Crown's Shield: The Aermian Feuds: Book Two

by Frost Kay

  “Finally, you’re mine,” he sighed, a gorgeous smile lighting his face, and puckering his scar. “Mine. My companion, my mate, after all these years,” he murmured, a look of wonder on his face.

  Sage struggled to form a complete thought with the whirlwind of emotions battling inside her, she felt like a ship in a storm. She wanted to cry, scream, punch, and hug him all at once but she was still hung up on the word ‘mate’. What an old-fashioned word for spouse. She wasn’t ready to be anyone’s mate, and yet she already had a betrothed. Despite all the deceit and anger swirling inside, she couldn’t dismiss him. Sage wanted to say ugly things and hurt him as he had hurt her, but she wouldn’t. This would be the last time they would see each other. She had to send him away with peace between them.

  Sage hesitated a moment before cupping his cheeks. He tilted his face into her touch then turned his face, kissing her palm tenderly. She swallowed her emotions and focused on the man gazing at her in adoration. “Rafe.” She paused, licking her lips, him following the movement with heat in his eyes. Fear spiked through her at the look, but she tamped it down and focused on what she had to say. How was she going to let him down without hurting him? “I… I forgive you, but that doesn’t change the fact that if I do not marry the crown prince, there will be civil war.” Sage dropped her hands and pulled his from around her waist. She clutched them to her chest and kissed each hand. “I am not your mate.” She gave him gave him a pleading look. “Even if I had the choice, I wouldn’t marry. Marriage needs honesty, and you have proven yourself not capable of it. You’re a stranger to me.” She gentled her words by squeezing his hands.

  Sage braced herself when Rafe stilled, all warmth evaporating, his face looking like it was carved from stone. “You are. You belong to only me. I know it.” His tone brooked no argument.

  Her lips thinned while she attempted to control her frustration. “I am not, nor will I ever be, yours. You cannot own someone. They have to give themselves to you, and you give yourself in return. I am sorry.” The sadness in her heart made it hard to speak. She dropped his hands and stretched to her tiptoes, kissing his stubbled cheek, which still hadn’t so much as twitched. “Forgive me,” she whispered, sparing him a final glance before stepping around him, eyes burning with unshed tears.

  His hand wrapped around her bicep, halting her. “Please, I didn’t mean it,” he whispered in a broken voice.

  Sage looked down at his overlapping fingers, then her eyes trailed up to his anguished face. “I understand that you are, but I can’t right now. Please let go.” When he didn’t move she added, “don’t make me fight you, Rafe. Let us part with peace between us.”

  She watched as his eyes seemed to ice over and he looked fierce once again. “I will never let go of my mate. What is it really?” he said coldly. “Are you anxious to run back to the royals’ beds? The three princes seem to hold more affection for you than seems ordinary.”

  His accusation pierced her, and any remorse she felt for hurting him evaporated. Sage wrenched out of his hold and slapped him with everything she had. Her hand pulsed as she pulled back, pain radiating up her arm. Rafe touched his face, abandoning his stone impression, regret softening his face. Sage tucked her hurt hand against her belly and stabbed her other hand at him.

  “You know those rumors to be false. How dare you! You may have sold me to the Crown, but I am not a whore. How dare you speak in such a way!” She glared at him, a tear slipping down her face. “You can only belong to someone if you give yourself to them, I never did, Rafe.”

  “But you’ve always been mine.”

  “What does ‘mine’ even mean? Yours to play with? Manipulate? Train? Lie to? Sell? What Rafe? What?”

  A vicious growl rumbled out of him. “Just mine. Mine to protect, possess, love, and care for.”

  “Why would I trust you with any of those things after what you have done?” Sage swallowed hard. “You’ve hurt me deeper than anyone has. You claim to love me, to want to protect and care for me? But Rafe, you broke me,” she whispered. “You broke me, no one else.”

  Understanding dawned, and shame blanketed his face. He heaved, clutching his stomach like she’d kicked him, and stumbled to the wall, leaning heavily against it. Rafe gurgled twice trying to speak, but it was like words were stuck in the back of his throat. “Breezes of old, what have I done?” he choked out. “Forgive me, little one. I—I failed you.”

