by Frost Kay
“There was another attack.”
Her sleepiness visibly sloughed off, and she joined the group, circling the war table. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Zachael muttered.
Her emerald gaze studied the group before settling heavily on Tehl. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Just tell me.”
He nodded and forced the ugly truth from his mouth. “Bodies were found along the troop line.” He swallowed hard but continued. “Little bodies.”
Sage stiffened, her eyes darting to each of the grave expressions on the men’s faces.
“Children?” she asked raggedly.
Tehl nodded curtly. “The warlord targeted the young boys helping around camp, and those flying our banners.”
Sage staggered against the table and leaned on it for support. “How many?”
“More than ten is what we gather,” William whispered hoarsely. “Their bodies… It was difficult to guess.”
A tear dropped down his wife’s cheek. “He said this would happen.”
Chills ran down his spine. “The warlord?”
She nodded and dashed away a tear, just for another one to replace it. “He warned me.”
Tehl held his breath as he watched Sage wrestle with her feelings. She bowed her head and sniffled loudly. Hayjen placed a hand on the back of her neck, and Tehl looked at him gratefully. A good friend was hard to come by. He was appreciative that they had such support.
Sage drew in a deep breath and lifted her head, her jewel-like gaze meeting his own. “Where do we go from here?”
“Our first priority is to hit another ballista and hold on until Blair’s troops can arrive,” Tehl replied. “We may have a hard time pressing forward, but we won’t allow him any more ground.”
“How long until your troops arrive, commander?” his wife asked.
Blair answered, “A minimum of one to two weeks.”
“The warlord knew it would come to this.” Sage placed her elbows on the table and held her head. “Why am I surprised? We only have one choice.” She chuckled darkly and lifted her gaze.
Tehl narrowed his eyes. What was she going on about?
Sage smiled sharply. “It’s time I handed myself over to the warlord.”
Twenty-Three
Sage
Sage cradled her chin in her palms and watched emotionlessly as chaos and shouting erupted around her. All the while, she remained strangely calm. Once the words left her mouth, peace had settled over her. She wasn’t afraid, only resigned. Deep down, she knew it would come to this.
Her attention narrowed to the only two people not arguing or shouting.
Tehl and Blair.
She stared down her husband as he glared daggers at her. He may not shout and scream, but his icy anger affected her all the same. Sage didn’t dare look away. He’d fight her on this, it was clear.
Blair was a different story. He didn’t react, but she could see the calculation gleaming in his eyes. He understood the warlord better than anyone in the room. If he deemed it a valid idea, things would go much smoother in convincing the others.
“You will not sacrifice yourself to that monster,” snarled Rafe.
Sage arched a brow. He did not get a say in this. “Really? As much as I love you, don’t you think that’s a little like the pot calling the kettle black? How many times did you sacrifice me for the greater good?” She crossed her arms, and his mouth snapped shut. “I can see you plotting, commander.”
Blair cocked his head, his dark braids falling into his face. “And what exactly do you see?”
“A way to defeat the warlord once and for all.”
“And how do you suppose we do that? You’re skilled, but have you forgotten about the last time you dueled? You lost. How do you expect to win?” Zachael asked frankly.
She pulled the long chain from her shirt and held up the poison ring. She grinned at an unsmiling Hayjen. “I have it on good authority that this can take down a Scythian warrior, even one in a berserker rage.”
Her uncle’s face turned purple. “That’s for the average Scythian. That demon is not normal.”
“True, but it would slow him down. Perhaps enough to dispatch him.” Her gaze flickered to her silent husband doing his best imitation of stone. Tehl was not happy.
“You would risk your life for a maybe?” Rafe demanded.
“I would risk everything if it meant a real chance to rid our world of him.” Her statement seemed to sober the group, dousing some of their fire. She once again focused on Blair. “I have a sneaking suspicion that even if this poison did not work, a concoction better suited to destroy the warlord would make itself available.” Sage hadn’t forgotten about the poison ring Maeve had gifted her when she escaped Scythia. She’d bet the warlord’s sister had more things up her sleeve than anyone knew about.
Blair arched a brow in return. “I have no such skills, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
“I’m sure. Your skills lie in combat. We both know a person with exceptional skills for deception, and a hatred that encompasses both our own.”
“All of you, get out,” Tehl said softly, his tone so wintery it brought goosebumps to her arms. “I need to speak with my wife privately.”
She held his gaze evenly as the council glanced between them, before silently filing out. She waited thirty seconds before speaking. “My plan is valid.”
He said nothing.
“I know you don’t like this.” She took a deep breath.
“You know nothing of how I feel,” he said, his voice whisper-soft. “If you did, you’d never have suggested such an idiotic, haphazard plan.”
“It hasn’t been rounded out yet,” she admitted. “But it’s the only chance we have left.”
“How can you say that?” He pointed toward the wall. “There’s an army fighting for us, and they have reinforcements on the way. There are choices.”
“And how long can they keep up?”
“We’re doing our best!” He placed his palms on the table, his attention locked on the positions of the two armies.
“I know,” she said calmly. “But it’s not enough.”
