by Frost Kay
Grief and shame choked her, sucking the fight right out of her. It was too much; her pain wouldn’t be contained any longer. Sparkling drops dripped down her bruised face in rivulets. Sage closed her eyes, shutting out everyone. She was weak.
Large arms wrapped around her pressing her into a wide hard chest. “Let it all out, darling.”
Her breath seized.
He caged her.
Trapped her.
Sage writhed against him. “Get your filthy paws off me!” she screamed, blinded by her tears. He tightened his grip and whispered things she couldn’t understand through her panic. The world spun. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart would burst. He needed to stop touching her.
“My lord, you are making her worse, please let go of her,” Mira pleaded.
“No, Mira, she needs this.” His tone of voice brooked no argument. “Let it out, Ruby, it’s okay.”
No, nothing was okay.
Her enemy held her.
Sage couldn’t protect herself.
She was damaged.
Weak.
Sage cried harder, trembling as he held her steady. Something broke open inside her, and she wasn’t sure how to put it back together. Samuel’s large hand tunneled under her hair and rubbed the back of her skull. Sage cried herself out and hiccupped, her throat raw. She lay limply against the spymaster’s wet chest, thoroughly wrung out. It was then she noticed Mira had moved to her other side, tenderly combing her fingers through Sage’s hair, singing.
She stared at the fire, wishing she could burn away everything she was feeling. Emptiness and pain were her companions. The spymaster’s breath tickled the hair at her crown. She needed him to stop touching her skin. Sage pulled every last drop of strength and courage she possessed and begged. “Please have mercy, let go of me. Every touch feels like them.”
“It’s okay, Ruby. Those men have been taken care of and they can’t hurt you here. We will protect you. My brother has ordered it. If you would prefer me not to be here, I can send Gavriel.”
A hazy memory of purple eyes and a man unchaining her resurfaced. Her savior. “I like Gavriel.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating her cheek. “Most do; he is a good man.”
He gave her a little squeeze, which unsettled her, her skin prickling. She really wished he would let her go. If she wasn’t so weak from illness, she’d have the strength to make him let go. She hated being weak, but every muscle in her body was tired. Her stomach growled, breaking the silence that had settled upon them.
“It sounds like you’re in need of some breakfast.” His arms released her and Sage avoided his eyes by scrutinizing the fire. “I know you don’t trust me, but please at least trust this will all work out.” The spymaster’s attention shifted to the young healer. “I will send someone with her breakfast, and Gavriel will stay tonight.” He patted her shoulder. “Speedy recovery to you.”
Sage shrugged his hand off, ignoring him. He sighed as he stood. She listened as he crossed the room and exited, his footsteps fading down the hall. Sage’s eyes returned to Mira. “What’d he mean, breakfast?” she questioned.
“You’ve slept a full day, it’s nearly dawn. The sun should rise any minute.”
She had lost an entire day. What day was it? “Where is Jacob?” she wondered out loud.
Mira folded the blankets, placing them on her cot. “Prince Samuel sent him to bed last night before he settled here for the evening. We will move you to your new room today.”
She didn’t want to leave the infirmary. It was safer here than anywhere else.
Mira continued, “I will stay with you until you’re healthy enough to leave.”
Equal parts of sadness and jealousy swirled through her at Mira’s naïvety. She would never leave this place. Even if she gave up information, the Crown wouldn’t think of releasing a valuable asset. Escape was her only option.
Jacob swept in, smelling of herbs and disturbing her thoughts. He stepped in front of the fire, a warm smile on his face. “It’s fantastic to see you sitting up by yourself! Progress is a wonderful thing. I have other good news. A chamber is ready for you and Mira to relocate to today.” He gestured to the guards standing nearby. “These gentlemen will help move you to your new abode, and Mira will help settle you in. I’ll check up on you daily, but Mira will be your support until we can boot that sickness from your lungs. Garreth, if you please, pick up the lovely miss Ruby and follow me.”