  Once again, he dropped to his knees. But this time it didn’t look like he would get up. He looked as broken on the outside as Sage felt on the inside.

  She swallowed and shook her head. How could she forgive him? How many times must she turn the other cheek just for him to stab her again? But the broken man on the floor tugged at her heart. Anger stirred in her gut as guilt still managed to prick her conscience over his feelings. “In time, perhaps,” she muttered woodenly. “But I can’t deal with you right now. Goodbye, Rafe.” She spun, half running to get away.

  “I love you, little one. I’m so sorry. ” His strangled voice echoed behind her.

  Sage pushed herself harder, hoping to outrun the pain, guilt, hate, and love swirling inside her.

  Once she hit ground level, Sage wove through the streets of Sanee toward the castle. The closer she got, the sicker she became. She couldn’t trust Rafe not to disappear with her in the night, and she didn’t trust that one of the rebellion wouldn’t try to have her killed or detained until the three days were up. To go back home, or even to the Sirenidae, would place those she loved in much danger. She slowed her pace and let herself finally process all the feelings she’d held back until now, the tears pouring down her face. Tucking her mussed hair beneath her cloak, she pulled the hood up, wanting to mourn the loss of her freedom with a measure of privacy. She mourned the loss of a life she always thought she could have, the trust and friendship she’d lost with Rafe, and, throughout this whole ordeal, the loss of her very self somewhere along the way. The betrayal, the rejection, every tumultuous feeling in her heart broke free. She wandered around, letting herself settle and trying to get herself together. When finally she’d found a measure of peace, her last tear dry, she’d neared the castle’s outer wall. As she approached, it felt very much like she was walking to her execution. It was then that Lilja materialized at her side. No doubt the Sirenidae had been following her for some time.

  “Heading in early?”

  “No other choice.”

  “Come back with Hayjen and I for the night, or, if you need, we could set sail, perhaps spirit you away from here for now.”

  Her heart squeezed at the sincerity and concern she detected in Lilja’s voice. She didn’t know what she did to deserve such a wonderful friend, but was certainly grateful for Lilja’s support. “Thank you, but no.” She smiled softly. “I have made my choices, and they all lead me here. I cannot let others suffer when it’s within my power to prevent it, nor can I continue to sacrifice the safety of my family for my own freedom, no matter how I long for it.”

  “Difficult as this may be, I hope you know: you are making a wise decision, ma fleur.”

  Sage nodded, swallowed, and stepped through the gate. Her heart raced as they passed through the second gate and into the courtyard. She spotted the Elite training on her right, and she watched briefly, before a familiar head of salt and pepper hair caught her attention. She meandered toward the training yard, pressing past several Elite who sent questioning glances her way. Pretending not to notice, she leaned against the fence to watch the sparring. Zachael slammed his sword into his opponent, twisting and striking with a speed that made her smile. Finally, the older man placed the tip of a dagger underneath the younger man’s chin. The young soldier nodded, and the combat master removed the dagger from the man’s throat. He glanced her way, and she registered surprise on his tanned face. Apparently he wasn’t expecting her. Sage forced a grin. “Is that all you’ve got, old man?” A sea of eyes turned to her, the attention prickling uncomfortably under her skin. She su
ppressed the desire to run away, panicked, and lifted her chin.

  His eyes sparkled as he placed the tip of his sword in the dirt. “Old man? Who, exactly, are you talking to, Sage? I don’t see anyone of that description here.”

  “That last trick an infant could have executed.” Male sniggers surrounded them. Lilja muttered something about picking a fight and being upset, but she ignored it for now. “Plus, that’s not how you handle a sword.”

  “Why don’t you show me how it’s done, little miss?”

  The sniggers stopped at the combat masters taunt. She smiled inwardly at the looks of interest from the elite. She may have to put on a false front in every other area of her life right up until she died but this was one place she would never have to. Clambering up the fence, she swung a leg over and dropped into the practice ring.

