Enemy's Queen: The Aermian Feuds Book Three

by Frost Kay

  Tehl glanced over his shoulder as Sam entered his room, shutting the door only to fall heavily against it, his shoulders slumped.

  “Sam?” Lilja called, rising from her perch on the divan.

  “Music,” Sam whispered. “I need music.”

  Tehl turned and placed his cup on the table near the fire. “Why? What for?”

  His brother lifted his head, devastation clear on his face. “I need it.”

  Short. No explanation.

  “Hayjen?”

  The tall man met his wife’s gaze, disappeared into the adjoining room, and reappeared with a fiddle. He lifted his bow and began to play a haunting tune that rose the hair on Tehl’s arms.

  Lilja eyed Sam. “Now speak.”

  Sam dragged a hand over his face and pushed from the door. His stride was clipped as he approached the silent group of people lounging around the room. “We have a serious problem.”

  That got Tehl’s attention; Sam must have needed music to prevent their conversation from being overheard. “What is it?” he asked in a low voice.

  His brother opened his mouth and then closed it, shooting a glare at the door behind him. Sam strode to a desk situated in the corner and poured whiskey into a cup. He tossed it back and then pulled in a deep breath before speaking. “She refused.”

  It was only two words, but they knocked the wind from Tehl’s lungs.

  Hayjen missed a note, but quickly continued playing.

  “Why?” Zachael breathed, devastation clear on his face.

  “I don’t know. I—” Sam shook his head. “Why would she do this?”

  “Did she give you any hints?”

  “Nothing.” Sam cursed and kicked at a log. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “She’s been with the warlord for months,” Lilja murmured, almost hesitant. “She could be under his influence somehow.”

  “That’s nonsense,” William retorted. “She seems not the kind of person to be unduly influenced.”

  “That’s the problem, though,” Rafe rumbled. “It’s not always something one can control.”

  “How did she act with you?” Lilja asked.

  Sam tugged at his hair. “She attacked me.” A goofy smile flittered across his face and disappeared. “To be fair, I did sneak up on her when she was in bed. But when she recognized me, she embraced me. I saw Sage, or a glimmer of her, before she locked her old self away and then disappeared.” Sam’s fingers curled into a fist, his arms shaking. “She…she told me that she owed the warlord everything, and that he was using her as much as…” His brother hesitated. “As much as the rebellion and Crown.”

  He froze. She thought he was using her? She compared him to the Scythian warlord? Tehl clenched his hands, trying to ward off the pain those words caused him. Something wasn’t right. Sage could be reasoned with despite her emotions. Those words weren’t reasonable at all. They were nonsense.

  Hayjen played straight into another song, his fingers flying over the strings.

  “That’s not what Sage believes,” Lilja reasoned. “I know, because we’ve talked about it. Those words aren’t her own; they have to be someone else’s.” She shot a glance at her husband. “Hayjen and I have rescued girls who have been inflicted with this type of torture. They’re manipulated into believing things that make no sense at all. It seems crazy to us, but seems absolutely real to them.”

  Jeren stepped closer, his head bowed. “So, you’re telling me that our consort has been deceived by our enemy?”

  Lilja nodded gravely.

  Tehl’s advisor, Jeren, glanced around the room and held up his hands. “You all know that I have not hid my dislike for Sage, but in the time she was with us, she changed things for the better. It’s with a heavy heart that I say this, but someone needs to.” He pulled in a deep breath, looking very old. “Sage is a wealth of information for both the Crown and rebellion. If the warlord has accomplished what you suspect, Captain Femi, then it is logical for us to examine those consequences.”

  “No,” Gav growled.

  Tehl met Jeren’s gaze. “You think she’s working with him. That she’s a traitor?” Tehl didn’t attack the man for the accusation. It was logical. If the warlord wanted information, Sage was his key.

  Jeren glared around the room. “The crown prince believes me,” he uttered softly.

  All eyes swung to Tehl. “It makes sense. Think of it. She’s the perfect piece for him to use in his game.”

  “So, you’re naming her a traitor?” Zachael asked calmly.

  “No,” Tehl glanced at Lilja. “I am just saying that he’s hurt and manipulated my wife. We don’t have any idea what information she may have unwittingly given him.”

  “What a brilliant idea,” Sam hissed. “Even if she was able to reason through all his lies, her actions would be proof of treason. The warlord has created an intricate trap.” Sam’s brows slashed downward. “We’re still missing something. Sage was afraid.”

  Sage never let anyone see her fear. That in itself was disturbing.

  “What kind of fear?” Rafe questioned.

  Sam squinted at the ornate ceiling. “Fear for me.” He dropped his chin down, blankly staring at the group. “She wasn’t afraid for herself. Sage was protecting me.”

  “That sounds like my wife,” Tehl muttered. His brows furrowed when something tugged at the back of his mind. He blinked. The girl from the village. “Sam. The girl.” Sage would never leave the girl behind.

  “What girl?”

  “The girl from the village.”

  “Of course,” Sam exploded. He glanced at the door and continued in a lower tone. “Sage would never leave anyone behind.”

  “Do you think she’s protecting the girl and so not being manipulated?” Jeren asked.

