by Frost Kay
“Where does that lead?” she asked. No one answered. Wherever it was, it was not somewhere she wanted to be.
One by one, they entered the black hole and disappeared. A calloused hand wrapped around her bicep. She winced at the tight hold and leaned away from its owner.
“Don’t cause trouble or you’ll regret it,” Rhys threatened.
Her skin prickled at his proximity, and her heart galloped. He was unhinged; it was boiling right under the surface. Sage dipped her head in what she hoped was a respectful way, and wished he would release her throbbing arm.
“Good.”
Sage blinked back into the present. Was it an entrance to another city? Surely, there couldn’t be one so close to the Aermian border? One thing was for sure, she wasn’t going inside. Her gut told her that if she entered that cave, she’d never leave it.
The warlord cut her off and moved toward a platform she hadn’t noticed. Obediently, she followed him, searching the area for any clues as to what was going on. Her lips thinned as she spotted a pole standing in the ring with chains. Did they plan to beat her in sight of all the men? She squared her shoulders. What were a few more scars to replace the ones that had already disappeared?
Her boots thumped up three slick, wooden stairs onto the dais, ice crunching beneath her feet. The warlord moved to a black, stone throne with a dragon carved at the top. He attached her chains to the bottom of the throne and wordlessly faced her.
Sage froze and stared back at him. This was where their battle truly began.
He wanted to break her. Sage refused to be broken. She would bend, but she wouldn’t break. Not for him. Not for anyone.
The warlord sat in his throne, his dark gaze pinned to her. He pointed to his lap “Sit.”.
Her jaw tightened. Sage took slow steps in his direction and halted next to the stone monstrosity, then sank to her knees, head bowed. The chill from the snow seeped through her pants. From the outside, it looked like she was humbly serving the sovereign. In truth, it was a battle of wills. He was a proud demon. It was only smart to push him so far, especially with his men looking on.
Sage flinched when his hand touched the top of her head. His fingers caressed her ear, then ran along the edge of her jaw. He put gentle pressure on her chin, and she tipped her head back. The warlord leaned closer, his hair falling around his face, creating a curtain of sorts, so all she could see was his proud, ethereal face.
“Do you know why we are here?”
“Because I attacked you.”
“No.”
“No?” she echoed, surprised.
“It’s been some time since we spent time with each other. I need you to understand the gravity of your actions. I want to protect you from mistakes that will make our lives difficult.”
She slowly blinked at the use of the word our. There was no our, but she kept that thought to herself.
He released her chin and nodded at someone over her head.
“Get your filthy hands off me!” growled a familiar male voice.
No.
She glanced over her shoulder and bit back her denial. William. The old general looked like hell. The Scythians dragged him through the circle and chained him to the post. He cursed at the warriors and leaned heavily on his right leg. Every inch of his exposed skin was covered in cuts and bruises, both his eyes were black, and his lip had been split.
“William will suffer for your actions,” the warlord murmured.
Sage briefly closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. Why did it have to be her friends? She faced the warlord and lifted her hands to his knee. “Please,” she begged. “Take me instead.”
He caressed her cheek, looking at her tenderly. “This pains me as much as it pains you. I’m sorry, but I must do what is best for you. You must learn your place.” He straightened and stared over her head. “Watch, or I will be forced to drag it out.”
Bile burned the back of her throat, and she almost puked right there. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she pivoted on her knees and faced her friend. William shouted slurs and insults until he caught sight of her.
Aermia’s commander lost some of his color. “No.”
Tears blurred her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
William shook his head, his eyes sad. “Nothing for it.” He gave her a small smile. “Don’t stop fighting.”
Sage swallowed down her tears.
“Enough,” the warlord said, his hand landing on her left shoulder.
William’s gaze narrowed. “In my country, touching another man’s wife can be a death penalty.”
“You know nothing,” the warlord said simply. “Call it.”
It?
A warrior pulled a horn from his belt and blew. A haunting sound echoed around them. Nothing happened for several moments until two warriors on each side of the clearing pressed heavy levers. The snow began to move, and two enormous chains emerged from the earth. Sage’s pulse ratcheted up a notch as a groan came from the ground and the chains began to be pulled in their direction, disappearing into the ground. A coiling mechanism? All thought fled when a hiss came from the cave. The hair at the nape of her neck rose.
Green reflective eyes appeared in the darkness of the cave right before an emerald, scaled beast moved into the light.
A dragon.
It looked nothing like the one she’d come across when fleeing Scythia. This poor beast was covered in scars so deep that his scales looked like they’d cracked. Her heart squeezed when the base of his wings flared slightly. His wings had been completely hacked off, just leaving bony stumps at the base of the beast’s sinuous neck. An immense collar circled his neck as he crept from his cage, his hostile gaze darting around the meadow. Warriors edged the clearing with crossbows and wicked-looking spears.
Sage looked over her shoulder. The warlord stood from his throne, his thigh brushing her shoulder. “William of Aermia, you have been accused of murder, espionage, and are deemed a traitor to the Scythian throne.”
