by Ella Fields
Nods and murmurs of agreement arose. Azela took notes on her parchment. “I’ll have that underway by morning.”
“If magic was used, come find me, and I’ll see what Truin and”—I glanced at Truin to my left—“I can do.”
More nods and still, my chest felt too tight.
“I say we take the long way around,” Dervin, one of the younger generals, suggested. “Give us the element of surprise.”
A smooth, deep voice entered the room. “This is war, not a game. You cannot have an army of at least six hundred soldiers surprise anyone at this late notice.”
Dervin gaped at Zad, then stuck his nose in the air before looking back at the map.
General Rind failed to hide his smirk behind his tea.
A bouncing sensation shook my stomach, that tightness easing somewhat, as our eyes met. The lord drifted through the room in his crimson and black coat and removed his gloves. But it was the sight of the male who entered after him that had a smile blooming on my face. “Welcome home, soldier.”
Ainx bent at the knees, smiling briefly. His neck was bandaged, and he moved as though he was worried his head would topple off his shoulders, but he was here.
Azela gasped, and I watched her struggle to contain her relief as a few people clapped.
I cleared my throat. “Azela, please show Ainx to his quarters. I’m sure it’s been quite a journey for him.”
Ainx’s gaze slid to me, wary and guarded, but I said nothing and refocused on the map while she escorted him from the room.
“We march straight to them,” I said, my finger following the steep slope of the city and the roads that wound through the villages and valleys and forests beyond. “No pretenses. Lord Allblood is right. This is war, and it’s too late to try to outsmart them.”
A hush descended over the room, sending shivers skating up my spine.
Zad stood to my right, over by the arched window, with his arms crossed over his chest. I didn’t look at him. I had no need to when I could feel his presence and those keen eyes upon me.
“My queen,” a young male spoke up, so young I hadn’t yet learned his name. “Do you think we will win?”
One of the soldiers seated by him tried to shush him. Raising my hand, I tilted my head at the pup. “Your name?”
His throat bobbed as he sat straighter, bony shoulders pulling back beneath dark curls. “Euwin.”
“Euwin,” I repeated. “Do you think we will win?”
“I-I don’t know,” he admitted, frowning.
I sighed and pushed my chair back. “Well, neither do we.”
We adjourned until the morning, and I tried to escape the eyes I felt boring into the back of my head, the heat that encapsulated me with every step closer he gained.
I made it to the hallway that led to my rooms before he finally decided to act.
My waist was wrapped in his arm, and then I was against the freezing cold window, the sill digging into my rear as he loomed over me. “You dare to run from me?”
“Did you see me running?”
His lips tilted, fingers reaching out to tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear. I felt that touch like a feather drifting over every sensitive place. “I saw you hurrying.”
I raised a brow. “Why not just ask me to wait?”
“Because,” he said, his mouth moving over my cheek to skim above my jaw where the two jagged scars decorated it. “I rather like chasing you.”
My pulse began to skitter, my hands reaching for his hard chest.
He licked the puckered skin, and my knees quaked. “I miss having you in my bed.”
“I couldn’t stay forever,” I said, hating how soft the response was.
“You ran from me then, too.”
“I had to leave,” I reminded him.
“Without a goodbye?” His mouth found mine, and I pushed at his chest.
“Goodbyes aren’t necessary when you know you’ll eventually see whomever you’re leaving.”
He straightened, staring down at me with a crease between his brows. “Eventually.”
I moved around him and headed for my rooms. “Thank you for coming.”
“Audra.” A quiet yet firm demand.
“What?” I turned to face him.
He took five long strides and gripped my cheeks within his hands, searching my eyes.
“Stop it.” I shoved him away.
“You still have not killed him.” His tone reeked of disbelief, his eyes shining with disappointment. “That is why they’re coming. For him.”
“I know,” I growled. “You needn’t remind me like I’m a child.”
The smirk was back, only more cruel than I’d ever seen. “We both know you’re most certainly not a child. But…” He backed me into the doors, voice laced with velvet soft aggression. “What are you then? A queen still in love with the asshole who conspired to destroy her?”
“What I am is none of your concern.” I sent a wave of wind at the doors, stepping back and slamming them shut on his granite expression.
He banged on the wood. “You know that’s not true.”
Then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the hall.
With heavy limbs, I hauled myself from my bed, where I’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, wondering if Zad would let himself in.
He never did, and then I wondered where he was sleeping, for he surely planned to stay until we left.
Then I wondered if Raiden now had enough sense of self to access his magic. If he could summon enough to break out, get past the guards, and find his way to my rooms.
Then I wondered what would happen if he did.
Would he kill me once and for all? Or would he try to insist he loved me?
Either way, as I ate blueberry porridge alone in the dining room, I decided it was best to ignore him and the ever increasing problem he posed.
Zad too. I had bigger ones to worry over.
“Any word on their whereabouts?” I asked when Mintale entered, tugging at the lapels of his coat.
“It’s estimated they will cross the border before noon tomorrow.” He helped himself to some tea. I set my spoon in the bowl and pushed it away. “They don’t seem to be stopping more than once a day to sleep, and even then, it’s only for several hours at most.”
