Enemy's Queen: The Aermian Feuds Book Three

by Frost Kay

  “What’s your name?” she prodded, hoping to break the silence.

  “Maeve.”

  She jerked.

  “Hold still,” Maeve chastised, fingering her hair. “It’s uncanny how similar you look to my mother,” she muttered, absently.

  This was the same woman who’d eyed her with disgust when she and Jasmine were first brought in? Blinking, she scrutinized the woman wielding the scissors. Maeve looked so much younger than she had first thought. She frowned. The Scythian woman spoke in a way that portrayed age, but the woman could hardly be a handful of years older than her.

  “If you keep frowning like that, your face will be stuck,” Maeve said, never looking up from her task.

  Her frown deepened. That was something her mother would say. It was odd, to say the least.

  True to her word, Maeve only trimmed her hair, and then plaited it simply. Once she was finished, she wrapped an arm around her back. “Back to bed with you, missy.”

  She helped Sage back to the bed, but ‘helped’ was probably a generous word. Sage gritted her teeth while she was basically carried back to bed. It was horrible having to rely on a stranger for her basic needs, but she was grateful nonetheless. Sage was the enemy to them, and yet the woman took care to help her. As the woman tucked her in, Sage caught her hand and offered a smile. “Thank you, Maeve. Truly. I won’t forget your kindness.”

  The woman stared at her for a long time, like she was looking deep inside her. “It was my pleasure, my lady.” She patted Sage’s hand and left the dim room.

  Finally alone, Sage allowed herself to fall back asleep.

  ***

  Hands tore at her clothes, and cruel, brown eyes glared down at her. “You’re nothing. You’ll always be nothing.”

  She struggled, and the monster pressed harder down onto her.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “I’ll always be on your skin. You’ll never get away from me,” Rhys whispered into her neck.

  She struggled harder, unable to breathe.

  “Sage.”

  “Always on your skin.”

  “Sage!”

  She jerked awake, her entire body shaking. Disoriented, she tried to roll over, only to come into contact with a masculine chest. “No!” She struggled, but her body wasn’t fighting like it should. Her movements were sluggish and weak.

  “Sage, it’s just me. It’s just Zane,” the warlord murmured in her ear. “Rhys can’t hurt you. He’s gone forever. He’ll never hurt you again.”

  She collapsed against his chest and cried harder. “He’s not gone. He’s still haunting me.” She trembled, her skin crawling. It was like Rhys’ breath was imprinted on her neck.

  “They’re just nightmares. It’s not real.” He placed her curled fist over his heart. “Count my heartbeats.”

  She flexed her fingers, pressed her palm against his chest, and began to count. She reached 562 when her heart stopped racing, her breathing evened out, and she realized exactly where she was and whom she was with. Sage pushed upright, and scooted away from the warlord, pulling the covers around her tighter. What was he doing here? She met his black gaze.

  “Thank you, but I would appreciate it if you got out of my bed.” She held her breath and inwardly winced. Even she could hear the tremor in her voice. She could not afford to appear weaker than she already was.

  He studied her, then climbed out of the bed and stood with his hands in his pockets. She breathed a sigh of relief and ran her eyes over his moonlit-haloed figure.

  “You’re in my room,” she stated.

  “Well, technically it’s my room, but it’s yours until you heal,” he replied.

  That startled her. “Why?” What was he after?

  “Because I can protect you here.”

  She didn’t believe that for one moment. People always have ulterior motives. “Why do you want to protect me? I’m the enemy.” She squinted harder, trying to gauge his reaction.

  “Are you my enemy? Have I treated you as one?”

  “No,” she said slowly, “but I can’t help feeling there will be a price for your generosity. It’s the way of the world. What do you expect of me?”

  His laugh danced through the air, raising goosebumps on her arms. She scowled at him while trying to rub them away. What was so funny?

  He shook his head. “So suspicious. Here…” He pulled something from his waist and held it out to her, the edge of a blade glinting in the low light.

  Sage eyed the dagger, and then the warlord. Was he trying to bait her? What trickery was he weaving?

  “It will not bite you. Take it. It’s a gift. A warrior should never be without a weapon.” He held it out farther.

  Sage reached out and hesitated, her hand hovering over the blade. She glanced at the warlord again and decided to just take it, since he was offering it. Pulling the dagger from his grasp, she held it to the light, examining it. It was a simple design, but the hilt fit well in her hand. She balanced it on her palm and smiled. It was balanced well, perfect for throwing. A sense of comfort blanketed her as she palmed the dagger and set it on her lap. Having a means to protect herself meant everything to her. Her gaze flicked back up, and her comfort fled at the intense interest on the warlord’s face. She needed to remember that, even with a weapon, she wasn’t safe here.

  He cocked his head. “What made you this way?”

  “What?” His question caught her off guard.

  “It’s like you expect me to attack you at any moment. What made you so suspicious?”

  She thought about lying, but from what she’d seen of him so far, he seemed like someone to see through untruths. So, she led with the ugly truth. “Rhys,” she said flatly.

  His jaw clenched, then loosened. “Not every man or Scythian is like him.”

  “True, but not every man is as good as my father,” she pointed out.

  “I find it interesting that you say your father, not your husband. From what I hear, you have a love match.”

  Her fingers clenched in the bedding when the warlord glided around the bed before sinking into a chair placed next to the mattress. He moved with an inhuman grace, and with restrained power. She shivered. He was dangerous. She had to stop forgetting what he was.

  “Tehl’s an honorable man with a good heart,” she said softly, inconspicuously pulling the blade from her lap and into her hand. The warlord seemed to miss nothing; he tracked the movement, but said nothing of it.

