by Erin Beaty
She tore open the note and devoured the words inside.
After living the longest and worst days of my life, I cannot wait any longer to hold you again.
Make your excuses. I’ll be in the garden.
—Alex
Sage looked up again, but he was gone. With shaking fingers, she refolded the paper and planned her escape. She thought she was finally finished with acknowledging everyone she felt necessary when Darnessa approached. “There you are. I haven’t seen you in days.”
Sage grimaced. “Sorry. It seemed like you had everything in hand, and there were so many people and things to attend to. I’ve barely had time to breathe.”
The matchmaker waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You look lovely, by the way.”
Sage brushed her hands over her simple but pretty blue skirt, a gift from the queen, who’d taken her under her wing. She couldn’t wait to show Alex. “Thank you. So when do you head home?”
“In two days. Tomorrow will be mostly packing. They’re sending a squad to escort me back, but it’ll be just me. All the maids are staying with various ladies, even Poppy. Is there anything you’d like me to take back to your aunt and uncle?”
Sage laughed at the thought of her family reacting to all the news. Stunned as he would be, Sage looked forward to putting her uncle’s mind at ease that she was well taken care of, though both her aunt and uncle might be disappointed it didn’t include a match. Yet. “I think I’ll spend most of tomorrow writing a very long letter.”
“Good idea.” Darnessa smiled at her fondly. “I’ll miss you, Sage, but I’m happy for you. You deserve this opportunity, this life.”
Sage hugged the taller woman. “I’ll miss you, too, though maybe not the job so much. I don’t think I’m cut out for being a matchmaker.”
“Wild Sage, I never thought you were.” Darnessa squeezed her tight and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. “But I did want to help you.”
Sage pulled back but kept her arms clasped on Darnessa’s. “Are all your matches made, then? Is there anything else you need help with before you go?”
“I just have one more deal to close up, and actually I do need your help.”
Sage raised her eyebrows. “We’d better hurry, then. What do you want me to do?”
Darnessa tilted her head in the direction of the door and said, “Go down there to the gardens and talk to that soldier who’s waiting for you.” Sage put her hands on her hips and scowled at the matchmaker, who only winked back. “Don’t worry about my fee on this one, either.” She patted her cheek. “Now go.”
* * *
Sage found Alex sitting on a bench by the giant willow tree at the southeast corner, his dark uniform contrasting with the silver fountain of branches flowing down behind him. He jumped up when she came along the path and folded her in his warm arms.
“Did anyone tell you how beautiful you are tonight?” he whispered. Before she could answer, he pulled her up the sloping grass into the shelter of the drooping tree branches, hiding them from any passersby. He turned her face to his and brushed her lips with the gentlest of kisses.
“You know,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck. “You’ve told me that several times, but I’ve never gotten a chance to tell you how good-looking you are.”
He shrugged. “I’m all right.”
She laughed and threaded her fingers in his dark hair. “You were a major topic of conversation among the matchmakers. They’ll be coming after you in droves.”
“Tough for them. I’m taken.” He pressed his forehead to hers and pulled her lower body closer. A familiar heat spread through her. If he pressured her for more than kisses, Sage didn’t think she’d be able to say no. He did not, however, though from the way he was breathing she knew he felt the same things she did. He didn’t even try to kiss her again, as if it would tip the balance of his self-control.
“Marry me, Sage,” he whispered.
It was too much. She didn’t doubt his sincerity, but the proposal took her completely by surprise. “But it’s late; I don’t have time to find a proper wedding dress before midnight.”
“Dammit, Sage, you know what I mean. I want you to promise me now.” He released her from his hold, angry beyond what her nervous joke merited.
She understood him too well to be hurt. “What’s wrong, Alex?”
He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his head. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest as he continued, “D’Amiran’s conspirators and the Kimisar are stirring up trouble, and we still haven’t found the count. I’ve been ordered to go after them. After what they’ve started—what they’ve taken from my family—I have to go.”
She nodded. “Yes, you do.”
“The next few months will be rough, but I can get through them if—”
“I promise,” Sage interrupted, reaching for his hands. “I’ll wait for you.”
Alex sighed and laced his fingers with hers, pulling her close again. “Thank you.”
Sage lay her head against his collarbone, breathing him in. “How long will you be gone?”
“Till midwinter, I expect. I’ll write as often as I can.”
“As will I.”
“Then if you want, I’ll resign and we can marry as soon as I’m free.”
Sage leaned away and shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t do that for me.”
“I’ll be a farmer.”
She laughed. “Be serious.”
“I am. As long as you’re there, I’ll clean the pigsty every day.”
She looked down at their interlaced fingers and shook her head again. “No, it’s because I love you that I could never take you from the army. It’s your life.”
“I think you underestimate my feelings for you.” His tone was light, but there was a trace of hurt.
Sage raised his hands to her lips and kissed his fingers. “What I have now—a home with friends, respect, a useful and important occupation, a chance to learn more…” She looked up. “Would you want to take these things from me?”
“Not for the world.”
She pulled her right hand free to trace the scar over his eyebrow. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “That is why I can’t take you away from the things you have now,” she whispered. “They’re part of you. They’re inseparable. And that’s one of the things I love most about you.”
Alex caught her up in his arms and kissed her with a passion that made her seriously reconsider her words. “Damn your persuasiveness,” he muttered in her ear before trailing his lips down her neck to her shoulder.