As the soldier approached, she forced herself to hold her ground and not scramble away. She focused on his face, telling herself over and over that he was not her torturer, though she went rigid the moment his hand touched her.
“Easy there, love,” his deep voice whispered. “I am just going to carry you; no harm will befall you. My arms are going underneath your shoulders and knees and that’s all; I won’t move them.”
He plucked her from the cot and cradled her in his arms. Her eyes closed. Even though she chanted in her head that he would not harm her, the terror was still there. She dug deep for some humor in the situation. Sage finally settled on: “I am not your love.”
“I suppose not.” Despite having her eyes closed she could hear the smile in his voice.
Her eyelids stayed tightly shut. Sage knew they went up three flights of stairs, made a left turn, and then a right. A door creaked, and she was placed on something soft. By the time she opened her eyes, the guard was already heading out the door, and Jacob and Mira were the room’s only other occupants. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
Just before leaving, the guard looked over his shoulder with a wink. “My pleasure, love.” Then the door closed.
“Stubborn man,” she grumbled to herself.
Her new cage was stunning, more beautiful than she ever could have expected. She’d been placed on a giant four-poster bed that was crafted from the pale aqua wood of the jardintin tree. They only grew in the coral sands of Blested Beach, and their wood was rare and highly prized. White, gauzy curtains were draped from post to post, floating around the bed. Rich, dark blue carpets covered the stone floor and deep cushioned chairs were scattered around the spacious room in a sea of colors. A large fireplace occupied the wall adjacent her bed, its mantle comprised of purple shells, shimmering abalone, and dainty starfish. Next to the fireplace, two large doors of pale wood overlooked the sea, their tops filled with glass forming a window. Royal blue drapes of brocade bracketed the doors, their base embroidered with exotic fish.
The room embodied opulence.
Sage ran her hand along the crisp white coverlet upon which she sat. Compared to her pristine surroundings, she looked just like the street rat she professed to be.
“How do you like your new home?” Jacob asked.
“It’s gorgeous. I’ve experienced nothing like it, and there’s only one thing that could make it better.”
“What would that be my dear?” Jacob asked curiously.
“A bath,” she said. Sage glanced at her hands and grimaced. “I feel like I’ll leave a trail of filth everywhere I go.”
A giggle snuck out of Mira, and she placed a hand across her mouth, attempting to cover it. The sound loosened something in Sage, bringing a genuine smile to her face.
“I am sure you will have to burn this shift,” she said, pointing to Sage’s sweat covered linen.
The Healer chuckled and nodded his head. “Mira will draw you a bath, and I will let the kitchen know where to send your breakfast. I’ll be in tonight to check on you before I find my own bed. Enjoy your day, my dear.” Jacob patted her hand and quit the room.
Sage watched as Mira first stoked the fire, then buzzed around the suite, getting things settled. She slumped into the pillows, surprised to see a mosaic on the ceiling. It was a beautiful array of blues, greens, and yellows; it was like she was beneath the sea, looking up at its surface. “So, what do we do now?”
“We get you healthy.”
Sage rolled her eyes, then craned her neck to see the blonde. “Yes,
I know, but will we be able to leave the room when I can walk?”
Mira’s face became guarded.
That was a no.
“It will be some time before you regain your strength. Let’s concern ourselves with that when the time comes.”
“So basically, no then?”
Mira sent her an apologetic smile and disappeared into the bathroom. “Just wait until you see this bathroom,” Mira called, her voice echoing.
She stared at the ceiling, with the sound of running water in the background. Sage had been nowhere with working plumbing. How did it all work? When she took her bath, she would have to inspect the pipes.
Mira bustled out, brushing damp strands from her face. In another setting, she and Mira would have been friends. She was a sweet caring woman, when the time came to make her escape, she’d do everything in her power to make sure Mira wasn’t blamed.
“Bath time?” she asked, excited at the prospect.
Mira grinned at her. “I have to no desire to continue dealing with your smell as I try to sleep. It’s time to get you washed up.”