William didn’t blink but instead laughed, pulling the dragon’s attention to his chained body. The older man shook his head, then glared defiantly at the warlord. “You’re the traitor. You’ll never rule the kingdoms. There will always be those who fight against your tyranny.” He dismissed the warlord and met Sage’s stare. “Be strong, love. Don’t look.”
It was like his words released a dam inside her. Sage lurched to her feet and jerked forward, the cuffs biting into her skin. An inhuman scream came from her throat when William turned to face the dragon that was now right behind him.
“No,” she wailed, fighting to get loose. Her friend couldn’t die. She couldn’t sit here and do nothing. The dragon and man studied each other for several seconds before the obviously starving beast lunged. The rushing of waves filled her ears, and her skin flashed hot then cold.
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
Sage dropped to her knees, tears falling down her cheeks.
Just like that, William was gone forever.
She bowed her head, her body shaking with silent sobs. He’d been one of the first to accept her into the council when Tehl had proposed she join them. William had always supported her. He was her friend.
The dragon hissed.
Lifting her head, Sage watched as the Scythian warriors corralled the starving, scarred dragon back into the cave. For once, she let every ounce of hatred show in her expression, not for the beast, but for the men. They were the reason the animal had been reduced to these dire circumstances. The dragon hadn’t killed her friend. The warlord had.
The dragon roared when a spear struck its underbelly.
Nausea swamped over her. Sage bent forward and placed a hand on the icy dais to catch her breath as saliva flooded her mouth. The cruelty was disgusting.
The beast released another pained, mournful cry that tugged on her soul.
Without meaning to, Sage began to hum her mother’s lullaby softly while she got herself under control. When she
lifted her head, the dragon had stopped struggling and was focused on her.
His emerald eyes clashed and held her own. She felt a kindred spirit with the dragon. We are both scarred but not broken. He will never break us. I will free you.
Sage pulled herself to her feet and turned away from the dragon, refusing to look at the warlord as he unclasped her chains from the throne. She moved to the edge of the platform without a word. Sage paused at the top, the chains tightening between them.
The warlord peered up at her, a brow lifted. “Something on your mind?”
She smiled at him. “I was thinking you look good dressed in blood.”
He returned her smile. “I forgot how amusing you are.”
She wouldn’t be so amusing when she danced on his grave.
Forty-Two
Sage
Sage’s moment of rage had passed and grief had replaced it.
Silent tears had turned to full-on sobs as the warlord led her through the forest, back toward the camp. The warriors kept casting glances in her direction, but she didn’t care. Shame had no place here. William deserved to be mourned. Another ugly sob wracked her body, and she halted, not able to move another step. She turned in the direction of the meadow.
I’m sorry.
How she wished she could have done something more.
“Leave us,” the warlord commanded softly.
She was acutely aware of how the men melted into the forest, not one sound betraying their movements. Strong arms wrapped around Sage from behind and gently pulled her against a wide chest. Sage trembled with banked rage but didn’t attack. She had to choose her moment.
“He’s gone, and there’s nothing to be done about it,” the warlord whispered. “It will be okay.” His words did nothing to soothe her, and her stomach rolled when he ran his hand along her tangled mass of hair. “I’m so sorry.”
That was the final straw. He didn’t get to hold her and pretend he cared. He was the murderer, the monster. She lifted her hands and raked her nails down his forearms.
The warlord hissed and released her. Sage scrambled forward, determined to put space between their bodies. The monster jerked her chains, sending her sprawling to the ground. Sage squeaked as she landed on her belly.
Bastard.
Her fingers dusted the ground and curled around a rock just as he bridged the gap between them. Sage rose to her knees and swung, but he caught her manacled wrist easily, his thumb digging into the tender underside of her wrist.
“Let the stone go.”
Sage gritted her teeth, refusing to release the stone. She’d never willingly give him anything he wanted ever again.
The warlord sighed and brutally squeezed her wrist.
Pain ricocheted through her fingers, and she dropped the rock. He hauled her from the ground and looped the excess chain around her arms. Sage cursed and struggled to get away as he pulled her close.
“He’s gone, wild one.”
“Because of you,” she spat, leaning so far back that her spine cracked.
“He was an old man. It was only a matter of time before he departed this earth,” he reasoned, like death by a starved animal was a natural course of life. “He died a warrior’s death. There’s honor in that. I wanted to give you that much.”
Her jaw sagged, and she shook her head, hardly believing what she was hearing. The warlord looked at her with sympathy that she wanted to destroy. The sudden silence became stifling, so much so that she felt as if she were going to drown in it.
“You need to let me go,” she murmured, bile flooding her mouth. His calloused hands on her skin made her nauseated. He released her just as she pitched forward and vomited onto spiny plants to her right. Tears rushed down her cheeks and dropped onto the dirt as she heaved.
How many more would die by his hand? How could someone survive the wounds she’d given him? Why hadn’t the poison worked? Would she be stuck here forever? Sage heaved again at the thought.