  “I’m sure he’s manipulated her, but if Jasmine is alive, Sage wouldn’t leave her behind. What better leverage for the warlord to have? Sage would probably risk her own life, but the life of a friend?”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Rafe asked, watching Lilja.

  The Sirenidae scanned the group as Hayjen’s song came to a crescendo. “We play our parts. We must be content to watch and wait for her signal.”

  “And you believe there will be one? A signal, I mean?” Jeren asked.

  “I would stake my life on it.”

  “Then, we wait,” Tehl said.

  “We wait,” Lilja echoed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sam

  And they waited.

  Five days passed in a flurry of pretty speeches, veiled threats, and reluctant compromises. Each day, he prayed that Sage would give them a signal: a look, a cue... anything really. But she didn’t. She sat at the end of the table, a ghost of her former self.

  Sam glanced at his brother from his seat at the dining table. Tehl sat in his chair, sipping wine from a goblet, looking regal, as if the world were there only for his amusement. But Sam knew what lay beneath the surface of that façade. It was evident in his brother’s gaze resting on Sage, the tightness of the skin around his mouth whenever the warlord needled him, and how tightly he clenched his goblet. His brother was worried, angry, and dangerously close to losing his temper.

  Sam sighed, lazily scanning the table. A pair of cinnamon eyes snagged his attention. They were perusing him with interest, so he cocked his head and smirked at her. The one called Maeve didn’t simper, flush in embarrassment, or look away. She simply held his gaze and raised a goblet of wine to him. That wasn’t something he experienced every day. For once, he felt like the prey, not the predator.

  She broke their stare-off and whispered something in her daughter’s ear. Sam glanced between mother and daughter, discreetly observing them. Things rarely shocked him anymore, but seeing two women who looked like twins, but were mother and daughter was an eerie experience.

  Maeve glanced at him from beneath her dark lashes, a sensual smile curling her lips.

  “I’ll take my leave,” the warlord said as he stood. H
e held his hand out to Sage. “Consort, would you like an escort to your room?”

  Sam schooled his expression as Sage placed her hand in the other man’s and swept out of the room with the Scythian.

  Her room? Liar. The warlord didn’t let her out of his sight.

  His gaze shifted to Tehl. His brother stared in the direction of the couple before tossing back the last of his wine emotionlessly. It seemed like his brother fractured a little further as each day passed. They didn’t have much time before Tehl broke and did something that got them all killed.

  He turned back to Maeve as she daintily dabbed at her mouth and stood. She turned on her heel and sauntered out of the room. At the last second, she peered over her shoulder and met his gaze, winked, and disappeared from view.

  Intriguing. She was flirting with him, but why? He swirled his wine and sniffed the fruity liquid while scanning the table. Both delegations were still watching each other apprehensively, though some of the tension had departed the room with the warlord. Sam caught the eye of Blaise and smiled widely, knowing his dimple was on display. It was a smile that always worked for him.

  Her lips thinned as she bared her teeth.

  Well, almost every time. Apparently, she still hadn’t forgiven him for his interrogations.

  Sam pushed back from the table and bowed to Blaise in a courtly fashion, earning looks from many at the table. He strode from the room, keenly aware of the attention he drew. He kept smiling as he exited the room, keeping his stride lazy while examining the hallway with a sharp gaze. One never knew who was lurking about.

  He sauntered past a curtained window when something grabbed the back of his vest and yanked him back. Sam pulled a dagger from his waist and spun, using the momentum. He blinked in shock as his dagger was plucked from his hand, and he was yanked into the dark and slammed against a stone wall. He tried to surge forward, but the body pressed against him held him in place.

  “Calm down. I’m not going to kill you.”

  A soft, flowery scent curled around him in the dark space. A woman.

  “I find I must warn you that I like being taken captive, my lady,” he purred as his mind scrambled for an explanation. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark space. A secret hallway. How unoriginal. Where did this one lead?

  “I don’t doubt that, Prince.”

  His eyes narrowed at the voice as he focused on the woman holding him, just able to make out the shape of her face. Maeve. “I’m flattered, but I must say that you have me at a—”

  “Enough,” she whispered. “Time is short. Do you wish to take your princess home safely?”

  Sam stilled, sensing a trap, and answered carefully. “We all wish for our loved ones to be safe.”

  A small growl from below his chin. “We don’t have time for pretty words. Sage is in danger. If she doesn’t escape, he’ll kill her.”

  His body tensed. “Why tell me this?”

  “Because I’m going to help her escape our warlord and put his tyranny to an end.”

  He forced a chuckle out while he ran through the possible reasons she’d really approached him. “That sounds an awful lot like treason, my lady. The Aermian delegation is here for peace. We’d never jeopardize our endeavors.”

  Maeve scoffed and released her arm from his throat. “Please, we all know why you’re here, but you’ll not succeed.”

  Sam almost reached for a blade, but thought better of it. The woman had been able to restrain him in seconds. Plus, he didn’t know if her superior eyesight included some form of enhanced night-vision. He straightened his vest. “This has been exciting, but I must be returning to my room. It’s been a long day that I’m sure we’ll repeat tomorrow.”

