Court's Fool (The Aermian Feuds Book 6)

by Frost Kay

  She snorted. He was the only demon here.

  “I only wanted what was best for you,” he whispered. For a moment, he looked like a lost little boy. It threw her off-kilter.

  Then, he blurred.

  She threw both her blades at his heart and yanked two more from her pockets when he halted two steps from her. Her mouth bobbed as she stared at one of her daggers buried in his chest, along with five arrows. He took another step toward her, and more arrows hit him.

  Sage ducked, and bile burned her throat as his pained gaze met hers.

  “From the moment I saw you, I knew you’d be my downfall,” he wheezed.

  Rooted to the spot, she flinched as he brushed his bloody fingers along her left cheek. This couldn’t be real.

  He stumbled forward and dropped to his knees before her. The warlord reached for her, and it broke her from the mental ice that had kept her captive. Sage skittered back several steps, and stared as blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

  What the bloody hell had happened? Where had those arrows come from? Her hands shook, and she dropped the daggers. Was this really how his reign of terror ended?

  “Please,” he gurgled. “Don’t leave me.”

  A last plea.

  A final time, he held his hand out, looking completely vulnerable. Heat pressed at the back of her eyes and tears spilled down her cheeks. All she could see was the abused little boy that he used to be.

  Sage dashed away the tears and hardened her resolve. He didn’t deserve anything from her. Abuse did not excuse the vile choices he’d made. If any other criminal had made the same last request, she would have granted it, but not him.

  “You deserve to die alone,” she whispered harshly.

  Sage backed away, making sure he couldn’t come after her. He toppled onto his side, his mouth forming words she didn’t want to see. She turned her back on him and walked into battle. Blair and Hayjen stalked toward her, both wielding bows. She touched her uncle’s side as he passed her, but she kept moving toward battle.

  The warlord would never take anything from anyone again. He would never hurt her again. Her conscience nagged at her to look over her shoulder, but Sage didn’t. She kept her attention straight ahead.

  He’s gone.

  Even in death, she wouldn’t give him one more second of her time.

  Scanning the battlefield, she numbly watched as the war raged on, all the warlord’s soldiers completely ignorant to the death of their leader.

  It was fitting that the monster who had terrorized the world for so long had disappeared from the earth without a sound.

  She pulled two more wicked-looking daggers with serrated edges from her pockets. A warrior caught her eye and charged.

  Sage smiled—more of a dark slash of her lips, baring teeth—before diving into the fray.

  No rest for the wicked.

  Fifty-One

  Tehl

  Tehl shouldn’t find death so beautiful.

  He stumbled to a stop as he caught sight of the most stunning thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon. His wife fought two warriors, her complete focus on the enemy. Each moment was almost too fluid and fast for him to track.

  Hell’s handmaiden.

  Rafe appeared to his left, panting. He took one look at Tehl’s expression and followed his gaze. “Finally.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” a deep female voice asked.

  Tehl glared at Blaise. “What the blazes are you doing on the battlefield?”

  The Scythian woman gave him a gleeful smile. “Fighting.”

  “And your leg?” Rafe eyed said leg, which was weeping blood. His lips thinned.

  “Nothing some herbs and rest can’t heal. Both of which I can get when this is over.”

  Tehl pressed his lips together so as not to smile. Blaise was one of the fiercest people he’d ever met. “We’ll come around back. We can’t afford to distract her.”

  Blaise scanned the fray. “Where is he?”

  “That was my question,” Rafe muttered. “I can’t see the warlord.”

  “Where Sage is, he’s not far behind,” Tehl murmured. “Keep an eye out. Let’s move.”

  In tandem, they began working their way toward Sage. But with every enemy they felled, another took his place. He spun, thrusting his sword backward into a warrior as Sage caught Tehl’s eye. His heart stopped, and everything went silent around him. She didn’t smile. There was no expression on her face.

  What happened to you?