Tehl sucked in a sharp breath.
Sage edged around the table and laid her right hand on top of his. “I know you can see it. We’ve had our triumphs, but they are not enough. Soon, they’ll pin us against the mountains if we don’t do something.”
“If only we could destroy the last three war machines,” he growled.
“That would be a miracle.” Sage reached out gently and touched his chin. He faced her, his expression grave. “Your men have succeeded at wrecking two ballistae, but at what cost? You never said how bad it was the first time, but I saw the haunted look on your face. You almost died out there.” Tehl didn’t deny it. “The second time, we almost lost Gav.” They still could, but she couldn’t think about that.
“Part of the Methian army is useless because of those war machines.” He looked away from her, his jaw working. “We need to get them into the air.”
“I can help.”
Her husband shook his head. “By handing yourself over to the warlord?”
Her stomach flipped, but she tamped it down. “The only reason you’re so angry is because you know I’m right.” Tehl glanced at her sharply. Sage popped up onto her toes and cupped his cheeks. She smiled and ran her thumbs along his cheekbones. “Even if I can’t kill him, my arrival would be enough of a distraction for your men to reach the other catapults.”
He stared at her for a long time, his deep blue eyes serious. “I hate this.”
“I know,” she whispered, her smile trembling.
“How can I possibly allow you to go back?” he rasped. “It’s not right. Everything inside me is screaming to snatch you up and run in the opposite direction. You’re not safe there.”
“True.” She wouldn’t lie to him. “But I’m not safe now. Every day that I march onto the battlefield could be my last. Life is not guaranteed.”
“He’s a different kind of danger.”
That was an understatement. “I won’t be alone. Blair will look out for me.”
Tehl scoffed. “As much as he did in Scythia? You returned a mess.”
Sage traced his cheekbone and ignored the need to be defensive. Her husband was worried for her. “I would have suffered at the hand of other monsters as well if he hadn’t stepped in. I know where he stands. Things won’t be easy, but he won’t let me die.”
He cocked his head and brushed a lock of hair from her face. Sage kissed his palm and gazed up at him, soaking in the love and anguish that was shining through the cracks in his mask.
“How are you so calm about this?” he asked quietly.
That was something she didn’t even understand. “I don’t know. When you told me what happened, it was as if everything quieted around me. It makes it easier to focus on what needs to be done.” She pressed her lips together. “What happened tonight can’t happen again.”
Tehl nodded. “My chest hurts when I think of it.”
“I know, love.” Sage pulled him into a hug and wrapped her arms around his wide chest. Tehl squeezed her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “That’s why I need to go. I’m the only person who can give you a chance to destroy all three of the machines.” She shrugged as her gaze went distant. “Maybe I’ll be able to cut him down in one fell swoop.”
His arms tightened. “Will you sneak away in the night if I forbid you from doing this?”
Sage mulled it over. “I wouldn’t, but you and I both know you forbidding me from doing this would be the wrong choice. Look past your emotions. Strategically, you know this is right move.” She pulled back and peered up into his face. “I want your support. I can’t do this without you.”
“Are you sure you can go back?”
No, but it was what needed to be done. “I imagine it will be the most difficult thing I have ever done.” She paused. “But if it saves our people and others from a fate similar to mine, I’ll pay whatever price. I can do it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“You know better than I, that with privilege comes responsibility. I chose to marry you. I meant my vows when I said I would fight for the good of Aermia and sacrifice whatever was needed. If you were in the same position, we both know the decision would already be made.”
“I can’t ask this of you.”
“You’re not asking me. I’m volunteering. I would feel better going into this if I knew I had you on my side.”
Tehl leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. “I am always on your side.”
Her bottom lip trembled at the passionate declaration. “I love you.”
“As I love you.”
She laced her right hand with his and pulled him toward their chambers. “All the details don’t need to be set in stone tonight. Come to bed and hold me.”
Sage squeaked when he lunged and swept her into his arms. Her eyes widened when he stooped low and kissed her heatedly. Her tongue tangled with his as he pushed through the tent flap.
“If you must go,” he growled. “I want the taste of you on my lips.”
Twenty-Four
Mer
Mer hurtled through the water toward the human body sliding through the current. She grabbed Sam beneath the arms and hauled him to the surface, gasping as the painful change overtook her. Her body expelled sea water, and her lungs inflated as a sharp spray of water hit her face, stinging her eyes and cheeks.
She kicked her legs to keep them both afloat, her eyes darting to Sam’s pale face. How long had he been under? “Come on, Sam. Hold on!”
His ship released a heavy groan and creaked under the stress of the howling wind. Punishing waves tossed them about the sea, but she kept his face above the waves. Just barely. Fatigue threatened to overtake her, but Mer kept pushing on. He would not die.
The spymaster in her arms coughed and threw up the seawater he’d swallowed as he tried to fill his lungs with air.
“That’s it,” she murmured. “Breathe. We’re almost there.”
Mer held his arm, keeping his head above the water as she shifted in front of him, his body pressed against her back. Another wave crashed over them, but she managed to swim back to the surface. She pulled his trembling arms around her neck.
