by Cara Coe
He stooped his head to kiss her again but Amelie stopped him with a hand pressed to his chest. His eyebrows creased together in question. Amelie kept the hand on his chest and pushed him slightly. The question in his eyes turned to a respectful resignation as he took this action to be a sign that they, for tonight, would remain physically separate. But Amelie kept the pressure on his chest and he allowed himself to be rocked backwards until he was no longer leaning over her but sitting in front of her.
She had him lift his arms and removed his tunic. The questioning look crept back onto his face. Amelie answered it by straddling him where he sat, facing him, taking his face in her hands. She shifted her position slightly so that he easily entered her. Her movements against him caused him to shudder.
His hands moved to her back, pressing her against him. Silently, she rocked her body over his. She moved quietly, their foreheads bent together, sharing the air between each other. There was a need in his expression and it was deep, going beyond this moment.
His grip on her back tightened. The length of him filled her. She moved in slow circles, enjoying the feeling of Seth inside her. Her breathing increased with his. She heard his breaths take on an erratic rhythm and she knew he was close to release. She felt him withhold and leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. His eyes locked onto hers and she held them as she increased her movements, driving him to the brink. She lost his gaze as his face contorted in ecstasy, his teeth biting his lower lip against the noise. He was beautiful to her as she watched his blue eyes cloud over and clear. His breaths were deep and ragged. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. She took her liberties as he recovered, kissing his temple, his jaw. Stroking the spot behind his ear.
She then stretched back out on her pallet and pulled his arm to lie down with her. He resisted. She propped herself back up on her elbows and this time it was she who wore the questioning look. Would he not stay?
Seth took his hand and placed it on her thigh. He watched her as he lowered his head and kissed her there. Her breath hitched and her head rolled back. He kissed her again, lower, inner. She sighed. When he placed the next kiss even more intimately, she drew back and narrowed her eyes. He pulled himself up over the length of her and put one hand on her cheek. The pad of his thumb stroked the spot there and his eyes asked her for his trust. She covered his hand with her own and gave a hesitant nod. Smiling, he kissed her stomach then settled back down between her thighs. She tensed immediately but it quickly changed as heat grew under her skin. His kisses transformed into an exploration, his tongue caressing sensitive peaks and folds. Pleasure came in sporadic waves, mounting on top of one another until her back arched involuntarily.
Seth grabbed her free hand, the one that wasn't clutching her blanket in spasms, and kissed her palm as she came back down. Her eyes found his and his return smile was warm and full of love. He scooted up on the pallet and pulled her to him.
And she lay there in bliss until the world dropped away.
Chapter 40
Seth
It was quiet. She was asleep; he could feel the heaviness of it. She had spent the entire evening around camp keeping time with him. Balancing her movements with his. Aware of his proximity. Stealing glances when she didn't think he was looking.
He spent much of the night doing the same.
As they parted, as she walked back to her camp, his muscles twitched with the effort not to run after her and scoop her into his arms. He waited a patient three hours to talk strategy with his captains, share a somber brandy with his men, and see his soldiers to sleep. He and Talon exchanged a silent understanding. Talon had not spoken a word when Seth found him and Derrick and asked them to follow him to the northern border of Candor. Now, with the look that passed between them, their disagreement was buried. Their friendship was restored.
“The men will retire now,” Talon said, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We have no need of you, Prince.”
Seth had wasted no time carving a determined path to her tent.
Now her back curved into his abdomen and pushed rhythmically against his body with her deep breaths of slumber. Her leg followed his, bent against his own, her foot pushed against his shin. Her skin was so dark. A deep brown, making his leg look pale in comparison. His hand caressed it lightly wanting to touch her in as many places as he could without disturbing her. He liked his liberal permission to gaze on her wherever and as intensely as he wished without her stirring in embarrassment.
His fingers ran over the jagged healing of her scar where the arrow sliced her skin that day at the lake and he had to still his hand for the feelings inside him welled up and his body had trouble containing them. She would be all right tomorrow. He was sure of it. As long as he was never two feet from her side, as long as he could draw his sword, nothing would cut her down. He believed with all his soul that fate would not dangle her life in front of him for a third time.
He pressed a kiss against her shoulder and she stirred enough to wriggle around and face him sleepily.
"Are you still awake?" she murmured, her eyes still closed.
He placed another kiss lightly on her forehead and she groaned, stretching into him and subsequently brushing her curled hair below against his groin. He immediately hardened in response but she settled her head in the crook of his arm unaware of the effect she was having on him.
"What time is it?" she slurred.
"Not yet morning," Seth answered. "Go back to sleep, my love."
"Don't leave, Seth," she whispered.
His heart hammered. "Never, Amelie," he said, brushing the hair off her cheek but he wasn't sure she heard him because the heaviness of her sleep descended upon them once again. "Never," he repeated taking her hand and following suit, closing his eyes against the night.
Chapter 41
Amelie
"I understand why you are doing this. You are a strong woman and will make a powerful queen, one Candor needs. But you are to be my wife and in this request, you will obey me: you are not to leave my side."
