Court's Fool (The Aermian Feuds Book 6)

by Frost Kay

  “Raziel.”

  “Mer.” Another shake. “You have to work through this. We can’t lose him. He’s too important.”

  She nodded, not really feeling anything. Sam always had a plan. Ream couldn’t be gone. He was a Sirenidae. The water was his home.

  Lurching toward the end of the ship, Mer jumped, twisting in the air to land in a perfect dive. She sliced through the water, her movements mechanical. Her lungs seized as she forced herself to inhale water, and her gills opened. She scanned the current for the men. Raziel floated with the water, his dark-red hair looking more like tendrils of black blood. Her heart pounded as the scent of blood hit her full-force. Water rushed past her ears, and panic sharpened her senses. Where was Ream?

  He’s a Sirenidae. He’ll be okay. Focus on the Methian.

  Mer fought the water and debris until she reached Raziel. She’d always known he was a large man, but it didn’t prepare her for his actual size. She didn’t even try to wrap her arms around his chest. Even if she could have gotten a grip around his broad shoulders and torso, his clothes and armor would have made it impossible. Quickly, she used the blade from her waist to cut off his chest plate and armor. Once that was done, she grabbed one of his wrists and hauled him toward the surface. As she fought for his life, Mer realized her eyes burned. Shock radiated through her system. She was crying. They weren’t going to make it. It had been too long.

  Don’t give up.

  Mer dug deep and swam with everything she had. Chunks of debris sliced at her skin, but she didn’t stop until they reached the surface. She broke the waves with a jagged cry. Her body seized, and she spewed sea water from her lungs, her gills sealing. Mer thrashed around to get Raziel’s head above water. She doggedly worked toward Sam’s ship, the drag of Raziel’s body slowing her. Mer grunted and fought against his weight.

  Snakes of blood spread from the Methian’s head. She clutched him closer in desperation. Leviathans were around. She needed to move fast. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and Mer found the strength to reach the ship. She latched onto the ladder.

  “Help!” she screamed. There was no way she could get his huge body up the side of the ship.

  Sam popped his head over the side and tossed a rope down. “Cinch the loop beneath his armpits!”

  She struggled to keep Raziel’s face above the surface as she slid the rope under his arms and secured it. “Done!”

  “Pull!” Sam shouted.

  The line went taught, and Raziel’s limp form began to lift from the sea. Mer tiredly clung to the ladder as the Methian prince disappeared over the edge. She’d done her job and saved his royal arse. Waves crashed over her from all sides as she released the rope, sinking into the inky water. The change painfully overtook her once more.

  Mer stared up at the turbulent surface as she drifted deeper into the depths of the sea.

  Move. Find Ream. Figure out what the hell happened.

  With the last bit of strength she possessed, she glided through the salty water. The saltwater was tainted with blood—human, animal, and Sirenidae. Her stomach dropped as she followed the scent of Sirenidae blood. It grew stronger.

  It can’t be him. It just can’t!

  Her eyes scoured the darkness until she spotted him.

  Ream lay on the sand, his hands on a massive gut wound, blood leaking through his fingers. Too much blood.

  Mer burst into action. Her knees caught some coral, but she didn’t pay it any attention as she met his shiny gaze. Her fingers fluttered over his.

  “What do I do?” she croaked. She scanned the ocean floor. There weren’t any sea herbs nearby.

  Ream placed a hand on her own, pulling her attention back to him. “I’m sorry,” he said, more blood leaking from his mouth.

  Mer’s bottom lip trembled. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. They had my daughter.”

  She blinked slowly, her heart thundering in her ears. Ream’s daughter had died years before. “It’s okay,” she crooned. “No one has your daughter, love. Just hold on.”

  He shook his head. “They have her. I had to do as he commanded to keep her safe.” His eyes seemed to plead with her. “I didn’t have a choice. I’m so sorry.”

  Mer stilled. “What have you done?”

  “What was necessary to protect my only child.” He winced. “They know Aermia’s movements and there are other Sirenidae helping the Scythians. Beware who you trust.”