Sage grinned back at her. Oh yeah. Mira would be a great friend and ally in this horrid place.
Twenty-Two
TEHL
Tehl’s days melted into each other. Each day would start out with monotonous planning for the Midsummer Festival—discussions that would inevitably dissolve into arguments over colors, decorations, or budgets. There was also the usual comment regarding his mother’s role in times past, which always frustrated him. Did they not realize he missed her as well? Without fail, he always ended the meetings with a headache—or the impulse to run screaming from the room.
Once that nightmare ended, he would be pulled into the war council where again, sensible discussion dissolved into arguments over whose idea should be acted upon. It was ridiculous. They were all suggesting the same thing, just in different ways. It boiled down to this: everyone wanted to either go to war or send spies to Scythia.
However, the moment a man of theirs stepped foot on Scythian soil, it’d be considered an act of war. This point sparked a heated debate among the council, on whether it was worth the risk. Sam believed it was, as did Tehl, though the former worried that, were their spy to be discovered, Scythia would make an immediate retaliatory strike. And, as Sam had yet to extract even a word from the Scythian woman, they didn’t have the information needed to make their chances of success feasible. No, they would have to wait to spy on the enemy nation until they had more of an idea of what they’d be getting into once they were over there.
Finally, Tehl ended each day entertaining his court at dinner in the place of his father. The never-ending stream of scantily clad debutants throwing themselves at him was tiresome. He couldn’t quite figure out why they did that squished-lips thing. They resembled fish. When he’d asked Lady Rose about it, her expression of outrage practically singed his hair off. She’d then snapped her fan shut and stomped away in a bustle of rustling skirts; this too, confused him, as it was an honest and impersonal question. He didn’t understand why it was so offensive. He would want to know if he was making a face that was so incredibly unattractive.
Ladies of noble birth preened and simpered before him everywhere he went. It perplexed him that they would put themselves in a compromising situation simply to get his attention, since they knew he could marry none of them. The old law dictating Royalty must marry only those of common birth kept Aermia united. Each group would thus be represented by their own member of the monarchy: one for the nobility and one for the citizens.
Even as he made his way from the training area each morning to his personal dining room, young women seemed to stop him at every point. That morning Tehl tried to be more inconspicuous, hoping to reach breakfast sometime before noonday. He scoped out the corridor, searching for any sign of a woman, and saw none, until he spied one of his Elite, Garreth, walking briskly toward him with a young woman in his arms, Mira trailing behind him. The healer gave him a small smile and Garreth nodded respectfully as they passed.
Tehl’s breath stilled when he saw the young woman’s face. It was the rebel. Her hair tumbled out of its braid and stuck to her damp face. The pallor of her skin made her black hair seem as though it had sucked in all the surrounding color. What struck him most was her face. Her cheeks were sucked in, her brow furrowed, as though she were in terrible agony. Her hands clutched Garreth’s tunic so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Garreth jogged up the stairs and vanished from his view. Why was she in so much pain? Where were Garreth and Mira taking her? He needed to ask Sam; his brother always knew what was going on these days.
Tehl jogged to the dining room surprised to find his brother crunching on some bacon there, alone. Tehl had left the training yard before Sam, yet here he sat, already eating. How did he manage it? Tehl shook his head in mirth and flopped down into his chair.
“How did you get here before me? I left before you did; and don’t tell me your skills are better than mine.” He eyed his brother while snatching up an apple pastry.
Sam cracked a smile and threw one muscular leg over the chair arm. His brother plucked a raspberry off his plate, inspecting it closely. “I am better than you, I walked right by you.” Sam’s familiar blue eyes snapped to his. “You were gawking at Ruby.”
Tehl tensed at his brother’s comment. “Ruby? On a first name basis, are we? I thought she was an asset, and that we didn’t use her name.” He sat back, crossed his arms, waiting for his brother’s retort.
