Enemy's Queen: The Aermian Feuds Book Three

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Enemy's Queen: The Aermian Feuds Book Three Page 26

by Frost Kay


  The bedroom door slammed open, and Sage spun to face the warriors bearing down on her. Nali released a hair-raising growl and loped to her side, making the warriors halt. They eyed the mess and the man-eater. One brave warrior edged closer and placed a gentle hand on her arm, pulling her away from the broken vase.

  “I dropped it,” she said.

  He stared at her for a moment, disbelief on his face. He obviously didn’t believe her lie for one second. She hissed an angry breath when he brushed his hand along her legs, and then her arms.

  “I’m not hurt,” she said.

  “I’m following my commands, my lady.” He finished his search, satisfied, and jerked his chin toward the other men. As quickly as they entered, they exited, leaving her behind with only her regret, the black feline, and a broken vase for company.

  A shiver worked through her body as a cool breeze blew into the room. She snagged the blanket off the bed and threw it over her shoulders before moving out to the balcony. The black beast pressed into her side, and Sage laid a hand on her head, gazing at the night sky. Bright stars twinkled like gems on velvet. A shuddering breath escaped her when she caught sight of fires burning in the distance.

  The Guard. Aermian soldiers.

  So close, but so far away. It was cruel, really, to see her escape and not be able to attain it. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours that she stood gazing out into the dark.

  A warm chest pressed to her back; muscular arms wrapped around her, fingers digging into the blanket and her hips.

  “Are you going to stand out here all night?” the warlord’s deep voice whispered in her ear.

  It was unfair how musical his voice was. It could corrupt the most prudish maiden. He was the devil, plain and simple.

  He took her hand and tsked. “Your hands are as cold as ice. Come warm them by the fire.”

  She allowed him to pull her from her sanctuary—one last glance at the encampment. Even though escape was improbable, the Aermians’ presence still comforted her, inspiring hope.

  The warlord drew her to the fire, where Nali had curled up for the night. Sage sat on a low bench in front of the heat, still cocooned in her blanket. The flames hopped from one side to another in a happy dance of orange, yellow, and red. Her skin prickled, and she pulled the blanket tighter, trying to ignore the huge man studying her.

  “You did well tonight.”

  Sage jerked and craned her neck to meet his eyes. “I did nothing tonight.”

  “Precisely. You played your part remarkably. You should’ve seen the expressions of the Aermian delegation when you ate from my hand.” An amused chuckle rumbled out of him. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do it for you,” she muttered. She tensed and dropped her gaze to the swirling rug beneath her feet, wishing she could take back what she had said. Her words were careless. Careless words killed people.

  The warlord sank to his haunches and lifted her chin. Bravely, she met his gaze, not flinching at the way he scrutinized her face. One finger traced her eyebrow, then down her temple and cheek.

  “I suppose not, consort,” he rumbled, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a kiss so gentle it made her feel like weeping. “Some days, I feel like I could forget the past,” he said, his words whispering across her skin.

  What past? It threw her when he let her glimpse his softer side every so often. It was just enough to make her second-guess herself and look for something good.

  He held his hand out. “Let’s go to bed, love. Tomorrow marks the beginning of our future.”

  Trepidation filled her as she once again followed him to the bed. When she got to its edge, she stared at it like it might bite. Each night went this way. She feared what might happen in that bed, but soon the fear gave way to exhaustion, and she’d find herself wrapped up in Zane’s arms come morning. With a huff, she flung the cover off her back and tossed it onto the bed. Sage crawled into the bed and turned onto her side to watch the warlord strip off his boots and shirt. It made her feel like a lecher, but she’d rather stare at him while he undressed than turn her back to him. No use in making herself more vulnerable than she already was.

  He caught her eye as he shrugged his shirt off, the moonlight highlighting his muscles, which rippled with his every move. Despite everything that had occurred, he was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. He crawled into bed and scooted closer, never losing eye contact, and placed his hand in the curve of her waist.

