by Frost Kay
It wasn’t the first time Tehl seen them, but it still sickened him. The rebel had experienced many horrors in his dungeon. A slight tremor ran through her arm as she ran her finger along a few of the scars.
“Was justice served?” one of his advisers growled.
She paused and looked down the table at his adviser, sending him a vicious smile. “Not yet. But it will be.”
The Methian prince’s eyes were focused on her scarred thigh. “My lady, perhaps showing all your scars off at the table isn’t the best of manners.”
She dropped her foot and didn’t spare the prince any attention. The rebel stared at Gav. “I am sorry if I have embarrassed you, my lord, but beastly questions call for beastly actions.”
Immediately, he could see the guilt in Garviel’s face. Standing abruptly, he bowed to her. “Forgive me, my lady. It was unseemly and unfeeling of me.”
The rebel clasped her simple silver cuffs on her wrists and pieced Gav with her gaze. “Nothing to forgive, my lord.” She squared her shoulders and curtsied to Tehl. “I shall go and freshen up. If you will excuse me, my lords.” She swept down the stairs like a queen, head held high.
Tehl scooted his chair back, ready to go after her. “I believe apologies need to be made to your lady. Enjoy your dinner.” He strode away before anyone could argue.
Again, the dancing crowd parted for him as he tried to catch up to her. Her skirt waved and taunted him as she turned a corner ahead of him. She was going the opposite way of the powder rooms. He stalked her down a couple hallways until he figured out where she was going. He cut through one office and ended up right behind her. “My la…”
She gasped and spun with a kick. Reflexively, he caught her leg and jerked her against him. She flailed backward, toppling them into the wall.
His face was smashed into her neck, and her hair tickled his nose. Her pulse raced against his lips. He tried to move his right hand, but her hair caught in his rings, not to mention it was sandwiched between the stone wall and the curve of her lower back. The more he moved the more tangled it seem to get, she hissed out a pained breath when he accidentally yanked on her hair. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He focused on his other hand and found it still clenching her thigh. “If I let you go, will you hit me?”
“Yes,” she spat. Her words held much vehemence, and she ruffled the hair at the top of his head.
“Okay then. Until you calm down, this is where you will stay.” Tehl spread his fingers and widened his grip on her thigh. Soft skin pressed into his calloused hand. Were all women this soft? And where was that cinnamon smell coming from?
Hunting for it, he ran his nose along the column of her neck. The aroma was stronger behind her ear, intoxicating. His mouth watered. Tehl wanted to run his tongue along her tender throat. His hand shifted on her thigh, and his thumb met the end of her sheathed blade. Tehl snapped back to reality. She wasn’t just a warm, soft body; she was dangerous. He scowled at the faint tremors wracking her body.
“P—please, don’t touch me,” she stuttered out.
Guilt flooded him at what she must be experiencing with him practically mauling her. But then anger burned through his veins, overriding the guilt.
She was the one who attacked him.
She was the one creeping around his home.
She was the traitor.
He opened his mouth, and drunken voices nearing made both of them squint down the corridor. Tehl dropped her leg, jerking back, only to drag her with him.
“Let go,” she seethed, pulling away from him.
“I am stuck,” he growled right back at her, trying to untangle himself from her hair.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. He looked away from the knot of her hair in his rings to see the color had drained out of her face. “No one can find us like this. It would humiliate Rafe.” Her eyes darted left and then right. “There’s nowhere to go.” Her eyes darted rapidly from Tehl, to the wall, and back to the approaching voices. “We need to distract them.” Her brow furrowed and then blanked as her tremors worsened. “You need to embrace me.”
“What?” How would that solve any of their problems? They would be found no matter what. That would make him appear like he was seducing the Methian prince’s woman.
“Listen to them. They’re drunk. They won’t remember anything come morning, or even in a matter minutes. Plus, you can hide my face that way.”
His face soured.
“Believe me.” She glared up at him, eyes full of hate. “I don’t want any part of you touching me. Do you have any better ideas?” Hope shone in her eyes.
He didn’t—there was no escape, and they were out of time. He grabbed the back of her head with his tangled hand and her hip with his other and pushed her back against the wall. She gasped, but not in a good way. Tehl ground his teeth, God, he felt like the villain here. It was her damn idea. “Wrap your leg around my waist.”
She hesitated for a moment and then reluctantly obeyed him, hitching her leg over his hip. He leaned into her and placed his forearm against the wall, blocking anyone’s view of her face from the hallway. Her body shuddered against his as a group of rowdy men rounded the corner.
Their slurred voices made her shudder harder. Her eyes were glazed over, like she was somewhere else. Tehl looked at the frightened creature before him, pity filling him. Softly, he pulled a couple locks of her tangled hair forward and stroked it.
“I will not hurt you, and I won’t let any of those men hurt you, either. It will be okay,” he soothed. Her eyes locked on his, filled with fright. “Shhh…it’s all right, love.” He let go of her hair and cupped her cheek. “Trust me.” That seemed to get to her, she blinked a couple times and then snorted.
Well at least he had broken through her terror.