Sam tossed the berry into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “She is not an ordinary asset. With what she has gone through she deserves to be called by her name. I’ve been thinking. If we treat her differently, she may become not a prisoner but an ally. We need someone like her. She has surprising battle skills, not to mention a strong will that rivals yours. She could be the key to ending the rebellion, not with brute force, but with us all uniting against Scythia.” Sam paused, tapping his finger on his chin. “It would take careful maneuvering.”
So that’s what this little speech was about: he wanted the rebel to spy for him. “I assume your ‘maneuvering’ has already begun.” A smug smile crept across his brother’s face that answered his question. Tehl snagged a fluffy biscuit for himself, buttering its surface thoughtfully.
“So, I can thank you for having her moved this morning, I take it?” He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye while drizzling honey on the flakey biscuit.
Sam leaned his head back and steepled his hands underneath his chin. “Her fever broke, so it was time we had her moved somewhere more secure.”
Tehl bit into his biscuit and let the sweet and buttery goodness melt in his mouth. A groan slipped out. What did the cook put in these? They were delicious. He examined the golden biscuit as though it would solve the kingdom’s problems.
“Trying to get that biscuit to tell you all its secrets, brother?” His brother’s voice held laughter. Tehl spared Sam a glance, and his brother wiggled his eyebrows. “Did you even listen to a word I said?”
Tehl smiled sheepishly.
Sam sighed and began muttering to himself. His lips fought a smile; there was nothing more Sam hated than to have to repeat himself. Sam blew out an annoyed breath and continued. “As I was saying…before you and your biscuit got intimately acquainted…I had her moved into one of the smaller suites in our wing.”
Tehl spat out his biscuit and watched as it smacked Sam right on the cheek. Sam reached up and brushed the gooey pastry off his face in disgust. His brother meticulously wiped his hand on his napkin and pinned him with a glare. “Now that was just rude,” he murmured.
Tehl sniggered at the disgust on his brother’s face. The longer he stared at Sam, the funnier it became. Gut-wrenching laughter boomed out of him as Sam’s face pinched even more. “Sorry, but it’s funny…” he said between peals of laughter.
At that, Sam’s irritated expression broke. Before long, his brother was laughing a
s hard as he was. Tehl took a gasping breath and grinned. “I haven’t done something like that since I was a child.”
Sam mirrored his grin with a devilish glint in his eye. “It’s all right, I will get you back sooner or later,” he stated casually.
That remark wiped the smirk from the crown prince’s face.
Sam was the master of pranks.
Sam’s smile turned predatory, like a leviathan smiling at a seal.
Never show fear.
Tehl straightened his shoulders, feigning confidence. “We’ll see about that.”
He ran his hand thoughtfully along the dark stubble on his cheek. Sam did nothing without good reason. “So you moved a dangerous rebel into the royal wing, not the guest quarters?”
Sam squinted. “That’s what I just said.”
Tehl mulled it over. It made sense to keep her close to them so they could watch her. There would be less chance of someone meeting her then. Not to mention if she tried to escape it would be significantly harder for her to do so. There weren’t many rooms available. The only ones were…
His gaze locked with his brothers. “You know how this will look right? An unattached woman living in our wing? Those rooms were used for mistresses in the past and the occasional visiting family member. Everyone knows she’s not family.”
Sam’s lips formed a smirk.
Realization dawned on him. “That’s what you want them to assume.”
Sam swung his leg to the floor and scooted to the edge of his seat. “Precisely. You were seen running through the palace with a half-naked girl in your arms and your two closest friends trailing you. Rumors are already circling about whom the new mistress belongs to. Many had already tried to get into the infirmary to meet her out of curiosity. This way no one can get to her except those we allow. Our court assumes she is involved with one of us, so it won’t seem odd for her to be staying close by. It is better than the alternative, having any of them knowing the truth,” Sam said. “She draws attention everywhere she goes. We need to control how she is perceived by others. People rarely look past the surface. They see what they expect to see. Gav and I have been noted entering at night and leaving the infirmary in the morning. By keeping her inaccessible it will keep our court guessing and thus focused on the wrong thing.”