The warlord’s hand touched her shoulder, but she shrugged it away with a whimper. William told her to fight. She was trying her best, but every time she stood up to him, the monster knocked her down again. Her stomach lurched again, and she emptied the last of its contents onto the forest floor. Tears and snot ran down her face.
The warlord squatted beside her and brushed her hair out of her face. Sage refused to look at him.
“If only you had listened to me,” he lamented, his voice filled with sadness and regret. “I hate that you’re in so much pain, but you left me no choice. This hurts me as much as it hurts you. Do you think I wanted things to go this way? You brought this on us, on that man. If only you had been obedient, you could have spared him.”
His words sucked the air from her lungs, and all the guilt she’d buried, from everyone she’d lost, rose to the surface with acute anguish. She slapped him as hard as she could, her chains rattling.
The warlord hissed and slowly lifted a hand to his cheek. “You’re in pain, so I’ll forgive you for that today. Don’t ever strike me again, or you won’t like what happens next.”
His softly whispered words caused chills to run up and down her spine. Sage’s chest heaved in and out when he removed his hand and she got a good look at the nail marks on his right cheek. She’d marked him just as he’d done to her. The scars around her neck pulsed in memory of the pain he had bestowed upon her.
“You deserved it,” she said. He cocked his head, but she ignored him, wiping her mouth. She leaned onto her heels. “There’s nothing in you that is good, is there?”
His dark eyes leveled on hers. “Disobedience cannot be tolerated.” A pause. “No matter how much I love you, I can’t let this go. His life is the price you paid for your rebellion.”
Love?
Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes. “Love? This is how you treat the ones you love?” Even speaking about love with this creature made her nausea return tenfold. “You know nothing of love!” She forced her legs to stand.
The warlord stood, towering over her. He tipped his head and leaned closer. “I’ve been through this before. You will work through it. You made a mistake, but I forgive you. We will right all the wrongs in the world. Together.”
He was utterly delusional. “Do you really believe all wrongs can be reversed?” she asked. “How can you say such a thing? There’s so much blood on your hands that you leave rivers of poison in your wake. You speak of love, and, yet, death trails you. I will never forgive you. Never.”
Her monster walked closer and touched her chin. Sage jerked her face away and took two hasty steps backward.
“I forget how young you are.” He shook his head and sighed. “It is you who knows nothing of love. Love has a price, and it requires sacrifice. It’s not easy. Love is pain.”
Rage flashed through Sage, and her arms began to tremble. Losing any lingering fear, she stepped closer to him and tipped her head back so she could stare defiantly into his eyes. “I would never intentionally hurt those I love.”
“That’s the funny thing about intentions. They change over time.”
“Is that how it started with you?”
“You know nothing.” His expression hardened a touch. “Time changes one’s perspective.”
She refused to be cowed. “I know enough to promise that I will always fight for my friends and family. I will protect them and my people until my dying breath.”
“On that we can agree, consort.” He studied her face. “You’re angry now, but it will abate. It will slowly fade into a distant memory. I promise you.”
Sage held his gaze, sickened. “I can promise you it won’t and that I will kill you.” Her words seemed to hang in the air.
The warlord smiled, and she shrank back at the tender, knowing gleam in his gaze.
“Hate is a strong word, full of passion. You care for me, even if you won’t let yourself admit it.” He pushed past her, the chains slithering on the ground. “It will be as easy as breathing to slip into
our future. We are on the right path, wild one.”
There was only one path: the path of destruction.
Forty-Three
Sage
Sage pulled her cloak closer around her body and numbly walked into the warlord’s tent. The sun had set, but the war drums kept on going. Her heart gave a pathetic thump. Were her people okay? Tehl? She shut down that line of thought. She couldn’t think about him. If she did, she’d break.
The room was just as she’d left it in her mad dash to get away. The chest lay open, emerald green silk draping over the edge. The dragon’s tortured green gaze flashed through her mind, along with William’s final smile. Her stomach cramped, and she bent over, dry-heaving. Everything was such a mess.
Sage straightened and glanced at the entrance. The monster had disappeared once a healer had seen to the lacerations around her wrists from the cuffs. Without his shrewd gaze on her, it was easier to study the camp around her. The rear of the camp that butted up against the forest wasn’t well protected. Her lips turned down. The warlord’s tent was a different matter. Every two paces a Scythian warrior stood guard. At least she gained some useful information as to the layout of the camp.
Feeling cold, she drifted toward the woodstove. She lifted the bottom of her cloak and fingered the wide hem. Her rusty nail was gone, but at least she still had her hidden blade.
Not that it will do you much good.
Prickles of uneasiness ran across her skin at the thought. If she stabbed him in the heart, would he die? The nail and poison had only slowed him down. She frowned. In fact, the wound to his thigh that she had given him only days earlier wasn’t affecting him. Any normal man would be limping.
He’s not normal.
As if her thoughts would conjure him, she glanced back at the entrance. Whatever type of monster he was, he shouldn’t be walking among them. The bloodstain in the other room was proof of that.
Unnatural. A demon.