I push off the wall and step into him, pressing my lips to the skin at the base of his neck, letting my hands travel up his back, holding him against me. I can feel his heart beat against mine, quick and fluttering like a trapped bird, but as I hold him, as my fingers trace the lines and my breath warms his neck, his tension eases. Calms. Settles. His head dips and he presses kisses to my temple, to my cheek, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“As I said,” he whispers, his voice a low rasp, “you know all the ways to make me yield.”
This is different from the wildfire attraction of a moment ago. More powerful. More precious. This is trust. Faith. Hope.
Love.
He kisses the shell of my ear, adding a little nip with his teeth before withdrawing. He reaches up to pull the shirt over his head, and all the breath leaves my lungs in a rush. The firelight paints his skin with gold and shadow, and I’m flushed and dizzy with desire and fear igniting in my belly. Suddenly I’m shy, my hands fluttering against my abdomen as he bends to yank the ties on his boots. But he must notice, because he pauses for the briefest moment, peering up at me.
“Should I re-dress?” he says, and there’s no censure in his voice, no judgment.
“No. No!” I shake my head quickly. I have to make my voice work. “Grey—Grey, you should know—”
I can’t say it. Flames are eating up my ability to think. He’s too lovely, too fierce, too male, too … oh, too much.
He kicks his boots free. Without warning, he steps forward and scoops me into his arms. I yip and grab hold of his neck, but it puts our faces very close. My free hand is against his bare chest, and I have to force my eyes to meet his.
“I should know what?” he says, and his voice is low and gentle, just for me.
“I’ve never,” I whisper.
“Ah.” He carries me to the bed, and now it’s my heart’s turn to want to escape its cage. But he eases me onto the coverlet, then climbs up to lie beside me. Mere inches of space exist between us, and I want to close every inch.
Then he says, “I haven’t either.”
It’s so unexpected that I nearly fall off the bed. “But—you were a guardsman! How is that possible?”
He shrugs a bit. “I was seventeen when I was sworn to the Royal Guard, and we forswear family, so courtship was not allowed. Some of the others would visit the pleasure houses in the cities, but that wasn’t for me.” He traces a finger along the line of my robes, along my shoulder, across my neck, and then down the front of my chest.
I shiver and my breath catches, but he leans in to press another kiss to my lips. “You’ll have to forgive my inexperience.”
“You’ll have to forgive mine—” I begin, but his gentle hand slips under my robe, and my back arches into his touch, and I find I can’t think at all.
“I’ve heard many stories,” he says against my cheek, his voice teasing as he drags his teeth along my jaw. “You read so very many books.” His thumb strokes against a sensitive bit of skin, and I gasp again.
He draws back enough to find my eyes, and he smiles. “Surely, we can figure it out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GREY
I’m rarely asleep long enough to be woken by the sun, but the room is dim with early morning light when my eyes finally open. The fire has fallen to embers, and I can taste a chill in the air, but Lia Mara’s blankets are enough to keep me warm, especially with the queen herself curled up beside me.
She hasn’t woken yet, but her forehead is pressed to my shoulder, her red hair spilling into the space between us, shining in the pale sunlight. Her knees are drawn up to press against my outer thigh. I am torn between wanting to wake her so I have the pleasure of seeing her eyes, and wanting to let her sleep so I can continue to watch the sunlight drift along the bare curve of her shoulder. I am torn between wanting to stay by her side until the end of time, and wanting to find every single person who would dare wish her harm so I can put a blade through them myself. I have felt protective of her for ages, of all my friends, but this … this is different suddenly. Not an obligation. An imperative. A fierce urgency.
I am supposed to be meeting with the army officers and Lia Mara’s generals this morning, likely right this very moment, but I find I cannot leave her side.
Lia Mara inhales deeply, and then her lips press to my arm before her eyes even open. I reach over to stroke the hair back from her face, and her eyes open the tiniest bit.
“I was worried,” she says softly, “that I would wake and you’d be gone.”
“Still here.” I trace a finger over her mouth, and she touches a kiss to my fingertips. “Though I am to meet with your generals about the reports from Emberfall—”
“They can wait a bit longer.” She shifts closer until her legs tangle with mine, and I forget everything but the feel of her skin and the taste of her mouth.
Minutes or hours or decades later, sunlight floods the room. I’m buckling my bracers into place while Lia Mara is blushing at me from under her blankets.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that,” I say, “I will be forced to spend the day here.”
“Do you mean that to be a warning? Because it sounds like a promise.”
That makes me smile, and I lean down to kiss her. “Don’t tempt me, you lovely girl.” She attempts to hook her fingers in the neckline of my shirt, but I grin and bat her hand away. “Later.”
She flops back against her pillows and feigns a pout. “I suppose I do need to be a queen, at least for a short while.”
“I will ask Iisak to stay with you when I cannot,” I say, and she sobers. Her mock pout turns into a true frown.
“I really do wish we could stay here,” she says softly.
I pick up my sword belt and loop it around my waist. “I once heard Rhen’s father—my father, I suppose—say that if you cannot make your people love you, you should make them fear you.” I pause. “Respect is rarely born out of anything else.”
“My sister said the same thing.” She studies me as I buckle my weapons into place. “I don’t want people to fear me, Grey.” Her voice is very soft. “Do you think that makes me a weak queen?”
“No.” I step over to the bed and press a hand to her cheek. “You can be a strong queen without being your mother, Lia Mara.”
The instant I say the words, I realize I don’t know if they’re true. The soldiers on her training fields would disagree with me. In Emberfall, King Broderick was certainly never known for being kind. And while Rhen is devoted to his people, he’s not opposed to being brutal when he sees the need for it. The scars on my back—on Tycho’s back—are proof enough of that.
Maybe Lia Mara can read the hesitation in my eyes, because she presses her hand over mine. “Nolla Verin thinks I am too lax.”
“Your sister is vicious because your mother expected her to be.” I pause. “She expected the throne, and she knows no other way to rule.”
She stares at me. “You … don’t trust her,” she says carefully.
“I trust her to behave exactly as Karis Luran would.”
She frowns. “Nolla Verin says I need to learn to fight for myself if I expect others to fight on my behalf. Mother would have agreed.”
“Nolla Verin is wrong.”
“She is?”
“You are queen, Lia Mara, and you took that throne by force. You already know how to fight for yourself. I’ve seen your strength and bravery countless times.” I lean down to kiss her. “Now it’s time to show your people.”
Jake is waiting in the hallway when I finally emerge. He’s leaning against the opposite wall, his arms folded across his chest. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was dozing, but I’ve learned that Jake is very good at looking bored and inattentive when he’s actually quite the opposite. His eyes widen, and he straightens when he sees me. I’m not sure what about my appearance is telling, but he hooks a thumb in his sword belt and smiles. “Well, hi, Grey,” he says, too casually. “Nice night?”<
br />
I was a guardsman long enough to recognize this type of taunting, so I ignore him and look at Lia Mara’s guards, two women this morning. I only know one of them, a stony-faced guard named Tika who was loyal to Karis Luran.
“No one is to enter the queen’s chambers without an escort,” I say to them both. “I will speak to the scraver Iisak about remaining at her side throughout the day.”
They exchange a glance, then Tika nods. Her expression does not change. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I turn to stride down the hallway, but I’m not surprised at all when Jake falls into step beside me.
“Don’t start,” I say.
“You do realize you’re blushing.”
I’m not. At least I hope I’m not.
He grins. Silver hell.
“You must be exhausted,” he continues, “after … ah, standing guard.”
I give him a look and wonder how much of this I’m going to have to endure.
“What?” he says innocently.
I mimic his always-irreverent tone. “Don’t be a dick, Jake.”
He lowers his voice and mimics my severe one. “As you say, Your Highness.”
I smack him on the back of the head, and he laughs—but he quickly sobers. He’s quieter as he says, “I’ve been waiting till we were out of earshot to tell you this, but … her guards were going to storm in there.”
“What?” I look at him in surprise. “When?”
“Around midnight.” He pauses. “Apparently there’s worry that you would cause her harm.”
I stop short in the hallway and round on him. “That I would cause—”
“Shh.” He doesn’t stop. “Keep walking.”
I keep walking. “She has had two attempts on her life while I was nowhere near.”
“There are a lot of rumors.” He pauses. “Their law says whoever kills the queen gets to rule Syhl Shallow, right? One of the strongest rumors is that you intend to kill Lia Mara and claim the throne for yourself.”
“Why would I need to? We are already allies.” We pass a servant in the hallway, and my expression must be fierce, because he quickly bows and scurries out of the way.
“They don’t trust magic, Grey. They don’t trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “There are factions in the city who think Syhl Shallow needs to take a stand against your magic. They’re worried you’re manipulating her to gain control of her army, and once they’ve marched on Emberfall, you’ll take control of everything. Then their queen will be dead, and no one will be able to touch you because of your magic—”
“Enough.” I sigh and run a hand down my face.
They think I am manipulating her because they do see her as weak. She wants to be a peaceful queen, but that means we will battle uphill at every turn. If I take control of her army by force, we will seem to be at odds. If I don’t … we will struggle to hold them together at all.
Not for the first time, I wish for Rhen’s counsel.
I want to shove the thought out of my head, but as usual, it lodges there. He was not without his faults … but he would not be in this predicament. He was raised to do this, raised to rule a kingdom. He has the skill to outwit his opponents when they make themselves known. It’s why he was able to run Syhl Shallow out of Emberfall the first time—and likely why he was able to keep Lilith at bay for so very long.
It’s why I need this army to respect their queen and to follow me. Rhen will sense the slightest weakness and exploit it. My magic is worthless if we can’t move our forces into Emberfall. My claim to the throne is worthless if his people will not support me.
I once told Rhen not to get mired in self-doubt, and now I’m facing the same thing.
We’ve reached the final turn before the hallway that will lead to her strategy room, and I stop. I can hear the cacophony of voices echoing from here. Nolla Verin stands near the doorway with an advisor, Ellia Maya, and they seem deep in conversation. We’re too far to hear their words, but Nolla Verin casts a disapproving glance my way. I want to cast a disapproving one right back, but I’m sure they’ve all been waiting awhile, and that will do nothing to improve my position.