  Years seemed to pass as they watched each other. Like the sun thawing ice, her expression melted into a gorgeous smile. Covered in mud, snow, and blood, she was his picture of perfection.

  They crashed together, and he couldn’t help himself. Tehl captured her lips in a quick, rough kiss. “Are you okay?”

  “He’s gone,” she whispered.

  He couldn’t have heard that right. Before he had a chance to ask her more, they were swept into battle once again.

  A battle cry tore through the air. Tehl frowned. Where the devil had that come from? Almost as soon as the thought went through his head, soldiers burst from the Scythian camp and attacked their own warriors.

  Blair’s rebels.

  He smiled.

  It was a beautiful conglomerate of mankind fighting against evil.

  And they were going to win.

  Fifty-Two

  Mira

  Gav’s fever broke.

  And she wept. Like a baby.

  Once again, she placed the back of her hand over his brow, just to check. It was a normal temperature. She sighed and pulled her hand back. The morning light warmed the east side of the tent, and she stretched.

  Her brows furrowed when Gav’s breathing became louder. Her attention snapped to his chest. He wasn’t breathing any differently. What the hell?

  Then it dawned on her.

  He wasn’t breathing louder. It was silent outside. The war drums were silent.

  She’d become so accustomed to the incessant beat of the Scythian war drums that she couldn’t remember a time without them. Her hands shook, and she took one of Gav’s hands in her own as hope unfurled in her chest.

  “They’ve done it, Gav. They’ve done it,” she whispered.

  “Done what?” his deep, rusty voice rumbled.

  Mira’s lips parted in surprise as his eyes opened, his purple gems locked on hers.

  “They’ve defeated Scythia,” she murmured, beyond happy to see him awake. Her breath caught as he gave her a huge smile and squeezed her hand.

  Today, miracles did happen.

  Fifty-Three

  Jasmine

  Jasmine pulled her arms close to her torso, her whole body shivering. She tipped her head back and wheezed out a breath, staring at the dark skies that were beginning to lighten. The worst of the storm had passed, but the sea was still angry.

  Another wave crashed over Jasmine, dousing her with icy water. The little boat groaned, but held. How much longer, she didn’t know. She eyed the two rocks that pinned the boat in place. Thank the stars for the rocks. If it hadn’t been for them, she was sure she’d have died hours prior.

  It was still a possibility.

  There was still so much distance between herself and the shore, not to mention it was littered with sharp rocks and coral. One wrong wave, and she’d be dashed to pieces against the stones. She had to do something. The labor pains were coming faster now, and she was already so exhausted.

  Jasmine ran a shaking hand over the swell of her belly. “It’s okay, little one,” she said, her teeth chattering. “I will make sure you’re all right.”

  The sea swelled and pulled back toward the open ocean. That wasn’t good.

  Jasmine glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening as another huge wave rushed toward her.

  Bloody hell.

  She managed to curl in on herself as the wave crashed into her. The little boat cracked and splintered apart. Jasmine tumbled forward, her side scraping against the rock. Wat
er rushed into her ears, and her hair caught on some coral and was torn from her scalp. She clawed at the water, and her head broke the surface. She sputtered and managed two breaths before another wave hit, once again shoving her beneath the water.

  Something sharp sliced into her leg, and she cried out, water flooding her mouth. Jasmine kicked as hard as she could, her lungs desperate for air, and she managed to make it to the surface again. She gasped and tried to tread water. She didn’t have much of a choice now. It was sink or swim.

  Despite the fatigue saturating her limbs, she managed four strokes before her belly contracted again. She glanced to the left, just catching a fin as it sank beneath the waves, and she turned in that direction, while trying to breathe through the pain. Jasmine gritted her teeth and fought to stay as still as possible. The pain passed after a minute, but she didn’t actively move from her spot. She just treaded water. Panic and fear held her in place. She didn’t want to do anything to attract the leviathan’s attention.

  He already knows you’re here. Just move slowly. You can’t stay here.