  “Daggers or swords?” she questioned.

  “Both?”

  This time, her grin was genuine. Daggers were unquestionably her favorite blades. Zachael returned her grin with a wicked smile, though it was not unfriendly, and she decided then that she would like this man. Maybe she would spend her time here, training with the Elite. It would certainly be both beneficial and enjoyable. She pulled her own sword from its scabbard, excitement bubbling inside her for the first time in a long while. She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. It was an odd thing that always happened, that and her blood sang just before she sparred. Sage loved a good bout. She stepped toward the combat master and allowed herself another smirk.

  “I hope you’re prepared to lose.”

  The older man grinned. “En garde.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tehl

  He finally finished up the stacks of necessary paperwork to restore the homes destroyed by the Scythian raids. Tehl sighed and sat back, trying to work out the kinks in his spine as he admired the pink evening sky. Sunsets were his favorite.

  A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his moment of peace.

  “Enter.”

  Sam sauntered in, a smile plastered on his face in a way that put him on edge. That particular smile never boded well.

  “I have some interesting news.”

  “Oh?” he asked, warily.

  His brother’s smile widened. “It seems your betrothed is putting Zachael through his paces.”

  Tehl blinked. Betrothed? So she had arrived then? She actually came? Mixed feelings of anxiety and relief warred within him. There wouldn’t be a civil war, but it meant fighting his own mini-war at home, one he must battle alone while seeming at peace in public. Sam’s words finally registered in his mind, distracting him from the depressing direction of his thoughts. Paces? “She’s doing what?”

  “She’s annihilating him. Come and see for yourself.”

  Tehl stood, rushing toward the door, but just as suddenly, jerked to a stop before actually going through it. Once he was on the other side of that door, everything would change.

  Sam bumped his shoulder, studying him with serious eyes.

  “Are you prepared for this? From this moment on, things can never go back to they are now.” He paused. “You know I will be by your side. I will support you every step of the way in this…and I’ll do the same for Sage.”

  Surprised, Tehl stared at his brother with raised brows.

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look. You don’t have to leave your home, friends, family, and everything familiar behind. You were born into this life. As a matter of fact, it’s all you know, yet despite this, it’s still difficult at times. She’s being thrown into this mess without any preparation and very little understanding.”

  Tehl nodded, acknowledging his brother’s point. He couldn’t begrudge her the support she would obviously need. Ruling was no cakewalk; it was a grueling set of ever-present responsibilities and burdens. He straightened his spin and stepped forward. Time to move ahead.

  He shoved the door open, moving down the stairs and through the castle with Sam trailing behind him, silently. Tehl strode into the training yard but quickly halted to marvel at the match taking place in the ring. Sage and Zachael were engaged in a deadly dance: twisting, spinning, lunging, and blocking so fluidly that a surge of pride welled up within him. He may not have asked for this bride, but Sage had potential to be a remarkable queen. She was ferociously beautiful with sweat beading her brow and a slight smile touching her lips, her sword flashing. For the first time since Tehl had met her, she looked truly exquisite; she looked free.

  “My god,” Sam breathed. “You’re marrying a damn warrior goddess. I think I’ve got betrothal envy.”

  Tehl snorted, never taking his eyes off the green-eyed woman currently out maneuvering his combat master. “You love too many women.”

  “I would be a one-woman man for her.”

  He winced as Zachael landed a heavy blow, knocking her to her knees, but in response, she swept his legs out from underneath him. The combat master crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust. Before he could rise, she touched both her dagger and sword to the man’s neck.

  “Yield.”

  Tehl tried not to gape when his combat master broke into the largest grin he had ever witnessed on the older man’s face.

  “Well done, missy, it has been a long time since someone could best me.”

  Sage threw her head back and laughed, the joyful sound putting smiles on the faces of all in the area. Tehl hung back, still observing, as the Elite moved in on her. One helped her up from the ground, another flirted, and yet another one inquired about her blades. Shortly, though, she shied away from them, the genuineness of her smile bleeding away as it turned forced.

