Enemy's Queen

by Frost Kay

  “She’s the only light in my world.” Maeve’s face snapped to the side. “Our time for speaking has ended. I hope her trust in you is warranted.” She popped up on her toes and kissed both his cheeks. “Take care of the girls and keep them safe.” Her hand curled around his arm, and she pushed him out of the dark and into the window alcove.

  Sam spun and caught a glimpse of her face before the door closed silently, only showing a wall of stone where the door once was. He breathed heavily, panic tugging at his gut. It was a gamble trusting her, but ignoring her words was a bigger gamble.

  He sucked in a huge breath. No matter what, the peace talks could only end one way. In war. The delegation would honestly risk little to go along with her plan. It was Sage who risked everything.

  They had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

  He entered the room and caught Hayjen’s eye. “I would love some music.”

  Lilja grabbed the fiddle and handed it to her husband, her gaze never leaving Sam. Rafe, Gav, Zachael, and Tehl all focused on him as Hayjen began to play.

  “We have our sign,” he whispered.

  Tehl shot to his feet. “What?”

  Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you the specifics, but I have a plan set in motion. I’ll need everyone’s cooperation. You each have a role to play.”

  “What can you tell us?” Rafe asked.

  “I’ll speak with each of you personally, and Lilja?”

  Her serious eyes met his. “Yes?”

  “I’ll need your help.”

  She nodded.

  Tehl strode over to him, his face displaying heavy fatigue, worry having created shadows underneath his eyes.

  “What do I need to do?” Tehl asked.

  “Ruin the peace talks.”

  A dangerous smile crept across his brother’s face, making him resemble a mercenary more than a prince. “With pleasure.”

  Sam released a breath. “So, we begin.”

  Thirty-Three

  Sage

  It was another day of speeches and promises she knew would never come to fruition. It was a pretty little play. She’d been discreetly yawning behind her hand when Jeren snarled something at Blair.

  “We will never accept your tampering in Aermia. Your monstrosities end here,” the Aermian counselor hissed.

  She still felt the shock of his words in the pit of her stomach. How had they gone from trade to this? The room seemed to drop in temperature as the warlord leaned forward in his chair, the lines of his body rigid.

  “I suggest you leash your delegate before he says something he’ll regret,” the warlord growled.

  The crown price eyed the warlord and straightened. “I apologize for his utter lack of tact, but not for his intent. I understand that your people’s crimes are in the past and should stay there. But my people’s fear and hate for the way you use science has not. If we are to obtain peace, then we need assurances that all your tampering has ceased as well.”

  The warlord cocked his head. “Haven’t I already done so?”

  “So you say.”

  “Are you implying I lied?” the warlord asked casually.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood. She knew that tone intimately. It spoke of danger and pain.

  “No, I am not,” Tehl said. “But we’re concerned not about your past deeds, but rather your draughts used for healing. They go beyond what is natural.”

  The warlord’s brows arched. “You don’t want me to heal my people?”

  “In order to forge our peace alliance, we require all altering to cease. We want no part of your tampering in Aermia.”

  “You presume to command me?”

  “No.” Tehl shook his head. “But from leader to leader, you understand what it means to protect your people.” His gaze hardened. “And I will protect my people. I will not allow Scythian draughts in Aermia.”

  “Even if we could heal the disease that plagues your people?” the warlord asked tightly.

  “Even so. We will not risk the danger and corruption. This is non-negotiable.”

  The air seemed to leave the room as the warlord stood. He flung his arm out in her direction.

  “Does Sage look corrupted? She’s alive because of those draughts. I’d venture to say she’s even healthier now than when she was under your roof.”

  Sage inwardly winced at the warlord’s dig and held her breath when Tehl stood. He turned and pinned her with his sapphire gaze. She blushed as he leisurely scanned her before turning to the warlord.

  “You’re right. She looks healthy, but she also doesn’t look like my wife.” He flicked a disgusted look in her direction. “She dresses and speaks like a Scythian, not an Aermian.” His teeth clenched together. “And apparently, she sleeps in a Scythian bed, too,” he growled.