"Seth-"
"No. You listen. You will lead your people into battle. I will be one of those people and I will follow you everywhere on that battlefield. But death will fall on me before it touches you, by the Angels, I swear it. I trust no one else to the task."
Amelie clearly saw the fierce determination in his expression and quite frankly she wanted him close to her as strongly as he wanted to be near her. In this she had no argument save for the last part of his declaration but she kept that to herself.
"You’re my soulguard. I understand."
Seth shook his head, his eyes full of admiration and frustration all at once. "Somehow I think you will still find a way to test me out there, love. Unintentional as it may be."
He stole a quick kiss, then passed her the daggers she always kept on her side and a canteen of water. Together, they moved to the tree meeting General Tatum and Draeden's Captain Turk in the thick of the army camp. All eyes were on Amelie and she carried the stares like bricks on her shoulders.
"We will move that way," she said, pointing east of the field to a section of hills in the distance.
General Tatum narrowed his eyes. "If we march west, we'll surround them your Majesty. It will be a quicker fight."
Amelie licked her lips nervously. She knew the general would say as much but she'd thought about this the evening before, reflecting on these decisions in her tent. "That is true, General. The hills cause a much narrower entry, but it allows us elevation in our attack and more lives will be spared. If we are losing, retreat is quicker. We can regroup and change tactics."
The soldiers eyed her with distrust. They were more experienced in battle tactics than she and her position on the matter was faltering. Seth found her hand and laced his fingers through hers before giving them a squeeze. Trust your instinct, his gesture told her.
She stiffened her composure. "Gentlemen," she addressed them with authority. "I know your years
in the training field make you better able to read battle strategy. I appreciate that knowledge and I call on it now. My goal for this fight is to send a message to Grantham that we are united and ready to fight with as little loss of life as possible. So if you have a more effective way to accomplish this than marching the hills, I shall be most grateful to hear it." No man said anything and Amelie added with passion, "I will not win this with bloodied numbers."
Captain Turk cleared his throat. "Then I think the hills do make the best course of action," he agreed. "The men will tire from the length of the fight, but we can keep a rotating front line." He cut Seth a quick look before adding, “If you wish to avoid deaths, the magic you possess would be most effective.”
Amelie expected this and had a response ready. “We are a kingdom of humans. A human will be her ruler. While I do not deny my mage half, it is not what will win this war.”
“You mean this battle?” Captain Turk corrected.
Amelie’s stern look fixed on him. “No,” she answered. “I mean this war. This battle is a crack in the kingdom that needs repairing before it stretches into Draeden as well. I am no better than the soldier beside me and my knowledge of that will solidify us, not mage tricks. Ready the troops."
Chapter 42
Amelie
The armor Amelie cursed only yesterday proved its worth one hundred times over in the thick of battle. More than one weapon shoved against it, its wielder caught off guard by the presence of it and forced to draw back to deliver a deeper blow. It was during these second attempts that Amelie inflicted the most damage. Deprived of her horse, she shoved her short sword into whatever pliable target she could find on her enemy. Captain Lucas had taught her about the impenetrable metal of their northern enemies. He showed her how to slice at their weaker, exposed areas, forcing them to amend their attacks and waiting for the opening to drive a point into their eye socket or in the thin line of exposure between helmet and breast plate.
They were slower because of it. They were losing.
Her other armor, a determined prince of flesh and bone and glittering, angry blue eyes, stood at her back, shielding her from attacks she could not see. She heard his grunts as took on even more soldiers than she. Tall and fierce, he drew a lot more enemy attention than her smaller stature and scrappy methods of parrying.
This gave her moments with which to study the field. The Grantham general kept pushing his line forward through the narrowed path, using his numbers to weaken them. Talon stood on one of the hills, downing scouts that attempted to gain height to see how much more of the troops they had left to fight. With no clear view beyond the hills, it was impossible. The Grantham general was gambling with a dangerous hand.
It was taking several rotations of Candor and Draeden troops, but the Grantham army was growing weary. They had expected an attack to their west. Their heavy artillery and skilled soldiers had finally made their way to the eastern frontline but not before much blood was spilled and morale was low.
Amelie took refuge behind a line of Draeden soldiers. She drew deep, replenishing breaths and accepted a bag of water from one of the men. Seth gulped his own bag nearby. Sweat ran like rivers down his forehead and by his ears. His face was a mess of smudged dirt, blood, and grass. Though they were shielded from the worst of it, a strong grip remained on his sword.
"The general will pull out," Amelie said. "I can see it in his countenance. His horse is uneasy, stepping from side to side. It can feel its rider's nervousness."
Seth raised his eyebrows, impressed. "One more rotation? We can put our heavy clubbers in front and your archers right behind. Attack them hand to hand and just beyond to finish it quickly."