She darted a glance to the loud group of men who were making crude comments and then back to his face, panic in her eyes. He watched her solemnly as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip coaxing her mouth open. Small panicked breaths puffed out of her lips but at least it didn’t sound like she would pass out anymore.
He tipped her chin up and rested his forehead against hers. “I am going to kiss you, so don’t stab me,” he warned her. He sure didn’t want her to start screaming and have those men think he was assaulting the Methian prince’s lady.
Ever so careful, he brushed his lips along hers: once, twice, and then just pressed them there, staring into her wide green eyes. She stiffened further; even her lips were hard against his. He moved his head back and narrowed his eyes at her. “You need to kiss me back so they don’t think I’m ravaging you in the hallway.”
Her hands shook as they crept up his chest and hesitantly sunk into his hair. Her nails scraped against his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. He tilted her head back and nuzzled her cheek, running his lips along her cheekbone, gently across her lower lip, and up her other cheek.
He inhaled a deep breath of cinnamon and was surprised when her hold tightened on him, just a bit, guiding him back to her lips. A soft kiss danced across his lips, fleetingly. She tilted her head and pressed her curves against him in a way that made his hands want to wander, but the reminder of the daggers hidden on her person kept them in place.
Tehl held her against the wall and angled her head so he could get better access, her breath catching in astonishment. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, or the feel of her in his arms. He wanted more.
Tehl slid his lips sensuously against her full ones, over and over, trying to coax her into opening. When that didn’t work, he traced his tongue along her bow of her top lip to her plush bottom one. That got a response out of her. She pulled on his hair, and he groaned, beseeching her for entrance. Pain exploded on his bottom lip. He jerked back and glowered at her. She’d bitten him.
Whispering wrenched his attention from the woman is his arms. He eyed with disdain the lewd inebriated men blatantly staring. When they recognized his face, theirs paled, all bravado forgotten. “Forgive us, Your Highness,”
they chorused.
“Leave us,” he commanded, his tone icy.
There was a flurry of clumsy bowing and drunken scrambling down the corridor. Her small hand slipped to his bare chest and pushed hard. Tehl stumbled back a few steps and a sharp cry sprang from her lips. His body missed being pressed against her already. He glared at her, pushing aside his ridiculous response to their kiss.
Tehl raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think that through did you, my lady?”
She straightened her skirt and look up at him with fury filled eyes. “It worked perfectly, I didn’t want you to be touching my person anymore and you are not,” she said primly. “I count that a success.”
Tehl rolled his eyes and tried to untangle her hair from his person. “Are you going to tell me what you are doing wandering around here?”
Thirty-Four
SAGE
Sage stilled, everything she had rehearsed flew right out of her mind. It was all she could do not to throw him off of her when he pressed closer. It felt just as when Serge, or should she say Rhys, had his hands all over her. She shuddered and focused back on the irritated prince in front of her.
She watched his large fingers fumble with unknotting her hair from his rings, and she blew out a breath at his incompetence. Sage pushed his hand away.
“By all means, take the lead,” he said sarcastically.
Sage bit back her retort, knowing she needed him to listen to her. Her skin prickled from his gaze. There was nothing she wanted more than to disappear from this place and never set eyes on the crown prince ever again. She focused on unwinding the hair and was blunt. “Marq is in danger, someone will try to kill him tonight.”
He inhaled sharply. Sage didn’t lift her eyes from her task, worried that her anxiety would get the best of her. Was he shocked that she used his father’s name or that he was in danger?
“Who?” His voice was bland.
Was his tone a good sign or bad?
Her muscles coiled, and she casually slipped into a defensive position. She took a deep breath. “Me.”
Silence.
Sage looked into his eyes as emotions crossed his face: shock, concern, fear, anger.
“I never planned on hurting him nor will I in the future. He was nothing but gracious and kind.” Sage glanced down and stared at his sandaled feet. “He doesn’t deserve to die for being sick,” she whispered. She lifted her head and met his hard eyes. They looked like chips of sapphires, frigid but beautiful. “I couldn’t care less what happens to you, but I will not let harm come to your father.”
Questions poured out from him in a frustrated rush. “How did you come by this information? Who sent you? Why would they send you if you will not harm him?”
All logical questions, but she would only actually answer the last one. She grimaced as she yanked the last of her hair from his rings and straightened. She stepped back, out of his reach, and his eyes tracked the movement knowingly.
“It is none of your business who I am, or whom I am working with.” His face flushed with anger. Time for her to get to the point. “Logically,” she began, “I was the best choice. Your father is a known hermit, yet he visited me every day for weeks. They figured we had a special relationship and that he would seek me out tonight.” The words were bitter on her tongue.
The crown prince crossed his arms, thoughtful. “They intended to send you back into the arms of your enemy? I assume they know what happened, so if they still sent you that in itself is telling. What noble masters you serve.”
Her heart clenched—that was exactly what her so-called brothers did. Rafe sat downstairs, celebrating, all the while knowing what he had sent her to do.
“Can’t you see how wrong that is?”
The sympathy in his tone surprised and almost undid her. Sage blinked hard and got a hold of herself. The crown prince paced in front of her as she stared at the floor. “You’re right.”