  The floor seemed to fall out from below her, and the room swayed. She begged him with her gaze to look at her, to let her explain, but all her words caught in her throat. Their lives hinged on her silence. She swallowed down her explanations and focused on the two men staring each other down. One smug, the other disgusted.

  The crown prince lifted his chin and stared the warlord in the eye. “Will you comply for peace?” The question hung in the air.

  The warlord stared at her with an unholy glee in his eyes just before turning to the crown prince and replying, “I will not.”

  “Then we are at an impasse,” Tehl said.

  “No, we are at the end,” the warlord said.

  Both men watched each other for a tense second before the crown prince dipped his chin. “So be it. Let the record show that Aermia and Scythia did not come to a peace agreement. The laws of our forefathers will still be upheld.” He glanced at Sage. “You have no place among my household. Traitors usually receive death, but since you are my wife, I will grant you mercy. You shall be exiled.”

  Her heart cracked into a million pieces, but her mask was as flawless as ever when Tehl turned and strode from the room. Heat built at the back of her eyes as the delegation left, refusing to even look in her direction.

  She blinked constantly, the stars wavering around her.

  Six hours.

  It had been six hours since the last of the peace talks began.

  It had been three hours since the Aermian delegation had named her a traitor.

  It had been one hour since they closed negotiations and abandoned her.

  She stared into the dark, the wind whipping her clothing around her and chilling her tears. A muffled sob slipped out when she remembered Tehl naming her an adulteress, nothing but condemnation and disgust on his face.

  Sage lifted her robe and scrubbed the tears from her face, all the while trying to catch a glimpse of the fires burning in the distance. Before, they shone brightly, beacons of hope, but now they wavered like mirages, false promises. Even now, thinking over the day, she couldn’t believe that Tehl thought her a traitor. He was smarter than that. Despite the evidence, he knew her, knew she would never betray him.

  But you have already, haven’t you?

  Sage swallowed down the pain and focused on what she knew to be true. Her name was Sage Blackwell. She was married to the crown prince who was brave, honorable, and intelligent. She had four brothers, and that included two sworn brothers. Sam, the cunning spymaster, and Gav, the warrior with a heart of gold. Neither one of those men would hurt her.

  Sage welcomed the cold air as it helped to clear her thoughts. Sam had tried to rescue her six days ago. He knew where to find her. Her brows furrowed, and she pulled her robe closer to her body. He already knew she was in the warlord’s chamber. Not only that, but she’d sent Sam a message. So, why did Tehl name her an adulteress and traitor today? It didn’t make any sense.

  “Wild one, are you going to stand out there all night? I can’t possibly keep you healthy if you keep putting yourself at risk.”

  Rubbing at her arms, she spun to face him, then meandered into the room ever so slowly. The warlord lounged in a chair by th
e fire, eyeing her with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

  “Have you been crying over those fools?” he asked softly.

  She forced her hands to stay by her side instead of scrubbing at her face like she longed to. “I’m a woman. We’re emotional creatures,” she said with a half-smile.

  He set his goblet down and stalked in her direction before clasping her face in his hands. She tilted her head back to meet his black gaze.

  “If I didn’t have any morals, I would have cut them all down where they stood for what they did to you,” he whispered. “I have half a mind to hunt them down.”

  Fear shot through her at his words. “But you won’t?”

  He scanned her face. “No, I won’t, but not only for you. When Aermia bows before me, it will be because they were weak and they failed.”

  His words incited a shiver. She pulled her robe tighter and gently pulled from his grasp. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”

  “Of course, consort.”

  She shuffled to the bed and turned her back to him, afraid he could see all of her thoughts and feelings swirling in her mind. He released a sigh and strode around the bed to tug the draperies across the window. Her skin prickled when his belt jingled and his clothes rustled. Her eyes slammed closed as his weight sunk into the bed, and a heavy arm curled around her.

  “Sleep, wild one. Tomorrow will have its own worries.”

  “Wise,” she whispered, very aware of how his hand slipped into her robe and pressed against her bare stomach. “It must be because of how old you are.”

  The warlord stilled and then chuckled, shaking her body. “Sage, you never stop surprising me. Never change.”

  “Change is inevitable.”

  His laughter died off, and a light kiss caressed the back of her neck. “True. You and I will change the world.”

  She stayed silent and forced her body to relax. He was right, each day had its own worries. She had to focus on one thing at a time. Now wasn’t the time to decipher Tehl’s actions; now was the time to escape.

  Sage jerked away, her heart pounding. She blinked furiously and sat up, the warlord’s arm slipping into her lap. She scanned the room, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. She frowned and glanced at the warlord. He was asleep.

  It must have been a dream.

  She released a heavy sigh and stared at his handsome face. Awake, he was devastatingly handsome, but asleep, his face was a mask of serenity and peace, angelic. She traced one of his eyebrows and brushed his dark hair from his cheek. In that moment, she could almost forget his atrocities. The thought sickened her. Did a pretty face sway her that much?

  “Sage.”

  She jerked and rolled out of the bed, glaring at the source of the voice.

  “Maeve.” Sage glanced at the warlord and back to the Scythian woman. “Is it time?”

  Maeve slipped all the way through the curtains and shook her head. “It’s time. No questions.”

  Her eyes rounded as she glanced at the warlord.

  “Now, Sage. He won’t wake for some time. The drug will keep him down.”

  She swallowed hard and climbed onto the bed. The part of herself that she hated most mourned leaving him. She pressed a kiss to his temple and placed her forehead against his. “I know there’s a shred of good inside you, I’ve seen it, but I cannot stay here with you, hoping I can coax it out. You’re too broken, and you’ll break me. I’m sorry.”

  Sage crept from the bed and shivered as she moved through the curtains and into the cold night air. Maeve smiled sadly and glanced toward the room. “Wait here. I need to secure him.”

  The Scythian woman slipped away, silent as the night. Meanwhile, she wrapped her arms around herself and waited for Maeve to return. It seemed like an eternity before the woman emerged, just as silently as she left.

  They both moved to the balcony and Maeve lifted a rope. “I need you to secure this under your armpits”

  Sage nodded and took the rope from her, securing it around her body with numb fingers. Maeve tugged on it and then tied it around her waist.

  “I’m going to lower you down first and then follow. Blaise has secured our weight. Make sure to hold on, or the rope will bite in painfully. This is the most tedious part of our plan.”

  Sage nodded and placed her hands on the railing. She’d never been afraid of heights, but putting her trust in another to keep from falling hundreds of feet was no simple thing.

  “Breathe in and out. You can do this, Sage. You’re strong,” the Scythian woman whispered.

  She could do this. She had to do this.

  Carefully, she slipped one leg over the railing, and then the other, spinning so she was facing the railing, her bare toes clenching the stone ledge.

  “Slide down to your knee and edge your body off.”

  Gritting her teeth, she did as she was told. Her legs dangled below, and her fingers bit into the railing.

  “Let go of the railing and grasp the rope.”

  Sage counted to three and released the railing. For a breathless moment, it felt like she was falling. Then the rope bit into her underarms. She snatched the rope and pulled upward. The pain receded, but her arms began to shake as she swung below the balcony. She glanced up to catch Maeve slipping over the edge, lowering them. Sage’s stomach lurched as she dropped a foot and then another.

  It shouldn’t have surprised her that Maeve held their weight so easily, but it was still amazing to see the petite woman using just her arms to lower them. It was faster than she liked, but even that felt too slow. Every second they were in the air, she felt like the warlord would lean over the railing and haul them back up.

  They passed seven levels when Sage caught sight of Blaise. The Scythian woman was holding the other side of the rope. The curious side of Sage’s mind was intrigued by the pulley system that they’d rigged, but all of that was forgotten when Blaise locked eyes with her and whispered, “You need to swing toward me. I can’t reach you.”

