“What are you doing here, Saer?” she whispered.
“I wanted to see you.” I looked away and rubbed the back of my neck. How ridiculous did I sound? Like a— My eyes caught on an open letter on the bedside table. Before she could realize I’d noticed, I snatched it from the desk and brought it toward the fireplace to read.
“A letter from your mother?” I said in a tight voice. The word Daughter was scrawled in tight, feminine writing. “She misses you and hopes you’ll invite her to court soon?”
Anais leapt from the bed. “That’s mine.”
I held the paper above my head and continued. “Remember your duty?”
Anais bared her teeth and leapt for the page, her chest brushing against mine. I felt every inch of her all the way down to my cock. It wasn’t until she leapt again and I stepped back to avoid her body that I realized she wore a sheer white nightdress. And, despite the blazing fireplace, her nipples were hard. I ripped my gaze away from the dusty pink peaks to her flushed face. “You should burn this.”
She crossed her arms, unknowingly making things worse as the mounds of her breasts peeked out from the swoop of her neckline. “Why? It’s not incriminating.”
“Everything is incriminating,” I said, tossing it into the fire.
“Not having any correspondence with my mother is more suspicious.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you think I left it out on the table?”
I glared at her then, defiance shining in her eyes. My cock throbbed. Fuck. Not acceptable. I grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and threw it at her, perhaps a little too harshly. “Cover yourself.”
Anais scowled and let the blanket drop to the floor. “You may be the Prince’s Wing, but you’re not mine. You don’t have an obligation to protect me.”
I scowled down at her, jealousy and a desperate boldness brimming. “Do I not?”
“You’re sworn to protect Prince Bastian above anything and anyone else. Letters from the countess to her daughter aren’t something to concern yourself with.”
Hearing the prince’s given name from her mouth snapped my restraint. Every step I took, she took one back until she hit the wall. With nowhere to go, she looked up at me with wide eyes. It wasn’t fear I saw there, but something else. Something primal.
“I will protect Bastian’s life with my own.” I leaned down to speak in her ear. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t protect yours in the process.”
“And sneaking into my room in the middle of the night is protecting me? What if someone comes to check on me?” she asked in an uneven voice.
I ran the tip of my nose down her bare throat. “Do they often check on you when you’re sleeping?”
“If I’m sleeping, how would I know?”
“I don’t think they do.” I grazed the edge of her shoulder with my teeth and smiled when she shivered. “Your lady’s maids are asleep or occupied with guards. There is one man in the hall outside, and he’s asleep by now.”
Anais placed her hands on my chest as if to push me away but didn’t. “How do you know?”
“It’s my job to know things, my lady.”
She did push me then. Though she wasn’t strong enough to move me, I stepped away, and she darted around me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Trust me,” I said humorlessly. “I’m aware.”
When I turned to face her, she sat on the edge of the bed, watching me. The firelight danced over her, drawing me in like a moth. “Bastian will come see you tomorrow,” I forced myself to say, and her eyes fell to her lap. I trailed a hand over her hair, down her braid, and lifted the ends. “What’s your favorite book?”
“What?”
“Your favorite book,” I repeated without meeting her curious gaze. “What is it?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Are you lying?” I twirled the hair around my fingers, memorizing the silky feel of it.
She tilted her head. “Why would I lie about that when you know much more scandalous things about me?”
I made a low, thoughtful sound. “Bastian was reading your favorite book today so you could talk about it tomorrow.”
“He was?” she asked, surprised.
A sliver of bitterness worked its way to the surface. “Does that make you happy? Knowing you’ll have a husband willing to do things like that for you? He will treat you well for the rest of your life.”
She winced. “But how long will my life be if I marry him?”
Not long. He would find out the truth eventually. Someone from Port Black could recognize her, an angry governor would eventually start digging into her past, or the Red Asters would play their hand. “We’ll never know, because you’re leaving before the wedding.”
“Saer, I can’t—”
“Trust me.” It was asking a lot. More than I was capable of. But I would do whatever necessary to stop this impending disaster from happening.
Anais studied my face for a moment, though I wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Then she reached out and grabbed my beltloops. “If I trust you, will you stay?”
“No.” I pulled her hands away gently. After what happened in the bathroom—and what she said following it—I had to do better. Be better. “The situation hasn’t changed which means, if I stay, you’d regret it later.”
“Things can be different if I don’t marry the prince.” She twisted free of my grip and slid across the bed to make room for me. “We can have each other like we want without guilt.”
A low growl built in my chest as I leaned one knee onto the mattress. Fuck. I wanted what she was offering more than anything else in that moment, but I couldn’t. “When I get you out of the palace, we won’t see each other again.”
She inhaled sharply. “Why?”
“Because if you want to remain safe, you need to stay away.” I gripped her ankle and pulled her body closer. Then I swung her legs sideways and flung the covers up over her. “Go to sleep, Anais.”
“I’m not tired.”
I chuckled, but the humor quickly faded as I hovered over her. My pants grew uncomfortably tight and I fisted her blankets. “Then close your eyes.” I lowered myself so my lips hovered just above hers without touching. “Imagine that I stayed. Imagine my hands on your body, my tongue on your skin. And, when I leave and you press your fingers inside yourself, pretend it’s me.”