Amelie was about to agree when she saw an arrow hit Talon deep in his throat. He stumbled a moment, bow still poised to shoot before his own arrow fell limply to the ground and his body behind it. The gasp that erupted from Amelie was slight but even in the din of battle, Seth heard it and turned to see his friend fall.
Enemy soldiers clamored to the rocks, a free pass where Talon had held them off before.
Seth flinched in his instinct to run to him, his first oath of protection to Amelie. It was only a shocked moment that passed before she began to sprint towards Talon, screaming at the archers to retrain their aim. Seth followed close at her heels.
The ones she passed that heard her order obeyed and began picking off the soldiers that climbed the rocks. There were too many, though. They swarmed like ants to food now that the threat of a close-ranged arrow was gone.
Amelie cut behind clusters of her men to ascend the hill on the slope. Several soldiers joined her to hold the elevation.
She met the Grantham men as they crested the top, her daggers flashing. She had dropped her sword somewhere along her frantic run as she ripped the necklace from her neck. The daggers nicked her opponents swiftly. Wrists, kneecaps, the soft fabric covering shoulders where arm plates didn't quite reach. Anywhere the armor had to part so the soldier could bend a joint, she cut. She left them broken for the soldier behind her to finish off.
She was too close to the enemy. Her daggers were too short. Too many lucky swipes were used to dodge killing blows. When enough men had joined the fight to hold the hill, Amelie ran to Talon's side and knelt before him. Blood gurgled from his mouth.
She pulled the last of the moonstone tonic from her side satchel and drank. The liquid warmed her veins and she dizzied from the rush. Instructions to sip it were not going to save her friend and she gulped the blue magic in two swallows.
Like Lord Hightower, she looked Talon in the eyes. "Fight to live," she told him. She ripped the arrow from his neck without warning, opening the wound in a sickening gash. His eyes rolled into his head. She pressed her hand to the hole and screamed. She needed his focus back.
It snapped to her and she held his stare as she drained herself. She pulled from her core. It was faster that way. She needed to heal him fast. His blood drenched her.
The two of them switched places in health. Talon sucked life back into him with each breath and Amelie grew weaker until she was laid out on the grass, fevered and twitching. It was Talon's turn to lean over her, squeezing her hand. Only he was helpless to aid her. Her eyesight blurred and sharpened. Darkness and sunshine. She faded in and out of consciousness.
It was during a bout of consciousness that she saw Talon ripped away from her side, knocked from his feet by a brute twice his size wielding a javelin. She rolled her head to the side, a soundless "No!" trying to cry out from within her. She was too weak to help him.
Talon, still weary from his near death struggled to stand. He was kicked in the face by the soldier's heavy boot. The thick javelin spear was raised and thrusted down.
Instead of coring into Talon's armor, the point was driven into Seth's back.
Seth, tired and weaponless from taking on every soldier who attempted to interfere with Amelie's healing.
Seth, who lost his sword in a grueling fight with a Grantham soldier, biting and punching, scraping out of the intimate fight with an opportune snap of the opponent's neck.
Seth, who dove in front of his fallen comrade with the only shield he had left, taking the javelin straight through his leather armor, the point sticking out of his chest through his heart.
A scene all too familiar to Amelie when she herself caught a sword through her back a year ago. But there was no soulguard here. There was nothing to stop the life seeping from his eyes. He had only a moment to glance at her as he fell to his knees before his eyes went blank with death. His body hit the ground in a lifeless thud.
Chapter 43
Amelie
The words came easily to Amelie now. They didn’t trail from her mouth like wisps of gold smoke but were screamed, a bloody and raw sound that pierced the air as she rode. Still, the forest blurred as she went faster. The magic words still held their purpose.
It took hours. She could feel the difference in weight than when she magicked alone. She had to focu
s harder on the spell and her body felt weary and cold.
Except for her arms. Amelie’s arms burned. To keep from dropping him, Amelie had tied Seth to the horse and pressed against him as she rode. Between squeezing her body to his and expelling magic, it was all she could do not to drop him in front of the palace gates. The moonstone had burned in her veins but she could scarcely feel it now. In its place was a cold unlike any she’d ever known.
Claudia and Simon rushed out to meet her, alerted of her incoming by standing soldiers. Amelie’s legs crumpled as she slid off the horse. Soldiers helped untie Seth and lower him gently to the ground. Claudia’s breath hitched as she surveyed his lifeless form and her eyes swung sadly to meet her sister’s. The look broke the elder princess.
She shivered violently from cold and tears as she clawed at Simon.
“Take me to him!” she demanded. “Take me to his realm. We have to go get him back.”
Simon wrapped his arms around her and took her nails in his shirt and skin. Amelie grew more frantic at his calm embrace.
“Simon, NOW!”
“He’s gone, Amelie,” Simon whispered.
“He’s not gone. We can go get him. I can’t do it alone. We need your gift. Please, Simon.”
“I can’t enter that realm. No one can. It is death to do so.”
“So be it!” Amelie roared. And when she saw Simon wouldn’t relent, pushed away from him with heavy sobs and fell down next to Seth.