  Sage nodded and steeled her nerves. She couldn’t think about it, she had to just do it, so she began to swing. Her stomach twisted as the rope creaked and groaned, but it held. When Blaise wrapped her arms around Sage’s legs, she offered a little prayer of thanks. She then clambered down to the balcony, her legs shaking, and tugged at the rope tied around her.

  A flask entered her vision. “I told Mum she was crazy. I’ve never seen anyone attempt that.”

  Sage grabbed it and took a large swig. The spirits burned away some of the jitters and the cold. She wiped the back of her mouth and handed it back. “Thank you for not dropping me.”

  A grunt.

  Toes landed on the railing above her head and then Maeve dropped into view, landing without a sound. “Pull the rope, Daughter.” She turned and offered Sage a hand up. “We need to get you changed.”

  Sage shivered and followed her into a much smaller room. Leather trousers, boots, a linen shirt, and a fur vest were laid out on a trunk.

  “I think these will fit you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered and stripped off her skimpy nightgown and robe. She’d lost most her sense of modesty. All she wanted was to feel real clothes against her skin.

  “One moment,” Maeve murmured. She poured some sort of oil in her hands. “We need to oil your entire body. It will change your scent.”

  “Okay.”

  Heat burned her cheeks as Maeve left no inch of skin untouched. Maeve grinned at her reaction for only a moment before sobering. “This is not a time to be shy. This is life or death. You’ve never faced a foe such as he.”

  Again, her stomach twisted. She knew.

  Once Maeve finished, Sage yanked on the trousers, socks and boots, and then laced her half-corset. She threw on her shirt and quickly buttoned up her vest. Maeve handed her a ring. Sage eyed it. “What’s that?”

  Maeve flipped back the top of the ring revealing a sharp needle. “This holds a poison that will paralyze a Scythian.” She flipped the top of
the ring closed and held it out to Sage. “This is a last resort.”

  She pulled the ring from Maeve’s palm and slipped it on the middle finger of her right hand. “What next?” she whispered, feeling a little more like her old self.

  “We disguise you. Come here.”

  She turned and sat on the trunk as Maeve instructed her to do. The Scythian woman quickly did her hair in a Scythian braid.

  “If anyone possibly sees you, you’ll look Scythian. They won’t look twice.” Maeve stood and glanced at the silent Blaise. “Are you ready, Daughter?”

  “Yes, Mum. I removed any trace of our footprints.”

  “Thank you.” Maeve moved to the wall and pressed on a red mosaic tile piece. A door swung inward soundlessly. “Time to go.”

  Sage stood, but paused. Both Scythian women glanced at her with raised brows. “Where’s Jasmine?”

  “Safe,” Maeve answered. “She’s waiting for us.”

  “You swear?” Sage scrutinized the woman.

  “I do. I would not leave that poor girl to the warlord’s wrath.”

  Sage believed her and so moved into the dark hidden passage. She turned and watched with rising dread as Blaise wiped off everything they touched and threw her clothing into the fire. Blaise scanned the room once more and moved into the hallway, closing the door.

  Darkness surrounded them and blinded Sage.

  “From this moment onward, you mustn’t say a word until I give you permission. Do you understand?” Maeve said, her tone grave.

  “Yes, but I can’t see.”

  “Hold on to my belt until your eyes adjust.”

  Each step, each breath was torturous. They felt too loud. Panic swirled in her belly at being in the dark. It reminded her too much of how she ended up here. She stifled a hysterical laugh. Well, the warlord had done something for her. Her eyes were still used to the dark, so it was easier to see at night than it used to be.

  They took endless twists and turns, descending staircase after staircase. Her ears popped, and she shook her head to dislodge the fuzzy feeling it created. Her mouth dropped open as the hallway opened up into a cavern. Sage scanned the area once and followed Maeve around its rocky edge.