  No. “Tell me you’re lying,” she rasped.

  “I’m so sorry.” He seized her hand, blood clouding the water around them.

  Her throat clogged. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “There’s nothing to be done.”

  “Shhhh,” she whispered. “Everything will be okay.” Nothing would be okay.

  Ream squeezed her fingers. “Listen carefully to me. A woman is being held on one of the Scythia ships. She’s pregnant.”

  Mer’s head spun. Jasmine. “How long have you known where she’s been?” They’d been looking for her for weeks.

  “Long enough.” His magenta eyes were full of pain. “Look for the ship with the black leren painted on the side. You’ll find her there.” He gave her a tender smile. “I’ve always loved you, Mer. I’m sorry for hurting you. Just know that.”

  His body seized, and the life from her husband’s eyes faded.

  “Ream? Ream!” Mer screamed, her hands shaking as she clasped each side of his face. “Please don’t leave me.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “No, no, no! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” she cried, lifting his torso onto her legs, and cradling his face to her chest. “Forever, remember?” Even knowing what he’d done, it didn’t diminish her love for him.

  Time ceased to exist as she rocked her dead husband. Sobs wracked her body as she mourned the boy who’d been her best friend her entire childhood. The boy who had grown into a man she loved with her whole heart. The man who married another, only to have his wife and child die in an accident after five years of marriage. The man she’d nursed back to life. The man who supported her rebellion against her grandfather in order to fight for what was right. The person she planned on having a family with.

  The man who’d betrayed her.

  Unbidden, a mourning song flowed out of her. Leviathans drew close, forming a circle, their haunting hums adding to her song. They mourned with her. When the last note passed her lips, the beasts receded into the deep, leaving Mer with the soul she’d loved her whole life.

  “I will love you as long as the moon shines in the night sky,” she whispered.

  Twenty-Five

  Tehl

  Morning arrived with a bitter chill.

  He turned onto his side and watched his wife sleep. It was something that he knew was probably improper, if not a little eerie, but he couldn’t stop. It was addictive to see her without her armor, so unjaded. Free.

  Unable to help himself, he scooted closer and kissed her bare shoulder.

  This might be the last time you kiss her.

  He froze, his lips pressed to her olive skin. Slowly, he pulled back and tried to imprint her form into his mind. He was a wretch of a man to agree to such a plan. What sort of worthless rubbish would agree to send his wife back to her abuser? He hated the idea. What he hated more was that he could see the logic in it.

  Damned logic.

  When Sage succeeded, and she would, it would change the tide of the war.

  But at what price?

  Would Sage go back to being the ghost she was after escaping Scythia? His gaze focused on her once again. It would be so easy to knock her out and drag her away to some place safe, away from this mess. Away from the madness of this plan.

  You promised a partnership.

  Tehl squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. His wife was the fiercest person he knew. While he loathed every bit of the plan they’d formed last night, he knew he couldn’t throw her in a tow
er somewhere. She was a warrior, through and through. They were equals, partners.

  At least in this, they took the risk together. They’d be working as a team. He smiled darkly. The warlord wouldn’t be prepared for that. He dropped another kiss to her skin and rolled out of bed. It was early, but he needed to check on Gav. Mira had said the first night would be the most dangerous. While Tehl would have loved to wake up his wife with his incessant need for her, she was right about one thing: with privilege came responsibility. Gavriel was more than a responsibility. He was family, and he deserved someone looking out for him.

  He pulled his cold, leather trousers up his legs and hissed at the frigid temperature. Next, Tehl tossed on his shirt and clasped his cloak before jamming his feet into his boots.

  He paused at the end of the bed and soaked in the sight of his wife one last time before he left. Stars, she was beautiful. He spun on his heel and moved into the war room area of the tent. Tehl spared a glance at the map but moved on.