  She released a small whimper and kicked her legs. Exhaustion pressed down on her, and her limbs faltered. She made it only a few paces when the next contraction slammed into her. She grunted at the immense pain and crossed her legs. She lost all coordination and wrapped her arms around her belly, sinking beneath the surface. The agony seemed to go on forever.

  Tiredly, she fought her way back to the fresh air, and she cried softly. The shore was too far away, and the closest rock looked impossible to climb.

  She hissed when she felt the contractions coming again. A short scream flew from her parted lips as she tried to stay afloat, but she just didn’t have the energy.

  Jasmine began to sink again. She tipped her head back, trying to get as much air as possible, just as hands wrapped beneath her armpits. She let out a loud sob when the person maneuvered her so her back was against their chest, keeping her afloat. She moaned through the rest of the pain, hands fisting in her torn robe and nightgown. Her body sagged when it was over.

  “That’s it,” crooned a deep, sensual female voice. There was only one group of people Jasmine knew with a voice like that. A Sirenidae. “You’re doing amazing.”

  She leaned her cheek against the Sirenidae’s chest and breathed in her amazing scent. “God, you smell good.”

  The woman chuckled. “I’ve been told that before.”

  Jasmine wheezed a laugh that turned into more sobs. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re so strong.”

  She didn’t feel strong. Her eyelids lowered. “I’m so tired.”

  “I know, ma fille. Just take a little rest. I’ll keep you and the babe safe.”

  Tears of gratitude rushed down Jasmine’s cheeks. “I can’t. The pains are too close.”

  “Just focus on your breathing,” the Sirenidae crooned.

  Jasmine nodded and tried to regulate her breathing. Her belly contracted again, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her breath was completely robbed from her when the pain became so acute she thought she’d surely pass out. She opened her eyes and screamed when she caught sight of two dorsal fins that were too close.

  “Peace,” the Sirenidae said. “They are welcoming the child you bring into the world. The beasts are sensitive to such things and usually observe our births beneath the seas. It’s an honor.” She began to hum a soft melody that vibrated through Jasmine’s shoulders.

  It didn’t feel very honoring, more like terrifying. But the agony was too intense for her to focus on the leviathans.

  “That’s it,” the woman crooned. “You’re so brave. Just breathe.”

  The pain receded but still crouched low in her abdomen. That could only mean one thing. Her eyes widened. “How close are we to the shore?”

  “We’ve just entered the cove.”

  Jasmine gazed around, just realizing the waves had gentled to a soft lap against her wet skin. “The babe is going to drown,” she cried.

  “No. I’ve seen such things in the past. Giving birth is natural. The babe won’t even realize she’s parted from your womb.”

  “Except for the frigid water.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s a place just ahead.”

  Another pain hit Jasmine.

  Then another.

  And another.

  She hardly noticed as the cove narrowed, and the water warmed significantly.

  Jasmine shook, and she blinked dazedly around when her feet touched the sand beneath the water. She sighed, enjoying the brief moment of reprieve. “Thank you,” she whispered as heat began to enter her limbs again. “The water is warm.”

  “A natural spring,” the Sirenidae explained. She rotated Jasmine until she carried her like a bride. Jas blinked at the woman. She looked like the woman Sam had been kissing. She shook her head. Her luck couldn’t be that bad.

  She doubled over when the next wave of pain hit her. “I think it’s time, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “You’re doing great. Birth is natural. Your body knows what it’s doing.”

  “But it’s too soon,” Jasmine cried, clinging to the woman.

  “Everything will be okay.” She settled Jasmine with her back against a log that had fallen at the edge of the water, then moved to kneel between Jasmine’s floating legs. “When the next one comes, you push.”

  Jas nodded and bore down with a grunt.

  “Wonderful,” the Sirenidae crooned. “A few more like that and your babe will be here.”

  Another contraction and more pain, burning. Jasmine grabbed the log and squeezed it, her teeth gritted.

