by Frost Kay
“It’s not okay for me to lash out at you either.” Gav caught her fingers and squeezed them. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m going to have to say that a million more times, but I really am. I’m trying to do better.”
Mira nodded, compassion in her gaze. “I know you are, my lord.”
“Would you please use my name? It’s off-putting to hear you call me anything but Gav. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. Rank has no place between us.”
She pursed her lips and pulled away. He felt oddly bereft as she did so. Part of him wanted to snatch her hand back and kiss the soft skin of her wrist.
“I think we do better this way. We’ve been intertwined in each other’s lives for so long that it’s easy to be too blunt with each other at times. Keeping some distance seems to help.”
He understood what she was saying, but he didn’t like it one bit. What did distance even mean? Did she not want to see him again? Or did she want them to pretend they were cool acquaintances? Either way, he didn’t think he could follow through.
“If that’s what you wish,” he managed to say, the words tasting like ash upon his tongue.
“It is.” Mira clapped her hands together. “Now, that’s settled. I am of a mind to take a swim since it’s the first warm day. Would it be all right if I took Isa with me, to one of the coves?”
Gav nodded. He trusted the healer above all else to take care of Isa. “Be warned, she is part fish, I swear.”
Mira smiled, and his gaze settled on her soft pink lips, the bottom fuller than the top. A feverish memory flashed through his mind: his body pressed to Mira’s, his lips caressing her own. His fingers clutching her curves.
Wicked hell.
He forced away the memory as she collected the remaining linen and walked out of the room, her red skirts swishing around her trim ankles. Gav watched the door swing back and forth as a buzz settled beneath his skin. What was going on with him? Was it the lack of intimacy? Was it the fact that he knew her so well? Maybe he just liked fighting with her?
You know what this is.
Gav stood and yanked up his pants, his belt clinking as he buckled it. If he spent one more second in Mira’s presence, he might do something stupid—like kiss her.
He walked to the door, his limp less pronounced, and spared the infirmary one last look before exiting. Who was he kidding? Running away would solve nothing.
His cane dully thumped along the carpeted floor as he hastily fled the healer who had changed everything. Despite himself, Gavriel had opened his heart up to his childhood friend, and if he wasn’t careful, she’d destroy what was left of him.
Chapter 9
Lilja
“What are you thinking about, Lil?” Blair asked quietly.
Lilja should have known he was lurking about. The man had an uncanny knack for sniffing out her hiding spots. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled before patting the log in invitation. She turned back around to watch the refugee camp.
Blair settled in next to her, his big body taking up more space than she remembered. Lilja bit into her apple and peeked at him from the corner of her eye. His shoulders were even wider than they’d been when they first met.
“What?” he asked, not looking in her direction.
She swallowed her mouthful of apple and took another bite, chewing slowly.
Her old friend sighed, rolled his neck. The beads and bits of glass and bone in his long braids clinked softly with the movement. “I can practically hear your mind working. Might as well spit it out.”
Lilja licked her lips and examined his profile. Blair had wrinkles around his eyes. “You’re different.”
“That is the statement of the century.” He barked out a rough laugh. “And you look no different than you did twenty years ago. It’s as if no time has passed at all.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I may not look different on the outside, but inside I’ve changed more than I can explain. I’m not the same person I used to be.”
“None of us are.”
The two lapsed into silence as they watched the bustling camp from the shelter of the trees. Lilja finished her apple and tossed the core over her shoulder before wiping her hands on her trousers.
“You stopped taking the herbs,” she stated.
Blair nodded. “I knew we were getting close to dethroning the Warlord, and…” He turned slightly so he could meet her gaze. “And I didn’t want my wife growing older without me. It didn’t seem right.”
“You’re a good man.” He always thought of others. That had not changed. “How is your wife and your new babe?”
“Doing well. It’s been a relief to have them out of the palace.”
“I’m sure.” Lilja shook her head. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you all of these years.”
Blair swallowed hard and stared at his palms for a quiet minute. “My hands are stained from all the crimes I’ve committed over the years in the name of survival and justice. Keeping the girls safe is one of the few things I’ve done right.”
Lilja scooted closer to his side, looped her arm through his, and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’ve done more good than you will ever admit. I know you. You tend to only see yourself in a bad light.”
“And you only see me in a good light.”
She snorted. “That’s not true, and you know it. Shall I recite all the things that I loathe about you?”
Blair glanced at her and smiled. “No, thank you.”
“So where do you plan on going from here?” Lilja nodded toward the camp, eyeing Dor. The young woman was beating a dirty rug. “You know I have many ships. I have a vessel with your name on the deed. All you must do is claim it.”
Her friend’s grin melted away. “It’s a tempting offer, one that I might take you up on one day, but, for now, my place is here.”
“In the camp?” she asked, knowing full well it wasn’t.
His expression turned grave, and he exhaled heavily. “You know that’s not the case. What have you heard?”
Lilja held her hand out as fine rain misted the air. Refugees scurried for their drying laundry. “I know there’s talk of civil war.” Her gut clenched at the words. She didn’t want to think about war anymore. She’d been waging a personal war with Scythia for over twenty years. Lilja was bloody tired of it.