  “She said you’d be difficult. I don’t expect you to trust me, but I do expect you to trust someone you’ve sworn yourself to.”

  He stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “She said to tell you that when you helped to arm her, you promised to support her even against your own blood; you became her brother in truth.”

  His mind flashed back to Sage sobbing while trying to attach her dagger sheaths before her wedding, and how she shook so hard she couldn’t clasp them. He’d never shared that with anyone. He was also sure Sage and Gav wouldn’t have, either. This was Sage’s sign. “What do you need from me?”

  A sigh of relief. “You need to pick a fight tomorrow.”

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “Not a physical fight, but you need to raise an issue that the warlord will never accept, and that Aermia will never budge on.”

  “And that is?”

  “His experiments.”

  A chill ran through him. “He’s still experimenting?”

  “That’s neither here nor there, but he’d never agree to give up his perceived rights. It’ll be an insult he won’t be able to ignore.”

  “He’ll have to change his game,” Sam murmured. “That’s dangerous.”

  “It’ll be enough to ensure the delegations escape from this place, and also allow me time to get the girls out of this hell.”

  “Girls?” he asked.

  “Be prepared to rescue three girls. Span your men along the Scythian border. They won’t be able to cross near the Nagali border. There will be too many warriors roaming the area.”

  “It’ll be done.” Sam’s mind raced, thinking on all the things he needed to put into motion in order for this to succeed. It would be difficult, but not impossible. “And you promise to get her out safely?”

  “I promise nothing but freedom.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “If I cannot free her, she’ll die a clean death. I won’t allow her to suffer another moment more.”

  His lips thinned. He hated it, but he didn’t understand what Sage had suffered, so perhaps that was the best she could offer. If his sister-in-law was willing to die rather than suffer any further by the warlord’s hand, it must be unimaginable. “And what do you get out of this situation?” No one did anything for free.

  “I judged you to be an honorable man, so I’m trusting you with a piece of information precious to me. One of the women who will be escaping with Sage is my daughter. You know her by the name of Blaise.”

  He blinked. The Scythian woman they’d returned. It was a possibility she was a spy. But even if that was the case, he’d welcome her with open arms if it meant having Sage safe at home.

  “She’s the only light in my world.” Maeve’s face snapped to the side. “Our time for speaking has ended. I hope her trust in you is warranted.” She popped up on her toes and kissed both his cheeks. “Take care of the girls and keep them safe.” Her hand curled around his arm, and she pushed him out of the dark and into the window alcove.

  Sam spun and caught a glimpse of her face before the door closed silently, only showing a wall of stone where the door once was. He breathed heavily, panic tugging at his gut. It was a gamble trusting her, but ignoring her words was a bigger gamble.

  He sucked in a huge breath. No matter what, the peace talks could only end one way. In war. The delegation would honestly risk little to go along with her plan. It was Sage who risked everything.

  They had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

  ***

  He entered the room and caught Hayjen’s eye. “I would love some music.”

  Lilja grabbed the fiddle and handed it to her husband, her gaze never leaving Sam. Rafe, Gav, Zachael, and Tehl all focused on him as Hayjen began to play.

  “We have our sign,” he whispered.

  Tehl shot to his feet. “What?”

  Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you the specifics, but I have a plan set in motion. I’ll need everyone’s cooperation. You each have a role to play.”

  “What can you tell us?” Rafe asked.

  “I’ll speak with each of you personally, and Lilja?”

  Her serious eyes met his. “Yes?”

  “I’ll need your help.”

  She nodded.r />
  Tehl strode over to him, his face displaying heavy fatigue, worry having created shadows underneath his eyes.

  “What do I need to do?” Tehl asked.

  “Ruin the peace talks.”

  A dangerous smile crept across his brother’s face, making him resemble a mercenary more than a prince. “With pleasure.”

  Sam released a breath. “So, we begin.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Sage

  It was another day of speeches and promises she knew would never come to fruition. It was a pretty little play. She’d been discreetly yawning behind her hand when Jeren snarled something at Blair.

  “We will never accept your tampering in Aermia. Your monstrosities end here,” the Aermian counselor hissed.

  She still felt the shock of his words in the pit of her stomach. How had they gone from trade to this? The room seemed to drop in temperature as the warlord leaned forward in his chair, the lines of his body rigid.

  “I suggest you leash your delegate before he says something he’ll regret,” the warlord growled.

  The crown price eyed the warlord and straightened. “I apologize for his utter lack of tact, but not for his intent. I understand that your people’s crimes are in the past and should stay there. But my people’s fear and hate for the way you use science has not. If we are to obtain peace, then we need assurances that all your tampering has ceased as well.”

  The warlord cocked his head. “Haven’t I already done so?”

  “So you say.”

  “Are you implying I lied?” the warlord asked casually.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood. She knew that tone intimately. It spoke of danger and pain.

  “No, I am not,” Tehl said. “But we’re concerned not about your past deeds, but rather your draughts used for healing. They go beyond what is natural.”

  The warlord’s brows arched. “You don’t want me to heal my people?”

  “In order to forge our peace alliance, we require all altering to cease. We want no part of your tampering in Aermia.”