I look at Jake, who has stopped with me. “So I am to meet with generals and officers who already hate me and now think I am merely using them as a means to an end.” It’s no wonder Solt and the others glare at me with disdain on the training fields.
Jake stares back at me steadily. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but … aren’t you?”
I frown.
“Isn’t that the point of an army? Any army?” Jake continues. “When Harper first dragged me and Noah into Ironrose, I was hoping you’d get trampled by a horse, but I still fell in with that ‘good of Emberfall’ crap. I still risked my life. A lot of that was for Harper—but then a lot of it was for …” He pauses, then rolls his eyes, looking abashed. “Well, you, you idiot.” He glances meaningfully at the hallway. “They’re still here. They must believe in something you’re doing.”
I was not raised to be a prince. I am not a general. I was not even a soldier.
I don’t know how to make them believe in what I’m doing when I’m not entirely certain I do.
“Go.” Jake punches me in the shoulder. “Do you need a pregame pep talk?”
“What?”
“No guts, no glory. Get your head in the game. Go big or—”
“Jake.”
“Grey.” He hits me in the center of my chest, where the emblem of Emberfall is embedded in the leather: a gold lion and a red rose entwined, encircled in green and black, the colors of Syhl Shallow. The armor was once a gift from Karis Luran, in honor of our future alliance.
“Syhl Shallow needs to ally with Emberfall to survive,” Jake says fiercely. “You know that. They know that. Karis Luran herself knew that.”
“As I know that.” Lia Mara speaks from the hallway, and I turn to face her as she strides across the marble floor, her guards trailing behind. She has changed into fresh robes in layers of green, with a thick black belt laced into place at her waist. Her red hair hangs over her shoulder in a silken curtain. Her eyes are bright, but her mouth is solemn, and my heart skips at her beauty.
Jake bows to her, and at first I think it’s mockery and I’m going to have to punch him. But then he says, “Your Majesty,” in Syssalah, and I realize it’s not. Perhaps I should get my head in the game.
She smiles. “Jake. Good morning.”
“We were discussing strategy before meeting with the army officers,” he says.
“I heard a bit of your strategy,” she says, not fooled. “I’d like to join you. If I may.”
As if they were not her generals and officers. As if I would not grant her everything she asked.
I nod. “Always.”
She reaches for my arm and draws close enough that I can catch her scent, like oranges and vanilla. “I thought that showing a distance between myself and my armed forces would make my people realize that I will not quickly resort to violence.” She hesitates. “I believe it has done quite the opposite. I do not want my soldiers to think I do not need them. I do not want my people to think we are weak.”
They would never, I want to say, but it would be a lie. Her people are worried and uncertain, and it’s clear.
It’s impressive that she sees that. It’s more impressive that she admits that.
“Besides,” she says. “I disagree with what you said. I don’t need to show them my strength.”
These words are said more clearly, and Nolla Verin straightens at the end of the hallway when she hears them.
I glance down at Lia Mara in surprise. “You do not?”
“No.” She keeps her eyes ahead, fixed on the challenging gaze of her sister, but her fingers tighten on the bend of my arm. “This is not about Syhl Shallow alone. This is about forging an alliance between our countries. This is about learning the ways magic can be an asset, not a threat. This is about more than violence and power. This is about education, and knowledg
e, and communication.” She looks up at me, and her eyes are intense. “If my people must see strength, then we need to show them ours.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RHEN
It’s been two weeks since Lilith showed herself.
Two weeks—leaving Emberfall with less than a month until Grey brings his forces here.
I’m not sure which causes more dread to fill my chest. I’m not even sure it matters.
This morning, Harper is just outside my window again, sparring with Zo. We are to ride for Silvermoon later, because their Grand Marshal has grudgingly sworn his private army to defend Emberfall, and I want to see the state of his forces myself. My spy, Chesleigh Darington, is expected to return from Syhl Shallow by this evening with reports on their army, on whether she bears a weapon she thinks I will use against Grey—a weapon I hope to use against Lilith.
There are too many hopes. Too many fears. Too many unknowns.
The air has turned colder, bringing icy winds to cross the farmlands surrounding Ironrose, promising a bitter winter to come. The guardsmen now wear wool beneath their armor, and steel fire barrels have been placed at each of the sentry stands surrounding the castle. Heavy cloaks have been dragged out of chests, and the servants have added a feather down blanket to my bed. I remember once wishing for winter to find the castle, despairing at the end of every season that autumn would begin again. I forgot how quickly the days would turn shorter, how a chill could find every corner of my chambers.
Once we pass the solstice, snow will begin to blanket the mountains between here and Syhl Shallow, making travel difficult. It’s hard enough to feed an army when there’s a healthy harvest, and a lot more difficult to keep people motivated to fight when they’re cold and hungry. That will affect Grey’s army as well as my own.
Or maybe it won’t. Maybe he can magic food right into the mouths of his soldiers. Maybe he can drive away the snow and ice and trap Emberfall in a perpetual autumn again. Maybe he can wrap himself in magic so he’s untouchable the way Lilith was.
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