“And yours,” Sage managed to gasp. He lowered her down to the soft grass at their feet, and there was no more talking. Alex paused to pull his jacket off and put it behind her head as a pillow. Then, starting at her fingers, he teased and explored every inch of her bare skin with his lips, making her dizzy by the time he moved past her wrist up her arm. He never tried for more than what was already exposed, but she almost wished he would, though she doubted she had a clear enough mind to stop him. Then his hands gripped her skirt, like he was trying to prevent them from doing something else, and he moaned in her neck in a way that made her shiver.
For a long time he held still against her, and she instinctively didn’t move, knew he was struggling with the same desires that left her breathless. Then he whispered her name and wrapped his arms around her again. She sighed into his chest, trying not to cry at the thought of missing him. Two months ago she hadn’t even known he existed, yet now she couldn’t live without him.
Alex nuzzled her temple. “You’ll want to fix your hair before we go back in,” he murmured. “It’s a real mess.”
Sage laughed into his shirt. “That is truth.” She pushed up to look down at him. “Yours isn’t much better.”
“I guess we’ll just have to stay out here all night, then.” Alex sighed with mock sadness.
�
��No argument here. It’ll be one hundred and eighty long days and nights before I can muss your hair again.”
Alex traced her lips with his thumb. “Who’s counting? Not me. Too depressing.”
He leaned up to kiss her forehead, and she settled back into his arms before daring to voice her deeper concern. “Alex?”
“Mmmmm?” he breathed into her hair, deliberately tousling it further.
“Three years is a long time.” His arms tensed around her. “I just … I know things can change, especially with distance.” For several heartbeats he remained motionless. Then he relaxed.
“I guess if you forget me, I’ll just have to use my persuasive powers. Let me practice them now.” He moved to kiss her neck.
She scowled and shoved him away. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Alex leaned in again, and this time his lips hit the mark. “Besides,” he whispered, the heat of his breath curling around her ear, “it’s not three years, it’s two and a half. Nine hundred twenty days, to be exact.”
Sage grinned. “Who’s counting now?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First thanks go to you, the reader, who made it this far and for whom Sage’s story was written. I hope you enjoyed getting to know her as much as I have. She is way cooler than me.
I could not have brought this book into reality, however, without the tireless support and efforts of others. Most important is God, from whom all things come. Right after are the intercessions of Francis for words and Dymphna for sanity. Deo gratias.
In a more corporal sense, I owe so much to my champion and super-agent, Valerie Noble, who picked me out of the slush and dreamed big when I was afraid to. I wouldn’t be here without you. To Erin Stein at Imprint, who said “Wow” and not “Whoa.” To Rhoda Belleza, editor extraordinaire, and her sidekick Nicole Otto, who rolled up their sleeves and dug in. To Ellen Duda and her design team for making things pretty inside and out, and to Ashley Woodfolk in marketing. To Molly Brouillette and Brittany Pearlman, the publicists with the magic touch, and the Fierce Reads Team, who voted to let me in their clubhouse before I was fully housebroken. And for all: God bless you for your patience with me.
Special thanks to Devon Shanor for her beautiful photography and for meeting me at the dinosaur park in the middle of nowhere. Also for not thinking it was a weird idea.
To Kim, who read Alanna with me in junior high and then twenty-five years later read my roughest of drafts and said Yes! All my other readers (alphabetically): Alissa, Amy, Brit, Carol, Carolee, Caroline (who printed the whole dang thing out!), Dan, Kammy, Katie, Kim M., Kim P., Leah, Melissa, Natalie, and Ron … at least one scene was made better by each of your comments. To Ryan, for his non-legal advice and foolish optimism (which turned out to be not so foolish). To my critique partners Joan Albright, who gently educated me on what I had screwed up, and Sarah Willis, who polished. I will meet you on the bookshelves someday, if not in person.
To Mom, for showing me that girls loving science and math was normal and for letting me pursue everything I wanted to, even when you didn’t understand why; and to Dad, for going fifteen rounds with me on every paper in high school (and not even telling me what was wrong until round ten). And to both of you for unfailing love and support, letting me read whatever I wanted, and for teaching me my limits were only set by myself.
To Krav Maga Nebraska (and also Dad), for teaching me how to kill people (all in the name of self-defense, of course).
To Kisa Whipkey. We didn’t end up working together, but getting your e-mail in a time of despair was the lifeline that probably saved this book.
To Andrew Jobling, who lit the fire by showing me what would kindle the flame. (Spoiler: It has little to do with actual writing.)
To Tamora Pierce, who inspired me as a person with books I wanted to read.
To my kids: being your mother has been the greatest privilege of my life. Thank you for coming out so well despite my clumsy efforts. Yes, you can have a snack. After you clean your room. Okay, you can have it now, but then do your chores.
And Michael, because when everyone is thanked, when every word is written, when every day is done, it’s always you who are at the end of it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erin Beaty was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana, which means she can’t drive a tractor, but she won’t eat veggies that come from a can. She graduated from the US Naval Academy with a degree in rocket science and somehow always ended up writing her study group’s lab reports. After serving in the fleet as a weapons officer and a leadership instructor, she resigned to pursue her side hobby of populating the Church of Rome. It still amazes her when other people want to hear the stories that come out of her head.
She and her husband have five children, two cats, and a vegetable garden and live wherever the Navy tells them to go. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Copyright © 2017 by Erin Beaty
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Imprint logo designed by Amanda Spielman
First hardcover edition 2017
eBook edition May 2017
eISBN 978-1-250-11793-9
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Map
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
/> Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright