by Frost Kay
“I love rain.”
That was personal. Why was he offering an olive branch? He hadn’t done anything wrong.
Sage blinked and spun, the sheet flaring around her legs. Tehl still stared at the wall, but there was less tension in his body. “What do you love about it?”
He leaned back, placing his palms on the bed, and squinted at the ceiling. “It’s clean. It washes away filth and rubbish, leaving behind beauty.”
“And here I thought you liked it because it was dark and glum, like your personality.” Her eyes widened as she realized what had popped out of her mouth. In that moment, she wished she could snatch her words from the air and cram them back into her mouth. He was making conversation, and she was acting like a cornered viper.
Tehl’s body began to shake and a roar of laughter escaped him. Her jaw dropped. When had she heard such laughter like that? It was the sound of freedom and joy.
She ached for that joy, that freedom, but she’d settle for being near someone capable of such emotion.
He wiped at his eyes and shook his messy, inky hair, glancing in her direction before pinning his gaze on the far wall, his back to her again.
She made him uncomfortable. Sage cinched the sheet tighter along her body, and her toes dug into the rug beneath her feet. “I’m covered, and I’m sorry.”
Slowly, he turned, his brows furrowing. “Why are you sorry?”
“I was rude.” She waved a hand, heat filling her cheeks.
His confusion melted into a heart-stopping grin as he flashed two dimples that had her heart in her throat. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve always enjoyed your feistiness. You seem more like yourself when you are…”
“Ornery?” she quipped with an arched brow.
“Fiery. You’ve always been full of life.”
She swallowed. As opposed to the darkness that slowly ate at her now. “I see.”
His hands curled into fists, and his smile disappeared as he studied her face. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Yes. I prefer it.” She was so tired of deception. Lies.
“As do I.” He inhaled deeply and met her gaze squarely. “I’m awkward. I’ll always be awkward, but I’ll always tell you the truth. I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know how to help or be what you need.”
There was no help for her. But how could she explain that to him?
“But I’ll do my best, and, for that, I need you to tell me what you need, what’s on your mind.”
She clutched the sheet tighter. Could he handle her monsters? It was a burden she didn’t want to level onto anyone.
“Can you handle the truth?” Because she couldn’t. She wanted to hide from it. From the things she’d done.
“Sometimes, the truth is ugly, and it hurts, but we have to deal with it.”
“We?” she whispered, hardly daring to hope.
Tehl stood and moved around the bed, halting a handbreadth away. “You and I. It will always be you and I against the world. I meant my vows.”
Her vows. She’d already broken them in a way that couldn’t be fixed.
“I’ve done terrible things,” she whispered. The compromises. Ezra. The warlord.
“Mistakes are part of being imperfect. No one is perfect, Sage, no one. If you expect that from yourself or anyone else, you’re inviting disappointment and heartache.” He held out his hand to her, palm up. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, today, tomorrow, or next week, but you can’t hide from what’s going on, and you can’t hide it from me.”
“You can’t handle the darkness,” she whispered, staring at his hand. “It’s too great.” Painful.
“Nothing is too great when you work together with those that love you.”
Her gaze snapped to his face. “I don’t deserve it.”
“No one really deserves love, but that’s what makes it so special. I need you to fight. Fight for yourself, your family, your friends, our kingdom, us, for the children we might have in the future. I need you to fight with everything you have to not let him win.” Tehl seemed to swell in size as he squared his shoulders. “I will fight for all of these things with or without you, but it will be easier to have you by my side. You are a champion, a warrior.” He looked her straight in the eye. “You are not the victim. You’re a survivor.”
His words seemed to wrap themselves around her and sink into her skin. She wasn’t a victim.
Sage was a survivor.
Her wounds were brutal, ugly, and dark, but she’d survived them.
But she wasn’t the only one to survive such horrors. Her mind flashed to all the pregnant women at the feast table. How many women had been used? Were still being used?
Sage hugged herself, shaking as she fought her way back from the image in her mind. She had to fight for them. Live for them. Survive for them.
If she didn’t, who would?
Sixteen
Sage
Fighting was easier said than done.
Three days had passed quicker than she expected. Breakfast had been quiet affairs before Tehl disappeared for the day. He checked on her several times during the day and left her with news on the world outside their room. Each time he left, she longed to go with him, but even she knew her body lacked the strength that was needed.
Against Mira’s wishes, she’d begun to train in her room. She couldn’t stay here forever, and there wasn’t time to waste. The times were too dangerous.
Sage scowled at her trembling limbs and sank to the floor. The months in Scythia hadn’t done her any favors. Her body may have been healed from the drugs they’d given her, but she’d lost so much of her strength.
Sage cursed and plucked her dagger from the floor. She held her breath and threw the dagger. It sunk into the bedpost with a dull thud. A small smile tipped up her mouth. At least she hadn’t lost her aim. There was her silver lining.
“Stop fouling up the furniture.” Her mum glared at her from over the top of her embroidery. “You’d have thought I raised you in a barn.”
The urge to stick her tongue out at her mum tugged at her, but she managed to curb it. Barely. “Sorry, Mum,” she wheezed, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from her face.
Her mum arched a delicate brow. “If you were sorry, you’d stop doing it.”
It was only the third time today. The bed would survive. Her restlessness, not so much. It eased some of her panic to have a dagger back in her hand, to control something. It was satisfying to see it hit her mark each time.
She lay on her back, sinking into the plush rug. Even though she was exhausted, it had been great to work her muscles. There was comfort in routine.
“You should get back into bed. You’ve overdone it today.”
Sage waved a hand at her. “I’ve done nothing today.” It was the truth, but her body complained anyway.
“You’ve visited Jasmine, spoken to Blaise, and trained against my wishes.”
In the scheme of things, it wasn’t much. “I can’t stand staying still. My mind never stops.” Every time she stopped, unwanted memories plagued her. She shook her head. It was better to wear herself into the ground.
“I know, love.”
“I need to fill the…” She paused. “The void.”
“I understand that, but you shouldn’t push yourself too hard. It’s only been a few weeks.”
Almost three weeks. It felt like a lifetime and a blink of an eye at the same time.
Time was distorted. The world sped by while she struggled after it. But each moment she let slip by was a moment lost to the warlord.
She shivered, the sweat cooling on her skin. She wasn’t a betting woman, but she’d bet her sword the warlord would strike soon. He’d lost the element of surprise. That wasn’t something he’d take rolling over.
“Sage?”
She blinked and craned her neck to see her mum. “Yes?”
A deep crease wrinkled her mum’s forehead as she gazed at Sage. “Where did you go, love? I called
your name three times.”
“I didn’t hear you.” Too lost in her worries.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Sage gritted her teeth and rolled her head to the right, staring up at the ceiling. “To a place where there’s nothing but rage, pain, and darkness.”
Her mum laid her embroidery on the floor and then lay beside Sage, her dear face pillowed on her crossed arms. “You’re not alone.”
“So people keep saying.” It was one thing to hear it and another to believe it.
“And you don’t believe that?”
“Mum.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to deal with all of this.”
Her mum placed a hand over hers. “Then tell me.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
To say the words out loud would give them more power to hurt. The warlord had done enough damage. Sage wouldn’t let him hurt anyone else.
“Love, you need to let it out.”
Probably. Sage met her mum’s hazel eyes. “You kept Lilja and Hayjen from me to protect me. I can’t speak of these things. It’s to protect you.”
Her mum cupped her cheek. “It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around.”
If only they understood that danger that was coming for them. Blaise and Lilja were probably the only two who truly understood the evil that would descend on their world.
Guilt pinched her.
She’d treated Lilja cruelly the last time she’d seen her. True to their word, Lilja and Hayjen hadn’t come back. Sage wanted to reach out, but not today. Today, she’d train and plot.
“It’s like you’re miles away,” her mum murmured, a hitch in her voice. “How do I help you?”
“Mum.” She swallowed. “You can’t help me or save me.”
She smiled sadly as tears filled her mum’s eyes. Sage reached for her hands and squeezed.
“It’s okay, though. I’ll be okay. The best you can do is support me. I need your support. I need someone to believe in me.” Even though she didn’t believe in herself.
“I’ve always believed in you, and I always will.”
“I know. That’s what I need the most. The days ahead will be brutal, Mum. The only way we’ll survive it is if we stick together as equals. You will always be my mum, and I will always be your daughter, but I need you to support me as a leader of Aermia. I need you to push me when I falter, because it will happen.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I need you to contact Lilja.”
Gwen wiped her eyes and nodded. “I can do that.”
“It isn’t to make up,” Sage warned. “I need her.” Lilja would be a major key in the upcoming war.
“What do you plan on doing with your aunt once you have her?”
“Persuade her to do her duty.”
“You want to use her?” Her mum’s voice held disapproval.
“No, not use her, utilize her.” Sage wouldn’t manipulate the Sirenidae. Lilja would choose to help. She’d understand what was at stake.
“She’s a person, not a tool.”
“That may be the case, but she’s necessary.” Aermia needed the Sirenidae to defeat Scythia.
“Don’t turn into someone you’re not.”
Sage smiled at her mum. “That’s what I have you for.”
Her mum didn’t crack. “Stay true to who you are.”
“I don’t know who I am.” That was probably the most truthful statement she’d uttered in days.
Sage shied away from her mum’s probing gaze and slowly sat up, her head pounding as the room swirled around her for a brief moment. “I need a bath,” she muttered as her stench hit her.
Her mum stayed quiet before a ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you stink.” She pushed to her knees and pulled Sage into a hug. “Don’t think I don’t see your distractions for what they are. When you want to speak, I will be here. Don’t hold it in too long. It only makes it worse.” Gwen kissed her cheek and stood, shaking her simple skirts out. “I’ll start on that bath.”
Sage closed her eyes and lay back down on the floor, listening to her mum hum a song as she started the bath. Water splashed, and the scent of cinnamon and mint wafted from the bathing room.