  “You better go claim your betrothed before another attempts to steal her away.” Sam clasped him on the shoulder. “Ready yourself, brother. You need to play a ridiculously besotted version of yourself. Everyone knows you’re awkward.”

  Tehl flashed Sam a filthy look and marched toward his men as they circled Sage. One caught his gaze and bowed before moving. In the blink of an eye, the others followed suit, and he found himself standing before her. Sage blinked repeatedly, her hands tightened on her dagger. Warily, he closed the distance between them. Before he could second guess himself, or give her the opportunity to stab him, he wrapped his arms around her hips, lifting her so they were the same height. Gazing into her startled eyes, he pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. It wasn’t even a kiss, rather it was simply a pressing together of mouths. She dipped her head so her loose hair curtained around their faces. Sage slipped her arms around his neck, never looking away, and her eyes narrowed. Her expression promised retribution. He scowled back. He hadn’t even really kissed her.

  Whistles and crass jokes interrupted their stare off. Tehl pulled back and slowly lowered her to the ground, like he was reluctant to let her go. In reality, he was only hoping her arms could stay where they were so he’d know she wasn’t grabbing her weapons.

  She dropped her gaze, now staring at his wrinkled shirt. He ran his hands down her arms to cup her elbows, wishing he could see her face. If he could see her face, he could anticipate her next move. Her body tensed under his hands, and she tilted her head just enough so that the flat line of her mouth was visible. So concerned about selling his performance, he didn’t think about how she would react. If she didn’t wipe the rage off her face, everything would be ruined before it even started. He leaned down to her ear. “Smile, darling.”

  Sage darted a quick glance to the Elite but wiped all expression from her face when she seemed to spot something. Tehl followed her line of sight to the exotic woman from the treatise meeting, Captain Femi. The white-haired captain gazed back evenly at the girl. They stared at each other as if in silent conversation.

  Sage’s eyes shuttered as she turned back to him. He could tell she reeled in her anger, and then she slipped into character.

  “I came early. I hope that’s all right.” She peered up at him through her lashes, placing a hand on his chest. “I just couldn�
��t stay parted from you,” she murmured with a sly smile.

  Tehl blinked at her, coughing once. She was good when she wanted to be. “This is where you belong.” She blinked at him and raised an eyebrow.

  Heat scorched the back of his neck. That was the best he could come up with? He wanted to bang his head on the fence. Tehl slid one hand to the back of her neck and licked his lips. Maybe he should just kiss her again and stop making an ass of himself.

  Something flashed through her eyes when he leaned toward her. Then the world tilted, and his breath was knocked out of him. Tehl blinked, disoriented. How had that happened? A smug feminine face entered his vision as she squatted beside him, her hand still on his wheezing chest.

  “My prince,” she cooed. “I think you need to keep your hands to yourself. We are yet to be married. What would your people think of such displays of affection?”

  Tehl growled at her, his lungs screaming. His focus shifted to the Elite leaning closer to catch every word. Gossip whores. Sometimes, his men were worse than the old biddies of his court.

  Zachael stepped next to him, teeth flashing in an amused grin. “You need practice, my prince. She swept your feet clean out from under you well before you knew what was happening.”

  “She tends to do that,” Tehl remarked in a dry tone.

  Sage brushed her chestnut hair from her face as she stood. Tehl waited to see if she would extend her hand. When you knocked someone down during a bout, it was good sportsmanship to help them up. A moment passed and another. Well, he had his answer. He started to sit when she shoved her hand into his face. Tehl eyed it like it was a snake. Would she help him up or try to drop him again?

  Her hand wiggled in front of his face impatiently. An idea took root in his mind that made him want to grin. It was time to channel his brother. He grasped her hand and jerked it, pulling her off her feet. She stumbled and fell onto his chest in a heap. A bitty growl bubbled from her throat. Check mate. “My lady, I am not concerned about what anyone thinks.” She struggled to stand, but he kept her still, banding his arms around her waist. Raising his voice, he asked, “I assure you that most of the surrounding men are green with envy, am I right?”