Truin bobbed her head at the door. “Good morning, my queen.”
I flicked a hand at the formality, and she smiled, crossing the room to take a seat beside me.
I sipped some tea as she rearranged her skirts and eyed the rows of now cold toast. “Have some.”
She didn’t need to be told twice and began slathering jam over two slices.
“If you’ll excuse me, Majesty. I’m needed in the guest hall,” Mintale said. “There was a skirmish with some staff this morning, and they broke your great-grandmother’s vase.”
My brows crinkled. “A skirmish?”
His lips wriggled as he tried to contain his smile. “Over catering to a certain male, I believe.”
My chest caved with my next breath, and Mintale left the room.
Truin laughed and patted my hand.
I scowled. “What’s so funny?”
She took her hand back to make some tea. “You. For someone incredibly hard to read, you wear every emotion possible when it comes to those two males.”
“Excuse me?” I coughed and quickly drank some more tea.
Truin flicked her yellow-blond hair over her shoulder, then finished chewing a bite of toast before saying, “You know very well who I’m referring to.”
I said nothing and stared daggers at my cooling tea.
She lowered her voice. “Though I do have to ask, what are you doing to yourself?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” I asked over the lip of my cup.
Truin brushed some crumbs from her gray linen top as her eyes danced with amusement. “Perhaps, but tell me anyway.”
“I’m torturing myself.” I placed my empty cup down. “It’s not much fun, so
I cannot say I recommend it.”
Truin laughed, and I dragged my finger around the rim of the porcelain. “He remembers.”
“I heard.”
I looked around the room, but there were no guards. They were busy readying for our journey and recruiting any city folk who could handle a weapon to protect the city. “He told me his version of events.”
Truin swallowed, a harsh sound, then sipped some tea to wash down the bread. “He remembers that far back?”
“He hadn’t told you?”
She shook her head. “No, but I haven’t seen him in a few days. Gretelle has been checking on him while I tended to the influx of orders I’d abandoned.”
“And what has she said?”
Truin stared down at her toast. “That he was growing less confused by the day, and he’d stopped throwing up.” She looked at me then and leaned closer. “Granted, this type of thing doesn’t occur very often, suppressing ones memories, but I didn’t think…” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to continue.
She’d thought my plan would wind up being nothing but wasted time and would only serve to unbandage damaged wounds.
“If I’m being honest, I didn’t truly think it would work either.”
“Love,” she said. “It really is the strongest power of all.”
I snorted. “That or I’m simply a determined bitch.”
Truin laughed as I left her to her toast. “You’re never simply anything. But what will you do now?”
“Nothing. We’re off to war.”
Before I could leave, she said, “Oh, and Zadicus slept alone. I heard the handmaids fighting over who got to tidy his room after he left for the training yard.”
Steam tendrilled toward the ceiling, wafting off my skin as I unfolded the towel and swept it over my body.
I’d never experienced war. Never had I known what it was to battle for your very life until some weeks ago. Though I’d been trained for it, the unpredictable tide that rolled for us all had every one of my breaths counted.
Raiden. This had all started because of him. Though I’d be a fool to place the blame solely on his shoulders when really, it began with my father.
That didn’t mean I trusted him. I could never trust him again. But I wondered if perhaps I could end him swiftly and soundlessly. Let it be done. Only, even if I did, I knew it wouldn’t end there.
A howl wrenched the air, echoing off the mountains behind the castle.
Time jumped with unrecognizable speed when you were heading for what might just be your doom. Maybe I’d been heading toward it my entire life, and that was why I felt somewhat resigned to it. Not to die, but to ride into battle, to immerse myself amongst the flavor of hatred and death.
Peace could only last for so long without all-out resentment and long-buried feelings eventually clawing their way to the surface.
I’d contemplated going to the dungeon, but all day long, I was taking my time and doing everything else I could think of instead. And now, nightfall had arrived, bringing with it a shirtless lord on my bed.
I kept the towel around me as I sat before my dressing table and began brushing my hair.
Mint and cloves filled my lungs with every swipe of the bristles over the damp strands. “I believe we’ve been here before.”
“A different time,” Zad murmured.
A glance in the mirror to the left showed his eyes on me. “Is it, though?”
He lifted the pipe to his lips and wrapped them around it, his gaze probing.
I sighed and set the brush down, then pulled the lid off a pot of lavender and vanilla bean lotion to dab some over my face, neck, and arms. “Will you be returning to your room?”
“Do you want me to?”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted. “We’re not fucking if you choose to stay.”
Zad huffed as I stood and draped the towel over the chair. He kept his eyes on mine as I traipsed over the soft rugs and patches of cold floor between them, then climbed inside the bedding. “You think me interested in only one thing?”
I turned to press half my face into the pillow. “We never speak of you. It’s always me.”
He was silent for a few minutes as he finished smoking his pipe. I watched the light from the night sky break through the window, robbing some of the shadows of their souls.
“Did you think I was too self-serving to notice?” I asked when he remained silent.