“Saer,” she breathed.
That was all I could give her. Those words. If I was going to let her go, I couldn’t risk my heart more than I already had. And, if I failed to save her, I still wanted to be able to look Bastian in the eye. The small bit of hope that I held onto for happiness was at an end.
“I would make you moan loud enough to wake the entire palace,” I promised. Then I placed a brutal kiss to her lips and left through the unlocked window.
Landing quietly on my feet behind a large bush, I checked the area and moved through the shadows all the way back to my room. My cock was so hard, it hurt. I knew if I did anything about it, I would feel guilty for it after, but I could barely breathe from the want. Before I could stop myself, my hand wrapped around the hard length.
And I pretended too. Pretended that Anais was doing exactly as I told her—fingers inside, imagining they were mine. My name on her lips.
Chapter Eighteen
Arrow nocked. String taught. Target area cleared. I took a deep breath and released. The arrowhead pierced the straw man straight through the heart as I reached for another. There were too many soldiers training today to spar. I’d gotten a lecture more than once that showcasing my skills was too distracting for the younger men.
As if showcasing was my intent. I only ever wanted to improve and, at the same time, work out my frustrations. The fact that the leaders referred to the men as younger was laughable too—I had trained in this very arena while they sat on their mothers’ hips. Another arrow left my bow and sank into the target’s left eye. Or, what would’ve been an eye if it were more than straw bound together into a man’s sil
houette.
Another and another followed, leaving the target utterly vanquished. I set the bow on the table beside me and sighed as the steward ran out to retrieve the arrows. My gaze went to the groups of men. Some ran drills with spears while standing in formation, others used dulled swords in pairs or against more straw men. No one else had dared approach archery while I trained there, not that I was surprised.
The high, stone walls and dirt floor of the arena had seen me humiliated, whipped, and torn down repeatedly through the years. Ostracized from the others due to my position as Wing, and then, later, because I’d defeated both of the King’s Wings in a battle meant for show. Meant to show the King’s strength. Not mine nor, through association, Bastian’s.
“My Lord Wing,” the steward said, setting the arrows down beside me.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
The group of youths near the entrance suddenly went still, taking a knee. An eerie silence filled the air. No more clashing metal or stomping of feet. I snagged my bow, nocked an arrow, and began to raise it as Bastian stepped into view.
He wore leather training gear instead of his usual embroidered finery but his coronet was still in place. The sun glinted off the silver where it peeked from beneath his braids. I lowered the bow and walked out to meet him with sweaty palms.
Dulled swords and low skillsets didn’t mean no one would take a swing at the prince. They would die for it, but if anyone were foolish enough to try, they likely wouldn’t give a shit about that. The Red Asters would remember their bravery! Idiots. The Red Asters wouldn’t give a shit. I narrowed my eyes and scowled at the men around us.
“Your Highness,” I said with a bow. “What are you doing here?”
Bastian clapped me on the shoulder. “The meeting finished early and the guards said you were training.”
“I would’ve come to get you.” I did my best not to sound like I was scolding the prince in front of everyone, but my nerves were fraying more and more.
“The prince was worried he’d gotten rusty.”
Volney.
I gripped the bow so hard I thought it would snap. The King’s Wing had escorted Bastian here? We could’ve trained together at the Prince’s Palace or cleared the arena to eliminate any threats.
Bastian lifted his sword, the sheath already unbuckled from his belt. “Shall we practice like old times?”
I glowered over his shoulder at Volney. Fucking bearded prick. “If you wish, but it might be wiser to go elsewhere.”
“Nonsense.” Bastian drew his sword and threw the sheath at Volney’s face. “Clear a space,” he ordered.
Fuck.
I had to let him beat me in front of the men. But, when he did, I would probably be mandated to train harder when Volney reported it back to the king. No one had forced me to train in years. Though I enjoyed it, doing it at my leisure was one of the only choices I had been allowed to make.
“Shall I warm him up for you, Your Highness?” Volney asked.
Bastian shot a curious glance at the Wing and opened his mouth—probably to say no—when I cut him off.
“A rematch?” I forced a laugh. Letting him win could earn my way back into the Main Palace. If Volney alone beat me, then surely Volney and Nen would be able to keep the king safe from my imagined assassination attempts. “I’d be more than happy to beat you again.”
“Saer,” Bastian warned.
“It’s fine,” I assured him and drew the sword at my hip. Then I pointed to two of the most skilled men. “If anything happens to the prince while I fight, it will be your heads.”
The order made them bristle. They were older than me and in charge of entire battalions, but not as highly ranked as I was. They flanked Bastian and escorted him toward the wall to better protect his back.
Once I knew he was well guarded, a quick glance told me the soldiers had moved to give us more room. I hadn’t even lowered into the proper stance before Volney struck out. The tip of his sword soared straight for my abdomen and I stumbled back a step to avoid it.
He used my poor footing to his advantage and spun with the sword, turning completely around before I could steady myself, and slammed a fist into my jaw. I landed on my ass and rolled, narrowly avoiding a boot to the throat.