His pacing stopped, so she pressed on, “My own so-called brothers were willing to send me back here, despite everything that took place. I only want what is best for Aermia, bloodshed and death is not the answer. They didn’t listen though. If I didn’t take the job someone else would have. At least this way I can protect him.”
“How do you plan to do that? If you don’t try someone will replace you, Ruby.” He paused. “Or Salbei or whatever your name is.”
“You can call me Sai,” she offered.
“God save me from spies,” he muttered as he spun and crossed his arms, muscles bulging. Sage eyed him warily, balancing on the balls of her feet. He was a big man, but she was faster. She’d outrun him if necessary.
“I don’t trust you but I can see that, for once, you are being honest. Your affection for my father is obvious so tell me, what do you plan to do?”
This time she paced, the only sound the whispering of the silk swishing along her legs. “You need to stage an attack.”
The crown prince regarded her shrewdly. “You want me to pretend there was an attack on my father?” He threw his hands in the air. “Are you out of your mind? I have the Methian prince sitting in my courtyard along with hundreds of people. Do you know how will they react? The kind of chaos that would ensue?”
“I didn’t mean to make a huge scene. I’ll return to the table. A while later you can rush through the crowd and get Sam and Gav’s attention, the three of you leaving early. Most of them still suspect you have a mistress upstairs you’re not sharing with the world. To others watching it might look like more than it is,” she hinted.
“You are being watched?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
The crown prince let out a harsh laugh. “I can’t believe I am going along with this, but I honestly can’t see any other option if we’re out of time. I will not take a chance with my father’s life.”
“Then I will leave you to it. You have much to accomplish with little time, good evening.” She backed away until she reached another corridor.
“If you are betraying me in any way, you will never see the light of a day again,” he uttered, menace clear.
Her heart sped up at the threat, but she gave him her back, anyway. She was not a coward.
Pausing, Sage considered him over her shoulder and winked. “You would have to find me first.” She sprinted down the hall, rounded another corner before slowing down, once again resuming Lady Salbei’s persona. She neared the courtyard and sent up a prayer. Stars above, let this plan work.
The plan worked.
She returned to the table to be greeted by many admirers. It made her uncomfortable but she was still flabbergasted her at how a little flash of skin and a sad story could turn some of the gruffest men into a puddle of goo.
Rafe seemed to be enjoying himself more since she returned, holding her hand, kissing her temple, or stroking her arm. She was impressed with his acting abilities. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought him truly besotted with her.
A little after midnight, the crown prince came thundering through the crowd. Even though Sage despised everything about him, he was still a thing to behold. His black hair shone underneath a silver crown and she couldn’t help but notice the hungry looks women gave him, their eyes devouring his bare chest and arms. He powered up to their table and nodded to his guests. He whispered in Gavriel’s ear and then Sam’s.
Sam stood and roamed over to her side, a smile creeping across his face that would make any woman’s knees weak. He lifted her hand and gave it a lingering kiss. Completely inappropriate and completely Sam.
“It has been a pleasure to bask in your presence, my lady,” he whispered across her flesh. “I cannot wait for us to get better acquainted.”
Sage barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes and wiping her hand on her skirt. A low grumble came from Rafe that put a sly smile on Sam’s face. Sam looked at her, his eyes smoldering. “Until we meet again, my sweet.”
The three royals bid everyone good night. She studied Rafe out of the corne
r of her eye as he scrutinized their departure. His amber eyes caught hers, a strange glint in them. “My lady, I believe it is time I retire for the night.” A sensuous smile slipped across his lips. “The journey and all of this excitement must have tired you as well.”
She faked a yawn behind her hand. Rafe raised himself out of his chair and offered his hand to her. Sage smiled at him and let him help her up. She bid all the gentlemen goodnight when a gruff voice from the end of the table piped up. She zeroed in on the older man with the ruddy complexion and wiry gray hair.
“My lady, if I might be so bold as to say so, to my old eyes your scars enhance your beauty.” Everyone’s attention at the table concentrate on him. The older man straightened in his chair and sent her a kind smile. “They show your courage, bravery, honor, and willingness to fight back. Fierceness is a fine quality in a woman.” His gaze ran over Rafe, evaluating him, before his faded gray eyes moved back to her. “If you ever find yourself in need of a husband feel free to call upon me.”
Sage’s cheeks heated with his remark though she knew the comment was good-natured. She smiled her first real smile of the night and dipped her head to him. “I will keep that in mind.”
Rafe’s tensed next to her. “She will not find herself in that position though, I assure you,” he said stiffly. Sniggers turned into coughs when he turned his glare on everyone. She had to stifle one herself and look away from the older man’s twinkling eyes. Rafe bid them goodnight and rushed them toward the castle. He beckoned a servant who helped them locate their rooms.
When they first arrived at their guest quarters, the comfortable rooms made her feel right at home, but only for a moment. She quickly brushed it off, keeping in mind to whom these rooms belonged.
A large bed with luxurious carpets and tapestries adorned the walls and floor. The warm hearth invited her closer, so she stared at the flames, waiting for Rafe to start asking questions. She heard him flip the lock and then he was beside her, staring with her into the flames.