her soiled linen shirt. He snarled and released her for a moment, then tore the worn shirt straight down the center. Sage jerked back and stared at him wide-eyed. That was new.
Cool air teased her belly, and a shiver worked through her at how his gaze burned through her. It was like he was devouring her with his eyes. Observing him closely, she shrugged her shoulders, and the tattered linen fluttered to the mattress along with her modesty.
“I’m sorry,” she said genuinely. Tonight, she’d deeply hurt him. Sage shakily drew in a breath. “I’m so sorry.” More tears blurred her vision. “I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt you on purpose.”
“No, no tears,” he whispered.
His hand curled around the back of her neck, and he pulled her mouth to his once again. His lips trailed lower, nipping at her chin, then her neck, his tongue tracing the salt of her tears.
His fingers slid down the sides of her neck and over her shoulders, his mouth never leaving hers. She gasped when he pulled her hard against him, his hands finding the soft skin behind her knees. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he pushed her onto the bed. She squeaked as he came down on top of her, his weight pressing her into the furs. The rasp of his stubble against her neck arched her off the bed, and she dug her nails into his shoulders.
“Don’t ever do this to me again,” he said gruffly. Teeth grazed the twisted scars around her throat, a teasing bite that threatened and tempted. “Spare my soul the anguish.”
How she wished she could give such a promise. “I’ll do my damnedest to never hurt you.”
He growled. “I guess that will do.” His hands slid down her sides in feverish need and paused on her hips, ever the gentleman.
Sage clasped the sides of his face and forced him to look her squarely in the eye. “I love you.”
His eyes burned like a blacksmith’s forge, the heat blistering her scarred soul. “As I you, even when you tear my heart from my chest.” He had the power to shatter her. “But it’s worth the pain,” he breathed. The power to make her whole once again, too.
Sage kissed him eagerly, her hands sliding up his chest where she could feel the frantic rhythm of his heart beneath her palms. Tehl shackled her wrists and pinned them above her head. A flicker of unease washed over her, but his hard lips were there, capturing hers, ravenous and brutal. He tasted divine—like sin and redemption rolled into one. His kiss didn’t just steal her breath, for he owned, possessed, and punished her.
For once, there was nothing but Tehl and herself. Two halves that created a whole. All thoughts disappeared when his hand slid between the furs and the naked small of her back, pressing her harder against him, like he could imprint himself on her skin, like he was trying to make sure she was still with him.
Sage bit his bottom lip and his lips parted, his gaze becoming distant.
“Devilish woman,” he hissed.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Beastly man,” she taunted. “Don’t think you can handle it?”
His lips curled away from his teeth in a dark smile, and something hard and predatory slid over his face. “Be careful what you ask for, love. The beast might eat you all up.”
Her smile was devious as she crooked a finger at him. “I’ll take that gamble.”
Sixteen
Mira
Mira tugged the blanket higher over the shivering soldier and forced herself to walk away. He was lost to pain and a high fever. There wasn’t anything more she could do for him.
Her feet dragged as she moved down the center aisle, scanning her patients as she drifted toward her herb station where the queen sat idly, brewing willow bark to help with the fevers. The Methian royal had been a godsend. Without her help, Mira doubted most of the men would have made it through the night. She rubbed at her eyes with her good hand and stumbled a step, her right hand knocking against the nearest tent support. Gasping, she clutched her right hand to her chest as colored spots splashed across her vision. The ground seemed to roll, and she lurched sideways as pain pulsed up her arms in waves. Her left foot caught on a worn rug, and Mira braced herself for the horrible fall. Huge hands curled around her biceps and steadied her. Dazedly, she looked up, way up into the face of Raziel, the Methian crown prince.
She opened her mouth to say thank you, but all that came out was a hoarse groan.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a deep timbre.
Was she? Nausea slammed into her, and she tried to jerk away as bile flooded her mouth. “Gonna be sick,” she wheezed before puking. With every heave, jerk, and twitch, more pain flooded her body. By the time she came out of it, Raziel had placed her on a cot and had a bucket on her lap.
Mira leaned her cheek against the wooden edge of the bucket and took shallow breaths, the warrior’s scent curling around her comfortingly. A large hand stroked her braid and rubbed small circles on her upper back. How embarrassing. Not the vomiting, because in truth, sickness was a part of life, but the fact she wasn’t trying to get rid of Raziel. It was so bloody nice to have someone care for her, even if it was for five minutes.
She cracked one eye and gave the prince a silly smile. “Haven’t run away screaming yet?”
He returned hers with a devastatingly handsome grin. “And miss the chance to hold your golden hair from your beautiful face? Never.”
“You, good sir, are a pretty liar.”
“And you, lovely healer, are too sick to be out of bed, let alone working.” His expression turned serious. “You’re to the point of collapse. When was the last time you slept?”
Sucking on her bottom lip, she debated lying to him, but the Methians had an uncanny way of knowing when a person lied. It was better to be truthful. “Since before the fire.”
Raziel’s eyes narrowed into golden slits that reminded her of the way Nali stared at rodents before she pounced on them. Thank the stars for the blessed feline. Mira hadn’t spotted any mice at all.
“You mean to tell me you haven’t slept in almost two days?” Raziel demanded.
She closed her eyes in an attempt to ignore the censure on his face. “What am I supposed to do? They need me.” A calloused finger touched the delicate skin beneath her right eye. She flinched and opened her eyes.