Fighting to kill, are we?
I launched myself up. His eyes were on my sword, not on the small dagger I slipped from my bracer. It flew from my fingers, slicing his thigh, before he even knew what happened. Volney’s sword flew upward as he howled, catching my blade midair. He glared at me, teeth bared behind his untrimmed beard, and I felt the hate pulse from him
Let him win.
Let him.
It was easier said than done as he swept out a leg, knocking me to the ground. Fucking dirty fighting. I wanted to trace his smirk with my blade, etch it permanently into his features. But instead, I forced myself up. Made a few clumsy swings. Blocked. Countered. Made it look real.
And then, when I got behind him with the intent to land at least one good blow before letting him disarm me, he whirled around at just the right moment. His elbow slammed down hard on my shoulder. I tilted sideways from the force and then the hilt of his sword slammed into my temple.
Stars danced in front of my eyes. The arena spun. Bastian leaned over me, which meant I must’ve been on the ground, though I didn’t recall getting there. His orders to get a medic rang in my ears. I groaned and lifted a hand to my head as the prince mumbled something.
✽✽✽
My head throbbed when I woke. Couldn’t remember falling asleep either… But I wanted to do it again to avoid dealing with the raging headache.
“Saer?”
I cracked an eye to find Bastian sitting beside a bed in one of the healer’s rooms. Shelves of tonics hung behind the prince and a bitter odor lingered in the air. I pushed myself up into a sitting position and touched my head. “Ouch.”
“Volney went too far,” Bastian seethed.
“It’s fine.” Or it would be when the room stopped tilting every time I moved my head. “I meant to let him win, but I didn’t expect that.”
“Why would you let him win?”
I met Bastian’s gaze and held it. Did he really not know? “If I lost to him, that would mean your father’s Wings are capable of protecting him against me.”
Bastian sat back in a creaky chair and folded his arms. “You mean against me.”
“We all know you’re not going to get through both Volney and Nen,” I said dryly.
He huffed. “You know how to wound a man’s pride.”
“You’ll get over it. And now maybe I’ll be allowed to go in the Main Palace with you on a regular basis.” And avoid the temptation of going to the Women’s Palace at the same time.
“You’re a damn moron, you know that?” Bastian punched my arm. “You’re not sick of me yet? And you want to sit through tedious meetings?”
A middle-aged man with graying hair opened the door and stepped inside. “Your Highness,” he said with a bow. Then he turned to me with studious eyes. “It’s good to see you awake, Lord Wing. How do you feel?”
“As you’d expect.”
The healer ignored me and went to his wall of glass bottles. Each was filled with brown, yellow, or clear liquid. “You have a concussion. I’ll give you something for the pain, but the best thing to do is rest. Two days, if the prince can spare you, or extremely light work if he cannot.”
“Light work?” I grumbled. “What do you think my job is?”
“I can spare him.” Bastian punched my arm again. “The guards can escort me to the Main Palace. I promise to come right back after and behave so you don’t need to worry.”
Now that he’d announced his exact plans in front of the healer, worry was all I would do. He was probably an Aster. Faramond was going to love hearing about this. The rebels could use the situation to kill two birds. First, Bastian as he went to the Main Palace alone on a regular schedule, and then me, when the king blamed me for daring to
be injured.
“Two drops, twice a day,” the healer said, pressing a cool cylinder into my hand. “Any more and you won’t wake up again. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. The healer nodded, bowed to Bastian, then left. I swung my feet off the bed and glared at Bastian. “Rest for two days? Both of you are out of your minds.”
“And yet, your mind is the one that just took a blow.” Bastian smirked. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a black eye. Do you think your secret lover will find it attractive? I’ve heard some women do.”
I reared back, regretting the sudden movement instantly. “What are you talking about?”
“The noblewoman you met,” he prodded. “Are you going to tell me who she is yet?”
My heart slammed into my ribcage so hard I thought it would break bones. “We aren’t lovers. I was infatuated for a moment, but we both know I can’t be with her. Besides… she’s engaged.”
“Engaged?” Bastian scooted forward in his chair, eyes twinkling as if he just got the clue he needed to discover her identity. And perhaps he had. How many noblewomen were engaged right now? Fuck. But his gaze softened. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her up.”
“Nothing a few nights at the brothel won’t fix,” I muttered. The thought of touching anyone besides Anais made my skin crawl.
“I thought you gave that up?”
“Gave up fucking?” Not intentionally. It had been a while since I visited the royal brothel—a perk of my position—but I never enjoyed it. Not really. At first it was curiosity that sent me there, then youthful abandon that quickly turned to self-loathing. I forced myself onto my feet and only swayed slightly. “I’m a Wing, not a eunuch, you bastard. Now move it before the smell of this place makes me throw up.”
Chapter Nineteen
When I was younger, I always wanted healing to take longer so I could miss days of training. It had been the only time I was allowed a decent night’s sleep followed by a day or two in bed. Now, I wished my body still ached to avoid guarding Bastian as he visited the Women’s Palace for the first time.
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