  “The head is crowning. You’re doing amazing, Jasmine. Just a little more.”

  Jasmine pushed and yelled, her voice echoing around them.

  “The head is out. Just the shoulders.”

  The pain retreated and Jasmine sucked in ragged breaths. “I’m so tired.”

  “I know, ma fille. Your babe is almost here. Now push!”

  Jas tipped her chin down and pushed with everything she had. One moment, she was in agony, and the next, there was relief. Her jaw dropped as the Sirenidae caught her babe.

  “It’s a girl!”

  The woman lifted the infant from the water, rolled her onto her belly and thumped her on the back. The infant coughed up liquid and then released a piercing cry. Jasmine smiled, tears running down her cheeks as the Sirenidae handed the babe to her.

  A daughter.

  The infant nuzzled into her chest, and Jasmine pulled the cloth away so they were skin to skin. Her daughter was so tiny, petite rosebud lips puckered. All she could feel was love.

  “You did it.”

  Jasmine tore her gaze from her daughter and held her other arm out to the Sirenidae. “Thank you so much.”

  The woman wiped tears from her own cheeks and then held her hand, moving closer. “She’s beautiful.”

  Beautiful was too pale of a word.

  “What will you name her?”

  Jasmine stared at her daughter’s closed eyes. “I don’t know.” Her brows furrowed. “What’s your name?”

  “Mer.”

  “Mer,” Jas murmured. “That’s pretty—a sea name. I think she needs a sea name, don’t you?”

  “I think a sea name would be fitting for your little warrior.”

  She smiled, brushing a finger across the infant’s black hair. “I don’t know any.”

  “What about Lana? It means calm as still waters,” Mer whispered.

  “Lana.” She tested the word on her tongue. She liked it. “Is Lana your name?” she crooned to the baby. Her daughter sighed and cuddled closer. “I think she likes it.”

  Jasmine’s own eyelids began to lower, and her body sagged. She was so tired. Mer wrapped an arm around her back and wedged herself between the log and Jasmine, so her long legs bracketed Jasmine’s. Mer enfolded her arms around Jasmine and Lana.

  “Rest for a little while. I’ll watch over you.”<
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  That was the last thing Jasmine heard before her body gave out.

  Fifty-Four

  Mer

  “Mer.”

  She opened her eyes and turned toward the familiar voice.

  Her grandfather stood waist-deep in the spring, his long silver hair hanging in wet ropes. She eyed him, trying to get a read on his mood. His magenta eyes so similar to her own, gave nothing away.

  “My lord,” she replied, overly respectful. It never hurt to be respectful, especially when one had committed treason.

  “You went against my wishes,” he said softly.

  She swallowed around the lump in her throat. Even though his words were softly spoken, it felt like a slap. Growing up, he’d never raised his voice, but the disappointed tone he used seemed worse than physical punishment. She’d let him down. But even knowing that, Mer wouldn’t go back. Going behind his back had been wrong, but so had his choice to leave the kingdoms at a disadvantage to the Scythians. Mer lifted her chin the smallest bit and refused to cower. Whatever punishment she received, she’d take it with her head held high.

  Jasmine moaned and stirred in her arms but didn’t wake. The poor thing was exhausted. Mer’s heart beat a little faster when she thought about what could have happened to Sam’s wife if she hadn’t discovered Jasmine in time. The babe sighed and snuggled closer to Jasmine’s chest, pulling her grandfather’s attention. His expression softened, and he drew closer, water rippling around them.

  “How was it?” he asked.

  Mer smiled. “While the babe was a hard time coming, Jasmine fought. They both are worn out but healthy. Aren’t they beautiful?”

  Her grandfather gently drew a large, damp finger across the infant’s downy little head of dark hair. “Children are a blessing.”

  She couldn’t agree more. Mer gazed down at the pair with wonder. A new life was an absolute miracle. What Jasmine had accomplished was nothing short of extraordinary.