  Freezing air nipped at his ears, causing him to pull the hood of his cloak over his head. Two Elite silently followed him while two others took their place to guard the royal tent. They ghosted through the camp, the dark of the early morning only broken by a low fire here and there. Frost and icy snow crunched beneath their boots, as they made their way to the infirmary nestled in the trees.

  He quietly entered the tent, followed closely by the Elite. The sight of the burned and injured men made him want to scream as they passed row after row. Upon reaching the back, he paused and took a fortifying breath before entering the room holding Gav. Sweltering heat slammed into him, and perspiration dampened the back of his neck immediately. He glanced around the room as his men took up silent posts on either side of the entrance.

  Mira sat on the floor, her cheek leaned against the cot’s edge, her fingers resting on the pulse at Gav’s wrist.

  “Mira?” he whispered. She didn’t stir. Tehl approached her carefully and knelt beside the healer. “Mira?” he said a little louder.

  She cracked an eye open and lifted her head. “He is all right, my lord. His pulse is steady for the time being.”

  Tehl’s shoulders drooped in relief. “A fever?”

  Mira straightened and placed the back of her hand on his cousin’s brow. “Lower than it was. It spiked high a few hours ago. I brewed some special tea for him to reduce the fever.”

  “An infection?” Tehl asked, eyeing Gav’s pallid complexion. Mira hesitated. “Be straight with me.”

  “Very well, my lord. Yes, likely.”

  He sighed. “We’re long past you calling me by my title.”

  Mira grimaced. “It’s hard to break a habit that was beaten into me.” She brushed a sweaty strand from Gav’s face. “It’s normal for the body to run a fever when it’s trying to repair itself. I did my best flushing out the wound, but there is a high chance there is infection. It’s common with this sort of injury.”

  “Will he survive?” Tehl asked, the words bitter on his tongue.

  “I can’t say,” Mira whispered. “I can promise you that I’ll do my best to care for him.”

  “I know you will.” He placed a hand on her slim shoulder. She’d lost weight. “Why don’t you go get some food first and break your fast?”

  “It’s morning already?”

  “More or less. Go.”

  “Is that a royal order?”

  Tehl cracked a half smile. “If it needs to be. Get on with you.”

  Mira smiled in return and clambered to her feet. She stretched and groaned. “If you need me, I won’t be far.”

  He watched her leave, passing the silent Elite, before he turned back to his friend. Gav was too still. Too pale. What he wouldn’t do to have him healthy and whole.

  “I wish you were well, my friend.” Tehl settled himself on the faded rug, next to the cot. “Living in a world where you aren’t alive and well is unthinkable. Plus, I could use your guidance.” He stared down at his hands. “A decision was made last night to send Sage back to the warlord. It feels wrong, but I can see how it will benefit us. She’ll give us a fair chance at destroying the ballistae. I wanted to talk her out of it, but her mind is set. I know she’s putting on a brave face. I can see it in her eyes that she’s scared.” His fingers curled into fists. “What kind of man sends his wife into a den of monsters?”

  Gav didn’t reply.

  “That’s not even the worst of it.” Tehl lifted his head and gazed at his cousin’s profile. “I keep imagining what you went through after Emma died. You barely survived. You’ve never been the same. I don’t know how I could bear it. What I feel for Sage…” He paused and tipped his head back. “It’s too much, too big. She is my partner, but I don’t want to treat her that way. I want to lock her away. Barbaric, isn’t it?”

  Still no answer.

  He glanced at Gav, checking to make sure he was still breathing. “Part of me wishes I could go back to the time I considered Sage a traitor and spy. Shameful, I know. It was easier then. Things were black and white. If she dies,” Tehl whispered, “I don’t know if I can live with the knowledge that I let her go.”

  He felt sick even saying the words.

  “When we were growing up, war was glamorized. It seemed like a heroic thing. Now, all I can see are the lives lost and the blood on my hands. Too many sacrifices have been made, and more will come. I will shoulder them to the best of my ability, as is my duty.” A pale, sightless face entered his mind, the dead boy from the night prior.