  She glanced down at his arm and shivered, pulling the cover tighter, unsettled that the heat from his hand burned through the fabric and seemed to imprint itself on her skin like it belonged there.

  “Wild one?”

  Sage peeked up at him from underneath her lashes. “Yes?”

  “You touched him tonight.”

  Licking her lips, she attempted to calm herself. His tone might have been casual, but it was anything but. It was the calm before the storm.

  “It wasn’t anything.”

  “The way he looked at you wasn’t just anything, consort.”

  “Do you want peace?”

  Her question must have startled him, because his intense expression melted into confusion.

  “Have I not made that clear?”

  “I was securing peace.”

  His gaze shuttered. “Is that what you think you were doing?”

  “I know him,” she said, avoiding using Tehl’s name. “Your display upset him. I didn’t want the peace accord to be destroyed before it had a chance to succeed.” Sage meant every word. Her people didn’t understand the kind of creatures they were dealing with. ‘Deadly’ was the word that came to mind.

  His expression was unreadable as he lay there staring at her, searching for something. He must have found it, because he smiled at her and brushed her hair from her cheek.

  “I believe you, Sage.”

  A breath she didn’t know she was holding leaked out of her.

  He hitched his arm around her, pulled her against his chest, and rolled onto his back. She stiffly held herself against his side, her ear over his heart. Sage hated him in that moment, because he was so human. His heart thumped in his chest just like hers, steady and calm, the calm she craved when everything was so messed up and confused.

  “Sleep, wild one.”

  Almost against her will, her body softened and her eyelids grew heavy. But she wouldn’t fall asleep until he answered the question that had been plaguing her since he pointed out the Aermian camp in the distance. “Zane?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “Will you harm my people?”

  Silence.

  She lifted her head and met his dark gaze. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek.

  “As long as they don’t harm me or mine, I’ll leave them unharmed. I want to make the kingdoms a better place.”

  By what means? she wanted to ask, but instead she whispered, “Do you promise?”

  “You have my word, consort, and you know I keep my word.” His heated eyes bore into hers, making it clear what he was speaking of. He hadn’t taken her yet. He’d kept his promises, all of them, even the one she didn’t want to remember.

  “Thank you.” She placed a hand on his heart and leaned closer to brush a kiss along his cheek. The small intake of his breath clued her into something she hadn’t expected. She affected him, but it was more than lust, more than his insane need to control her.

  A small part of him might care for her.

  Sage pulled back and curled up by his side. The thought startled her and gave her a little seed of hope. Somewhere, deep down inside him, he had good qualities. No one could be completely bad. But she wasn’t his salvation, a way to fix his wrongs in the past. Without him knowing it, he’d just given her the key she’d need. It was a dangerous risk to take, appealing to his heart, but if it succeeded, it might mean her freedom.

  His hand curled around hers, and his lips pressed to the top of her head.

  Freedom. She dream
ed of freedom.

  ***

  The morning came too fast, and before she knew it, she was standing before a mirror dressed like a queen. She grimaced at her reflection. With its rich red silk and black fur, her dress screamed Scythian royalty. Her gaze slid to the warlord buttoning his black vest over a black silk shirt. It shouldn’t have surprised her; black seemed to be his signature color.

  As if feeling her gaze, his almond-shaped eyes peered up at her from impossibly thick eyelashes. “Yes, wild one?”

  She shook her head and turned back to her own outfit, her eyes snagging on the collar around her neck. Anger buzzed in her veins. It wasn’t right that something so beautiful could represent something so disgusting.

  “Something wrong?”

  Sage wiped the look from her face as the warlord sidled up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She wanted to test her theory, but baiting him before the peace talks wasn’t beneficial for anyone. “No.” She shook her head. “Just tired.”

  He squeezed her shoulder and squinted at her head. A smile pulled one side of his mouth up. “Well, your hair is wide awake,” he commented wryly as he brushed down a stray hair.