“It’s imminent.” Blair’s voice was flat. “The most powerful in the court supported the Warlord’s rule. They’re not happy with the changes Blaise has made since the treaty was signed. Rafe and I have managed to thwart ten assassination attempts already.”
“Ten?” Lilja mused, dropping her hand to her knee. “Not as many as I suspected.”
Blair clucked his tongue and shifted on the log. “Always the pessimist.”
“Blaise is a child of both worlds. She’s considered a traitor on both sides. It comes with the territory of ruling such a volatile kingdom. I still believe she will do well.”
“If she lives long enough.”
“What of the Nagalians?” Lilja asked. There weren’t many in the refugee camp near the Aermian border. “I thought there would be more here.”
“Many are older and don’t want to leave Scythia. This is all they’ve ever known. Plus, their health isn’t conducive for extensive travel. They fear what they don’t know. The horror stories of Nagali prevent many from wanting to make the journey. The people just want fair treatment and to live out their lives in peace.”
“As do we all.” Lilja pulled away from Blair and pushed her damp hair out of her face. “What of Dor?”
“She wants to return to the homelands. She’s determined to start again.” Blair ran a hand over his face, looking weary.
“You will go with her?” Lilja surmised, toeing a bit of moss with her boot.
“She doesn’t want me to. Dor says I’m needed here.”
She arched a brow and crossed her arms. The young woman wasn’t wrong. If Blaise wasn’t kept safe, the Scythian kingdom
would collapse into chaos and no one would be safe, and Nagali would be vulnerable once again.
“What will you do?” she asked gently.
“I want to say to hell with it all and go with my daughter, but I also can’t ignore what is happening here. Dor won’t be safe if Blaise isn’t. I need to stay here, but the thought of sending my daughter into the unknown without me is unbearable. I feel like I’m failing her somehow.”
“You should be proud. Dor isn’t thinking about just herself.” Lilja reached out and rested her hand on Blair’s arm. “You’ve raised a queen.”
“I can’t take that much credit. Her mother did most of the raising.”
She caught sight of Hayjen, walking through the camp, his arms full of blankets as a woman with a crying babe directed him toward one of the tents. He’d always enjoyed helping people in that way. While her husband was a warrior, he preferred a quiet steady way of doing good. He was ready to leave the politics and fighting behind.
“You are my dearest friend,” Lilja said softly. “Your family is my family. If you cannot go with Dor, then Hayjen and I will.”
Blair turned to face her and held her hands in his own, his dark eyes full of emotion. “There is no one better I could entrust her care into.” He searched her face. “Are you sure you want to offer this? It won’t be easy, and you haven’t spoken to Hayjen yet.”
Lilja laughed and squeezed his huge hands. “He’s ready for a new adventure. I will speak to him, but I have no doubt in my mind that he will say yes. We’re tired of war but ready for new horizons. We go where we’re needed. Aermia is settled, and I believe the king will crown both Sage and Tehl as the monarchs.”
A sly smile lifted Blair’s lips. “I’m sure the Methian queen has nothing to do with that decision either.”
She grinned. Marq and Osir were thick as thieves.
“What about Mer?” he asked, changing the subject.
Lilja pulled her hands from his and sighed. Her niece was a mess. She didn’t know how to pull Mer from the deep spiral of her life.
“I don’t know. My spies have reported nothing about my father’s decision. They keep postponing it, which makes me believe that everything isn’t as it should be in the Sirenidae kingdom. I worry that Mer’s punishment will be severe.”
“And what if she travels with you?” Blair asked, sympathy in his gaze. “She would avoid the whole ordeal if she doesn’t go back.”
“She won’t. Mer is a child of the sea, and she loves her grandfather. Plus, she is much too honorable. She’ll return for the judgement and stick to it, even if it breaks her.” Just the thought of it hurt Lilja. “She’s also not thinking rationally right now. Rage and heartbreak are driving her decisions.”
“Powerful emotions that can lead to ruin.”
“She’s fixated on Ream’s daughter, trying to find her.” Lilja rubbed at her temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Have you found any information on her?”
Blair scratched at his chin. “Nothing so far. There are so many people missing right now, it’s almost impossible to find anyone. I will keep looking, though. I’ve noticed a pattern of missing girls that I don’t like.”
“Missing girls?” Lilja said, lead settling in her stomach. Mer had suspected something sinister, but Lilja didn’t want to believe it.
“Young girls. They just vanish without a trace.”
“In Scythia?”
“From all over.”
“Just when you think it can’t get any worse,” she muttered. There was nothing worse than child abuse—nothing. Nothing. “Do you need me?”
Blair shook his head. “Not for this, but I may need some of your resources if I discover any more information.”
“Done.”
Her eyes widened when he pulled her into a hug. Lilja wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we are making the world better, Lil.”
She nodded, her gaze going distant. “One day at a time, right?”
“’Til the bitter end.”
Lilja grinned. “To the end and back.”
Chapter 10
Mira
Mira tipped her face up toward the sun, savoring how it cascaded down from the sky and warmed her skin. A slight breeze ruffled her hair, and she smiled as it whispered softly through the trees encircling the cove. When was the last time she’d felt this much at peace? It had been far too long.
She dropped her head and watched as Isa chased a scuttling crab across the white sand beach, her bare feet slapping against the wet sand, leaving footprints behind only for the surf to erase them just as quickly.
“Leave the poor thing alone,” Mira called.
“I can’t let him get away!” Isa screeched.
The crustation picked up speed and slipped underneath a porous rock, covered with barnacles. The little girl dropped to her knees and bent down to look for her quarry.
“He got away! I just finished his sandcastle!” the little imp cried, flopping back onto her bum, the water gently washing around her legs.
Mira stifled a giggle. “As nice as your castle is, I’m sure he wanted to return to his family.”
Isa glanced over her shoulder, her purple eyes narrowed in thought. “You think he wanted to be with his daddy?”
“Absolutely,” she replied. Her gaze moved toward the mouth of the cove, noting the sinking sun. “Isa, we have a bit of a ride to get back home. We should head out soon.”
“Awww,” the little girl whined. “Can’t we stay longer?”
“We’ve been here all afternoon, but we can go for one last dip before we leave.”
Isa clambered to her feet and held out her sand-encrusted hands. “I’m all dirty.”
Mira pushed to her feet and dusted off the back of her legs and butt. She winced as she got a good look at the top of her arm, noting the pinkened skin. She’d need an ointment for the sunburn. Pulling off her wrap, she laid it on the blanket and then took a few steps until her toes dug into the white sand. She shot a grin at Isa.
“Race you to the water?”
The little one darted forward, wet curls flying behind her as she crashed into the turquoise waves.
“That’s just cheating! I didn’t say go,” Mira yelled, bounding after her. “Now you’re in for it. I’m going to get you!”
Mira plowed through the waves, spraying saltwater everywhere. She caught Isa around the waist and tossed her into the air. The little girl screeched as Mira caught her, her slender arms and legs wrapping around the healer’s neck and waist.
“Throw me again,” Isa begged.
Mira hugged her, wading out into clear cove, the sea lapping at her waist. “Maybe next time. My arms are like noodles from throwing you so many times today.”
“Okay,” Isa sighed. “I just like swimming.”
“Don’t I know it. For a moment, I thought you were part fish,” Mira exclaimed. “I think you can swim better than I can.” The first time the little girl dove into the water and swam away, she’d almost had a heart attack.
Isa’s eyes rounded. “Papa says the same thing!”
“Then it must be true,” she replied seriously. Mira lifted a strand of deep red hair from Isa’s forehead and squinted. “I don’t see any scale, though.” She reached for the little girl’s right foot and tickled it. “No webbed toes, either.”
Isa jerked her foot out of Mira’s grasp with an infectious giggle. Her attention turned to the water and she pointed to the ocean floor, clinging to Mira with one hand. “A shell!”
Mira braced herself.
The little girl released Mira and used her legs and stomach as a springboard to dive into the water. She grimaced and wheezed slightly.
Isa’s little arms and legs worked as she dove to the bottom and snatched the shell from the sand before shooting to the surface. Mira held her hand out and Isa grabbed it. She towed the little girl back to her side.
“You have to give
me some warning, dearest. It hurts when you use my belly to jump. I can barely breathe.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Isa whispered.
Mira gave her a warm smile, to take the sting out of her reprimand. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. Just let me know next time so I can help.”
Isa nodded and once again wrapped herself around Mira and then held the shell out on her palm, saltwater clinging to her long lashes.
“A lion’s paw shell!”
Mira brushed her fingertip along the fluted, rusty-looking edge. “How pretty! I didn’t even see it.”
“That’s ‘cause I got good eyes for finding shells,” Isa exclaimed with pride.
“That you do.”
Mira jostled Isa until she sat on her hip. The little girl clutched the lion’s paw to her chest and laid her head against Mira’s shoulder. Her heart clenched, and she dropped a quick kiss on top of her head.
“I like it here,” Isa said softly.
“So do I,” Mira murmured.
Her father had been bringing her to this cove for years. It was a special place where a warm spring came up from the ground and met the sea. It was warm all year around. The tides brought in all sorts of treasures, but they couldn’t escape because of the natural stone barrier that curved in a half circle toward the sea, only to be broken by small gaps here and there.
“We’ve had a long day,” she said softly. “Let’s find another good shell for your auntie and then we’ll get dried off and head home.” She drifted toward an outcropping of rocks, the water clouding around her feet each time she took a step.
Isa nodded and reached up to play with a strand of Mira’s hair. “You have pretty hair. It looks like gold.”
“Thank you. I really like your hair, too. It’s so bright.”
“Mama had red hair.”
An innocent statement but it still felt like a punch to the gut. Emma had been gone for almost four years, but the pain of loss was still acute in moments like this. Mira swallowed hard, her eyes heating. It had been a long time since she cried for Emma. She had been the first person to welcome Mira after she’d been adopted. Six-year-old Emma had taken one look at her and declared they’d be best friends, and they had been. Emma had always made her feel braver and stronger than she actually was. Stars, Mira missed her.