Footsteps padded back into the room along with the quiet swishing of skirts. “The bath will be ready for you in a few minutes. Would you like me to help?”
“No!” Sage swallowed and gentled her voice. “No, I’m all right. I can do it myself.” The last thing she wanted to do was expose her body to her mum. The changes still shocked her sometimes. Her body seemed like a foreign entity.
“I’ll be in my room just across the hall if you need me.”
Translation: if she heard anything abnormal, she’d storm into the room.
“Thank you, Mum.”
“Welcome, love.”
The tension in her shoulders leaked away as the door closed behind her mum, leaving her alone. Since the king found her a couple days ago, it seemed like everyone watched her more closely. Maybe it was all in her mind.
Her gaze traveled to the balcony doors, and the shame sickened her, causing her hands to clench in the carpets.
What in the blazes had she been thinking? Clearly, she hadn’t been using her mental faculties at all. What she’d almost done was unforgivable. She truly hadn’t wanted to die; she just wanted to be free from the pain.
Sage rubbed at her chest where the constant pain and rage threatened to choke her. This was her new reality, and she needed to deal with it. If she didn’t, it would consume what was left of her, and there were people depending on her.
Forcing herself from the floor, she staggered to her feet. If she let herself dwell on it, she’d only descend deeper into the darkness.
Sage unbuttoned her vest and moved into the bathing room. Steam caused her clothing to once again stick to her skin as heat and herbs enveloped her.
She peeled off her leather vest and glanced up at the huge tub. The vest fell to the floor from her numb fingers as a memory assaulted her, a hexagonal pool imposing itself over her reality.
“That’s it. Just relax,” he crooned. “I’ll take care of you.”
A warm, sudsy cloth started on her hand and carefully moved up her arm. Sage kept her eyes closed, blocked out everything happening to her, and focused only on the warm water and the comfort it gave her. She checked in when he washed her stomach and the tops of her thighs, but his hands never strayed to her important bits.
His hands moved to her head, and she hummed, soothed by the soft touch of his hands through her hair. His hands stilled.
“You like that?”
“Mmmhmm… My mum used to wash my hair and brush it for me. I love it,” she said, not knowing why she gave a stranger that information.
“I’ll remember that,” he rumbled and began washing her hair again.
A few times, she hissed as he untangled her matted locks, but, for the most part, it was the best thing that had happened to her in a very long time. It was the last good memory she’d have before she died. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he hummed.
“Sage?”
She gasped and stumbled away from the huge tub. Her back met the vanity behind her, rattling the glass bottles on top.
Tehl stood in the doorway, his shoulders almost touching either side. “Are you all right?”
Far from it. His concern made everything worse. Genuine worry pulled his brows together into a frown when he shouldn’t be concerned but outraged by her thoughts. She glanced back at the tub, her sins weighing heavily on her. The longer she stared at the bath, the more certain she became that she wouldn’t get in it.
“I’m fine,” she rasped.
“Are you getting in the bath?” he asked.
“No,” she shook her head, her braid whipping side to side. A quick scrub from the water basin was all she needed.
He stepped into the bathing room and stoo
d next to her, staring at the bath. “It seems like you were going to take a bath.” Tehl gestured to the oils next to the pool of water and sniffed heavily. “Cinnamon certainly isn’t my scent.”
She hunched over as another memory slammed into her.
“Cinnamon,” he growled. “How is it you haven’t bathed in days and yet you still smell like cinnamon?”
A hand brushed over her head as she panted and forced herself to look away from the smooth stone floor beneath her feet to Tehl.
“You’re not there.” Tehl bracketed her face with his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You’re here with me.”
Tears of frustration spilled down her cheeks. “He’s everywhere.” Escape was nowhere to be found and utterly elusive.
“There’s no one here but you and I.” His gaze darted to the bath. “Would you like help?”
Horror seized her. After the debacle three days ago, she didn’t want him anywhere near her when he could glimpse her skin. “No!”
He studied her face and brushed his thumbs along her cheekbones. “You need a bath.”
“Are you saying I stink?” she quipped as her stomach rolled.
He flashed his teeth. “I didn’t say that.”
It was odd to be joking with him while on the verge of a mental breakdown.
“Can you bathe yourself?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to lie and say she could. But they both knew she wouldn’t get in the bath. Chances were that she’d run a wet rag over her body as quick as possible and then avoid this room like the plague.
Tehl must have read her face, for he squared his shoulders and pulled her into a hug. She shuddered and reluctantly wrapped her arms around his muscular form.
“It just so happens that I need a bath, too, and it’s always hard to scrub my own back. Maybe we could help each other out.”
“What?” she gasped as he swung her up into his arms. “No, Tehl.” She couldn’t do this.
“Hush,” he soothed. “Nothing untoward. I want nothing from you.”
He stepped into the tub and plopped down, sloshing water over the edge. Her eyes flew to his face as warm water soaked through her clothing, and panic clawed at her throat.