  The moment was surreal. It was times like these that confused Sage. They were so mundane, so human. It scared her how easy it would be to stop fighting, to let go, to let the warlord devour her. He’d been her friend at one time. He could be that again if she let go.

  He placed a quick kiss on her thorn collar. “This looks so beautiful against your skin.”

  Her heart fell. And that’s why she would never comply. When he let his human side out, it was brief and beautiful, like a shooting star, but the darkness that raged after it was brutal.

  He straightened and held an arm out. “Are you ready to change history?”

  Sage nodded and ignored her sour stomach. What sort of changes was he planning?

  ***

  Tables and chairs had been placed in a loose square, while unshuttered windows allowed the mountain breeze to pass through a ballroom. It didn’t escape her notice that she didn’t quite sit in the middle of the group as the position of mediator dictated. Her chair was slightly to the left, closer to the Scythian side.

  The Aermian delegates, the Scythian delegates, and leads were given seats, their places marked with nameplates of onyx inlaid with silver. Pitchers of water, juice, and ale were at all the tables. Scythian scribes she’d never seen before sat on lush pillows against the wall, ready to take notes, while the Aermian scribes sat at a table behind the crown prince.

  She scanned the Scythian side, only knowing three of the nine delegates: the warlord, Maeve, and Blair.

  Her heart squeezed as she twisted to the right and stared at all the familiar faces. Zachael, Gav, Tehl, Sam, Hayjen, Lilja, William, and Jeren. Even the stodgy Jeren was a welcome sight. But it was the man with golden eyes and wine-colored hair that pulled her attention. Rafe sat watching her, his face blank, but in his eyes, she detected a familiar look.

  Sage smiled inwardly. The warlord was a master tactician, but he’d never met Rafe. If there was a way to escape, he’d figure it out. She scanned the group once more and moved back to the man she’d skipped. His dark blue gaze nearly knocked the wind from her lungs. He was more beautiful than the phantom her imagination had conjured.

  “Good morning, wife,” Tehl murmured softly.

  She swallowed hard, ignoring how the warlord stilled at the crown prince’s soft-spoken words. “Good morning, my lord. I trust you slept well?” she said, her tone polite, nothing more.

  “I did. The accommodations were excellent, thank you.”

  She nodded and tore herself from his intense gaze only to be ensnared by the warlord’s. He looked cool and collected, but Sage saw something different. She saw rage brewing beneath the surface, one she didn’t know if she could survive a second time. He looked to Tehl and then shot her a look; she blinked. Had that been hurt in his eyes? What was he thinking? She tore her gaze from the warlord and pushed aside her thoughts. She had a duty to do.

  With care, she rose from her chair. “I welcome all to the peace delegation that will change the very fabric of our kingdoms,” she recited from memory. “Today, we’ll embark on something historic that has not been attempted in one hundred years. Today, we strive for peace.”

  Silence settled over the solemn group of men and women as her words died in the echoing space. She curtseyed to the table. “It’s my honor to mediate this peace accord. It is my hope that we can reach an understanding that will benefit both our lands and peoples.” She held a hand out toward the warlord and the crown prince. “Please step forward to begin our discussion.”

  Tehl moved to her right side, and the warlord prowled to her left. “Please repeat after me: I pledge to seek the advantage for both our peoples as lord and ruler of my kingdom.” Both men repeated after her, and she held a hand out to each man. A measure of calmness settled over Sage when Tehl placed his hand in hers, combating the fear that the warlord’s grip instigated in her. She placed the men’s hands together. “Let it be done.”

  Tehl and the warlord shook hands in the Aermian custom and then kissed each other’s cheeks in the Scythian custom before moving back to their seats.

  Sage swept an arm out and sank into her chair, her wobbly legs grateful for the support. “Begin,” she announced.

  Relief washed over her. Her part was done for now. Now, she listened and watched.