  He shook his head, trying to dispel the image. “I’ve spoken too much about myself. Sage tells me that I need to look on the positive side more often, and I realized that your attack, while horrible, has a silver lining. Last night, I experienced a soul-crushing blow from Scythia. I am thankful you were not there to witness the atrocity.”

  Tehl shifted around, so he could prop his back against the cot. “I’ll stop speaking and let you rest. Heal quickly. You are missed.”

  Twenty-Six

  Mira

  Mira tossed her cloak over her shoulders and pulled her hood up over her blonde hair as she stepped outside the infirmary. Her breath fogged in the early morning air. Heavy, silvery clouds floated in the sky, only allowing shafts of moonlight to peek out here and there. The snow crunched beneath her boots as she moved around the side of the tent to her favorite spot to sit and gather her thoughts.

  Just beneath the bow of frosted evergreens lay a fallen tree trunk. Mira pulled her cloak tighter around her body and sat. The snow and frost coated every leaf, branch, and tree as far as she could see. The clouds shifted, and a shaft of moonlight pierced the inky darkness, flooding the tiny glen with moonlight. It was so idyllic, like something from a fairy story. The world looked like it had been dripped in diamonds. An icy breeze bit at her cheeks, but she didn’t care. Nothing could move her from that spot. Mira held her breath as if the smallest sound would shatter the magic around her.

  Jacob had taught her to appreciate the little moments. Life as a healer wasn’t an easy path. More often than not, you gave yourself to the job until you felt there was nothing left to give. Still, you pressed onward. From the moment Jacob had adopted her, Mira knew she wanted to be a healer like her papa. He’d readily taken her in, despite the reservations of others. A soft smile touched her chapped lips. Jacob never let anyone tell him what to do. A brilliant mind and willing spirit were enough for him. It never mattered that she was female.

  Soft footsteps alerted her to the approach of another. She turned toward the sound. Raziel smiled at her, weaving his way through the trees, a steaming cup in each hand. He stepped over the fallen log and wordlessly handed her a mug. The heat warmed her cold fingers and seeped through the bandages of her wounded hand.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, lifting the earthen mug to her nose. Garlic, oregano, and pepper teased her senses. Mira glanced at the prince in surprise. “Soup?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I figured you might be hungry.”
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br />   “I am.” She took a cautious sip, and the hot brew warmed her throat before heating her belly. Mira hummed in appreciation. “This is delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorite recipes.”

  She lowered the cup and eyed him over the rim. “A family recipe?”

  “One of my mother’s. She made sure we all knew how to prepare it.”

  Mira’s brows raised. “Did you cook this?”

  “Surprised?” he asked with a smile, his golden eyes twinkling.

  “Frankly, yes.”

  “Just because I am royalty?”

  Mira snorted and took another sip of the delicious broth before answering. “More like because you are a man.”

  Raziel swiveled to face her, tossing a leg over the tree trunk. “Cooking is a skill every person should possess. I wouldn’t want to get stuck in a snowstorm and not know how to prepare a meal to keep myself warm while it passes.”

  At the mention of snow, she shivered. While Mira loved the snow, she hadn’t spent much time this far north before. Her only experience with snow was as a child, and it had melted in a day. It had seemed magical. She cast a glance around. She had a sneaking suspicion that the marvel of snow would wear off when it didn’t melt away.

  “What’s it like, a snowstorm?”

  “Cold. White. Dangerous. Beautiful.”

  Even talking about it made her colder. Mira took another long sip and watched the play of moonlight against the ice crystals. Beautiful, indeed.

  Raziel shifted and his face creased in pain. He stretched his right shoulder.

  Her brows furrowed. “Have you been injured?”

  “Nothing that won’t heal. I was on the coast and someone got the drop on me.”

  “Has someone looked at it?”

  “Yes. My mother helped bandage me up, dearest. I’ll be back to prime shape in no time.”

  Mira eyed him skeptically. Men were so damned prideful. She’d bet the wound was worse than he was letting on, but she let it go. Queen Osir was an incredible healer and she’d seen to her son. No need to worry.