He set his pipe on the nightstand, then shifted to gaze down at me. “You’ve been to my home; you’ve met my family, my friends…”
I stared up at him. “Some of them. And as much as you probably love all those things, you never speak of her.” I paused. “Of Nova.”
He did not flinch at the sound of his dead wife’s name, but he did draw a harsh breath. “What would you have me say? That was a different life.”
“That may be so, but I’m no one’s bandage or distraction, Zad.” My stomach clenched. “Obtaining more power won’t ease the longing.”
Mirth, quick and gleaming, lit his eyes. I frowned, unsure what he found so amusing.
He sank down further until our faces were almost touching. “I do not speak of her because it does new love no good to speak of old love.”
My frown morphed into a scowl, my eyes and heart burning.
Zad’s mouth curved, and he reached out to ghost his thumb over my bottom lip. “If you want to know something, you need only ask.” His eyes dropped to my mouth, following his thumb’s caress, then moved back to mine with a softness that wasn’t present before. “I have nothing to hide.” Honesty rang clear in his voice, in his eyes, and in his touch.
A strong arm wound around my back and pulled me close, long fingers trailing the indent of my spine until his hand was buried in my hair. “The games end here.” His words danced over my lips. “At this embrace, at this touch of my lips to yours, I swear to you”—he kissed me, hard, soft, and swift—“what is left of my heart is yours.”
My next exhale faltered. I took his mouth and held his face tight to mine as something wet rolled over my cheek. He caught it with his thumb and groaned as my leg hitched over his hip to keep every part of him touching me.
When he tore away, his lips all over my breasts, hands feasting at my stomach and squeezing my hips, I panted, “I said no fucking.”
His wicked laugh pounded through me, driving my need for him higher as he spread my legs. “I’m not going to fuck you.” His tongue swiped through my center, and my head flew back. “I’m loving you. One delicious inch of skin at a time.”
Stillness. It arrives in the heart of fear.
In the stampede of horse hooves galloping across memory-laden terrain. In the sweat gathering at the brow of my second in command. In the flexing groan of leather gloved hands. In the clanking of arrows tucked inside quivers, awaiting their prey. In the dragging beat of hundreds of hearts, wondering if they shall meet our makers or go home to live, to love, another day.
I felt plenty of those things, but what I did not feel was fear.
I had neared death more than many in my short life, and never, not once, had I encountered the trepidation of finality.
I would live another day.
Those with blackened souls did not perish. They continued forward, carrying their misdeeds and scars like that of overgrown shadows.
A curse for the blessed. The dark would never be granted true rest.
Allureldin and its neighboring provinces had been evacuated, save for a few traders, shop owners, and aging folk who refused to leave and instead, boarded up their windows and barricaded doors.
It wouldn’t stop what was coming for us should we be defeated, but none of us had the heart to tell them that. Let them slather ointment over a gaping wound if it made them feel better.
I only hoped they knew how to run.
We headed south to try to meet them in the valleys of Densbow, where a better chance for victory on flatter terrain might be achieved.
On his stallion, Z
ad rode alongside me, and my thighs clenched at the sight of that sinful mouth. Bristling, I looked away when he smirked.
He’d asked me to stay behind. After shattering me three times, he thought I was spent enough to suggest such a thing. I’d ended up fucking the stupid right out of him—Raiden and my useless, conflicted heart be damned.
Mintale had stayed behind, as well as Ainx, who was not impressed but wasn’t well enough to ride that far again. He’d been tasked with assisting the soldiers from the castle rooftops, overseeing the archers who were at the ready should we be tricked and anyone tried to invade.
We would soon discover we had not been tricked.
After camping in an abandoned village overnight, we woke to news that the Sun Kingdom’s army was mere miles away. I suppose they’d heard word of our approach, so they hadn’t stopped.
I trailed my finger over the doll with a missing eye, the small white bed with faded purple knitted afghans creaking beneath me.
The worn wooden floor protested as Zad’s boots came into view.
“Perhaps we should’ve brought the furbanes.”
“You would never forgive yourself if something happened to Van.” Affixing the last of his armor, he crossed the room, slipped the doll from between my hands, and set it gently upon its home on the wicker dresser. “Come, my queen.” He held out his hand. “We’ve a war to win.”
I watched those long fingers enclose around mine. He pulled me to my feet and took my face in both hands. Capable hands, calloused hands, magical hands.
We’d curled together in this little girl’s parents’ bed. Too tired to play and too wired to sleep, he’d held me, his breath tickling the top of my head while I’d gripped his arm and listened to him tell me made-up stories about the family who lived in this tiny cottage.
My hands glided over his cheeks, and I rose onto my toes, my eyes closing as I rested my lips against his. “Thank you,” I breathed.
“For what?”
Releasing him, I just smiled, and backing away, I began to braid my hair.
Outside, Zad was talking with two of his friends over a map as everyone mounted their horses and pulled down tents.
A blond male nodded at me. I remembered him as one of the lord’s friends who helped rescue me and Berron. Landen. “Good morning, Majesty,” he murmured.