  ***

  Her worry was for naught.

  The morning had started off awkward for everyone seemed reluctant to speak, but after an hour of stilted speeches, Sam had managed to crack a joke that broke even the most stoic Scythians’ demeanors.

  Each Aermian delegate had a speech prepared that was eloquent and overly polite, and each of Zane’s delegates followed by making a speech of their own. The first day was wasted on pretty words that were anything but sincere, but at least they’d gotten the ball rolling.

  She rubbed between her brows. A throbbing pain in her head made itself known just as the Scythian at the end of the table, Phoenix, finished his speech. The delegates had spent all day speaking, yet nothing seemed accomplished.

  “Are you all right, consort?” the warlord asked. Tehl and Lilja’s gazes turned to Sage.

  “My head hurts,” she said, offering a weak smile. All the stress of the day had led to rising pain that stabbed her eyes.

  “We’re finishing up here,” the warlord murmured. “Why don’t you retire to your room until dinner?”

  She glanced at the window, noting the sinking sun. “I will.” Sage stood, curtseyed, and slipped from the room. She stumbled a step and placed a hand against the rough red stone wall. The hallway lurched, causing her stomach to do the same, and the grapes she’d nibbled on for lunch threatened to make a reappearance.

  “My lady? Are you all right?”

  Sage glanced to the warrior who was watching her with trepidation. “No, I need to rest.”

  He nodded, and she forced herself upright and lurched after him. She managed to stumble into the room and crash onto the bed, the pain so overwhelming that stars dotted her vision. Nali grumped, but otherwise didn’t move when Sage cuddled up to the big animal.

  “Do you need anything, my lady?”

  “The curtains,” she mumbled, burrowing into the coverlet and pressing her face into Nali’s fur.

  A rustle of cloth reached her ears, and then blessed darkness closed over her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Silence, and then, “You’re welcome.”

  The door clicked closed.

  She grimaced and prayed that sleep would claim her quickly.

  ***

  Cool skin touched her forehead, and she followed it, seeking comfort. Her hand shot out and wrapped around the wrist, moving it back to her forehead.

  “Wild one, I need you to let go, so I can give you something for your head.”

  “No,” she moaned. “No draughts.” A whimper escaped he
r as another wave of pain slammed into her.

  A curse reached her ears. “You’re so frail! Every time I turn around, there’s something wrong with you! Let me help. I can heal you.”

  A large hand slipped behind her neck and something cool was placed at her lips. Sage pushed through her pain and opened her eyes to stare at the warlord’s angry face.

  “What is it?”

  “Something for your pain.”

  “Are you telling me the truth?”

  His face darkened even more. “I’m not poisoning you.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” she croaked.

  “It’s only for the pain.”

  She searched his face, not sure if he was lying.

  “Drink it, or I will make you. Stop choosing to suffer when I can fix you.”

  And there it was, the threat to take away her right to choose. But even if she did choose, it wasn’t really a choice. Another wave of pain crashed into her. Attending the talks in this state wasn’t possible, and she needed to be there. It was an easy choice. By way of answer, she opened her mouth and drank the draught.

  He laid her down and brushed her hair from her face. “Not terrible, was it?” He placed a kiss on her cheek and rubbed his fingers along her scalp. “Why do you have to be so stubborn? You make no sense sometimes. Women are such fickle creatures.”

  She breathed a contented sigh as his fingers released some of the pain assaulting her.

  “I can’t miss dinner, but I’ll make excuses for you.” He stroked her cheek and then disappeared without a sound, leaving Sage to snuggle back into bed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sage

  Sage woke up, tingling with awareness. She curled her hand around the dagger underneath her pillow. It was comical that the warlord let her keep it as she’d tried to use it on him once, yet he’d disarmed her so quickly that the dagger was more of a symbol of her helplessness than anything else. She was, however, thankful to have it this night—because there was someone in her room.

 

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