“Don’t let go,” she shouted over the roar of the winds.
Sam mumbled something incoherent, but his grip tightened on her as another rolling wave tried to tear them apart. From the surface, the sea looked black; the only shocks of color were the foaming white tips of the dangerous waves trying to suck them down.
“Damn it,” Sam bit out. His nails scratched her collarbone as he clutched her shoulders tighter.
Mer kicked her legs back and forth to keep the two of them afloat and scanned the turbulent ocean, spotting their ships. “We’re close.” She caught the sight of a few fiilee in the sky battling the winds. “Wicked hell.” Mer said a quick little prayer for the survival of their riders
She made certain Sam’s arms were secured around her before she swam toward the ship. It seemed to take ages. When her fingers curled around the ladder soaked with saltwater that hung from the side of the ship, she sighed. They’d made it.
Hand over hand, Mer hauled herself and Sam up the ladder, her muscles bunched and flexed, the burn heating her blood. Her foot slipped, but she gritted her teeth and found her balance, Sam’s limbs wrapped around her. Finally, they reached the top of the ship. Mer sucked in lungfuls of air, and Sam rolled from her back, eyes glazed over.
The Lure.
“It’s a good thing you’re too weak to chase me,” she wheezed.
Mer wiggled away from him and called out to the crew, who were shouting and rushing about on the deck. Her melodious voice cut through the wind and rain like a magic spell, just enough to be heard. A young sailor boy caught sight of her and rushed forward. She held her hands out to keep him away. If he caught a whiff of her Lure, he’d be no use to Sam.
An older man grabbed the boy by the back of the shirt and yanked him backward. “Don’t be dumb, boy. Remember the Lure.”
Mer inched farther away from Sam, so his men could pull him from the edge of the ship without having to worry about her scent snaring them. The ship groaned, and the waves slammed against the sides. She wrapped her arms and legs around the bars of the guardrail while she caught her breath. Her gut twisted as Sam’s fellow sailors and Elite dragged their spymaster somewhere safe. Shouts of gratitude were lost in the winds, and she waved them away. Hopefully, he’d recover well. When he’d been pitched from the ship, she’d sworn her heart had stopped.
It was a lucky thing she’d found him when she had.
Her heart slowed, and her breathing evened out. She wanted to crawl into a hole and sleep to regain her strength, but every moment she dallied was another life lost. Mer was preparing to throw herself back into the water when a fiilee dove from the sky. The feline landed on the nearest Aermian ship, its rider sliding from its wet back in one smooth movement.
The Methian prince Raziel.
She’d know his wine-colored hair anywhere. Her lips parted. She’d heard of the handsome Methian prince, and had even caught glimpses of him in the last several weeks as he launched aerial attacks on the Scythian fleet, but she’d never been this close to him. Her gaze narrowed when the fiilee flared its wings and knocked two Scythian warriors from the ship. Raziel launched an attack, and she cursed, noting that the ship wasn’t just fighting the storm, but Scythians. How had the bastards boarded it in this weather? She’d barely managed it.
Lightning lit up the night sky, as if the storm wanted Mer to have a better look at the hulking prince. Raziel. His clothing was soaking wet, clinging to his body, and the sharp lines of his face twisted with effort as he fought with a dark figure. They turned, and she got a good look at his adversary.
Ream.
The chill of the wind and the spray of icy water disappeared, and Mer forgo
t where she was and what was happening. All she could do was stare at the familiar shock of white, braided hair filled with pearls and shells she’d given him on their bonding day. Her brain couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Why was Raziel attacking Ream? Ream was on their side!
The thunder rumbled, and lightning illuminated the sky above the maudlin scene. She blinked in confusion, and her breath caught as she realized the Methian prince carried a sword, the side broader than her arm and nearly as long as her legs. Mer lurched to her feet, her fingers digging into the wet handrail.
“Stop!” she yelled. What the bloody hell was happening?
Raziel hefted the sword and swung. Mer screamed, her sound of fear and anguish lost to the storm. Ream managed to roll out of the way and launched toward the Methian prince, sinking his blade into Raziel’s back.
“No!” she whispered.
A heavy creak preceded a fresh burst of shouts as the mast on the other ship gave way. Raziel whipped his sword and jabbed backward, stumbling toward the ship’s side. Ream’s mouth opened in a silent shout before the two men pitched over the edge of the ship into the waiting arms of the sea.
Horror rose inside her. Not Ream!
Her mind screamed at her to move, to do something, but she couldn’t. She was frozen. The air seemed to be cut off from her lungs. Shivers began to wrack her body.
Raziel had attacked her husband.
“Move!” Sam’s familiar voice bellowed.
She glanced over her shoulder as the blond prince stormed toward her, his steps surprisingly even as the ship rolled on the waves.
“Mer!” he barked. “Bring him back.”
Still, she didn’t move. Ream had stabbed the Methian prince. It didn’t make sense.
Sam seized her by both arms and shook her, his blue eyes dark. “I need you to bring him back.”
“Ream?” she whispered.