“You’re a healer, are you not?” he cajoled.
“A tired one,” she said, trying to make a joke. He didn’t crack a smile.
“So, you know how the body needs sleep to heal. You’re doing yourself and these men a disservice when you don’t care for yourself.”
“Let me ask you a question,” she said roughly, her voice still rusty from the smoke inhalation. “If they were your men, would you rest when you knew they needed you? When they suffered and you could alleviate that pain?” His silence answered her question. “I swore an oath when I took up this profession. I will do everything in my power to help them.”
Raziel surprised her and brushed a stray hair from her cheek. Her chest warmed at the sweet gesture, but she shoved it down deep. He was just being nice. She’d seen how he acted with women in general. Plus, he was a prince and she a commoner.
“Beauty as well as intelligence, compassion, and loyalty. The day you were born must have been something special.”
Heat filled her cheeks. “Save your sweet words for someone who will believe them,” she retorted.
It was in moments like this that she loved and hated the most. Since she’d come to the battlefront as a healer, Raziel had slowly inserted himself in her life. It started out as little things, but now she looked forward to his visits and conversations every day. It was stupid of her, really. He meant nothing by it, but it was the first time a man had looked at her without the stain of her past or judged her for entering a predominantly male profession.
“You don’t believe I think you’re one of a kind?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.
“I think you love women. With your charm, I’m sure you make all of us feel like royalty,” she murmured, her pain slowly fading to a dull throb.
“You know, in my culture, you don’t have to be royalty to be considered royal. It all comes down to your actions. Believe me when I say that you could be anyone’s queen.”
Such pretty words said in earnest. “You flatter me,” she huffed. Mira slowly sat up and glanced over her shoulder to break the tension that was building between them. If she wasn’t careful, he’d steal her heart before she knew it. “Your mother looks like she’s almost finished. I should help her.”
Raziel pulled the bucket from her lap and placed it on the floor, never flinching at the sloshing contents within it. He straightened and shocked her by cupping her right cheek. “You can pretend all you want, Mira, but you and I both know there is something here.”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve known me for a handful of weeks.”
“We don’t court like you Aermians do. We judge a mate by their fortitude, loyalty, and caring nature. Spending time in your presence has taught me that you’re by far one of the best people I’ve ever had the privilege of spending time with. Normally, courting couples come to an understanding and then one kidnaps the other.”
“Kidnapping is not okay.” All she could see were Sage’s haunted eyes and the thorn-adorned collar around her bloody throat. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, pulling Mira back to the present.
“I understand your reservations, which is why I have moved slowly.”
“Slowly?” she whispered. “Slowly is a six year courtship.”
Raziel’s nose wrinkled. “Why would anyone agree to that? Our time on this earth isn’t guaranteed. Why waste time living it without those you love?”
“That’s the point of courtship—it’s to make sure you really love them. Marriage is forever.”
He dropped his hand. “What you speak of is attraction and infatuation. Love grows over years of time spent together, or child rearing. Why would anyone base their relationship off infatuation? That’s the perfect way to ensure an unhappy union.”
She must have been more exhausted than she thought, because the damn Methian was starting to make sense. Perhaps she would take a bloody nap. It wouldn’t be long until her body gave up on her.
“So, what are you really getting at?”
Raziel brushed a wine-colored braid from his face and leveled a determined look at her, filled with promise. “I am going to pursue you, my golden one.”
A startled laugh escaped her. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t understand my words. You know exactly what I mean.” He leaned closer, his golden eyes twinkling. “I intend to make you my mate, Mira. Even if that means courting you the Aermian way.”
“You’re joking,” she muttered.
“I am not. I wouldn’t joke about mates.”
“I’m not going to marry you,” Mira said bluntly, even as her traitorous heart skipped a blasted beat.
“I’m not aski
ng.” A devilish look. “Yet.”
Mira rolled her eyes. She had to be hallucinating. Maybe she had passed out and her overactive imagination had spun out of control. Raziel touched her chin and leaned so close that she held her breath. Stars, he better not try to kiss her. She’d just puked. He brushed his nose along hers.
“Seek your bed soon, or I will have to take measures into my own hands.” With that last comment, he stood and strode out of the infirmary.
Mira stared after him in shock and confusion. Did that really just happen? She stood on wobbly legs and turned toward the herb table. The queen had a hip leaned against the table and her very familiar golden eyes focused on Mira.
“Run while you can, my dear. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Until what?” she found the courage to ask.
“Until he captures you.”
Seventeen
Sage
The blasted rain made everything harder.
Sage shivered as cold droplets slipped down her neck, to her already soaked shirt. The linen chafed against her skin. She swiped the rain from her brow and blinked, searching the battlefield for Zachael. Steam rose from the wet earth, and fog hovered in the distance. The fog was a blessing and a curse. It gave them more cover, but it also hid their enemies.
Her boots slurped as the mud tried desperately to hold her in place as she slogged forward. Rafe panted at her side, his amber eyes constantly scanning the area for an immediate attack. The wind whipped through the chilly air, and she shivered as it moved right through her. Stars above, she hated the bloody cold.
The former rebellion leader cast a quick glance in her direction. “We need to turn back.”
“No, we’ve gained ground.”
“Only because the warlord is letting us.” Rafe tensed. “Incoming.”
Sage hefted her sword higher, her damp fingers slipping on the pommel for one second. That wasn’t good. Her stomach bottomed out as six Scythian warriors materialized through the mist.