  “Do you trust him?”

  “With my life,” she replied without hesitation. She did. Tehl had many qualities she didn’t care for, but loyalty and honesty were two of his best traits. She trusted him.

  “Does he love you?” the warlord asked.

  “He does,” she said carefully. What an odd question. Where was he going with this? Her sluggish brain couldn’t figure it out. Already, fatigue was weighing her down.

  “Then why hasn’t he come for you?”

  That was a punch to the gut. She brushed aside her feelings and focused on logic. “A crown prince has many responsibilities. Running after his kidnapped bride into enemy territory would be foolish. And Tehl is not a fool.”

  Leather creaked as he leaned closer. “I sent word that you were safe but sick. That your health made it impossible to travel home without an escort. I even sent word that I would bring you to the border.”

  Home? Her breathing stuttered. He had to be lying. He was playing a game.

  “His reply was not what I expected.” His voice hardened. “A peace treaty and a threat.”

  She bowed her head to hide her expression. Tehl threatened the warlord of Scythia? That was a bold thing, but peace? It seemed farfetched. “Is peace such a bad thing?”

  “No, but the crown prince’s actions suggest otherwise.”

  “I don’t follow,” she replied, her brows slashing together.

  “Instead of jumping at the chance to retrieve you, he countered with the offer of your skills as a mediator. He said
they were unparalleled.”

  Her heart fell to her stomach. Tehl wanted her to stay here? “What else did the letter say?”

  “That as long as you were healthy and whole, he’d bring back his Scythian prisoner in the same condition.”

  What prisoner? Then it came to her. “Blaise,” she whispered.

  “What did you just say?”

  She cleared her throat. “He used Blaise?”

  “Yes.” He plucked a mug from the side table and handed it to her. “His wording was quite strong.”

  “To what end? That doesn’t sound like the crown prince at all.”

  “Men will do whatever is necessary to accomplish their will.”

  She took a sip and watched him over the rim. “And you?”

  He smiled. “I’m no different. But here is my concern. It may not sound like the crown prince, because he’s being manipulated.”

  “By who?” she mused.

  “I have my suspicions.”

  “Humor me,” Sage replied.

  “I believe it’s the Methian running things.”

  Her fingers tightened on her mug. How did he know Rafe was Methian?

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, Sage. Don’t play coy. You’re not unintelligent. You know of the one about whom I speak. He’s been manipulating everyone from the beginning.” The warlord leaned forward to make his point, energy seeming to teem around him. “Ask yourself this: why would he stir Aermia into a rebellion? How would that really help Aermia at all?”

  “We needed a new leader.”

  “But stirring up a rebellion? Surely, there are better ways to bring about change than a bloody rebellion? Why would he want Aermia weak?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” she deflected.

  “Come, now, you’re a brilliant woman. Aermia is the central kingdom. It holds all the power.”

  “True, maybe.” She raised a brow. Time to bait him as he’d been doing to her. “What keeps you from going after it, if it’s that valuable?”

  “I’ve never desired to leave my jungle. We’re self-sufficient. I don’t need your kingdom, so it has no appeal.”

  A small laugh escaped her. “The power kingdom has no appeal? I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s just Zane.”

  She ignored his correction, and steeled herself for what she would say next. “Your kingdom has been known for being power-hungry and covetous of others. What you’re saying is the opposite from everything I know to be true.”

  He lifted a hand and tugged at his hair. “Do you like to be held accountable for your family’s actions? Or people you don’t even know? That’s what it’s like. I have been held accountable for the sins of a deranged madman with a god complex who died hundreds of years ago. We can’t leave this place without being scorned.”

  The anguish in his voice did something to her. She knew what it was like to be judged by rumors.

  “Do you want peace?” she echoed again. The warlord didn’t seem evil. If he truly wanted peace, maybe she was exactly where she needed to be.

  “I want absolution,” he murmured. “I want the voices of the past to quiet.”

  “I can’t give you that, but—” Goosebumps broke out on her arms at the way he stilled at her words, like a predator reading for the hunt. Be brave, Sage. Brave. She swallowed and continued: “I can give you a chance to make a difference.”

  “Be careful,” Tehl whispered in her ear. “You’re playing a game you don’t know the rules to.”

  She blinked and ignored him, watching the man who held her future in his hands, and quite possibly, the future of her kingdom.

  “Do you really think you can erase hundreds of years of bad blood and animosity?”

  She chose her words carefully. “No. As much as I would like to say that prejudice will be a thing of the past, it’s not possible. Since the beginning of time, man has found a way to label each other, and then judge those labels. There have always been divisions, and there always will be.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  She stared straight into his handsome face. “I’m saying that I can’t change the past, but we can change the future. Together,” she added.

  His head cocked. “Together?”

  “Together.”

  She flinched when, in a single fluid motion, he stood and leaned toward her, the ends of his hair tickling her cheeks.

  “I accept your proposal, my lady.”

  Her eyes were huge when he kissed each of her cheeks. He smiled at her reaction, his white teeth flashing.

  “In Scythia, we seal a deal with a kiss.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Once you do this, there’s no going back,” Tehl warned in her ear.

  Sage leaned closer, not losing eye contact, and kissed one cheek, then the other.

  “It is done,” he whispered, his breath washing over her face.

  “It’s done,” she repeated.

  For better or worse, she’d just made a deal with the warlord of Scythia.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sage

  “You’re going to sleep the day away, Sage. Get up.”

  She yawned and ignored Tehl’s voice, snuggling into the bed. When was the last time she’d slept in?

  “Remember whose bed you’re sleeping in. How are you so sure he won’t come and join you?”

  A tingle ran up her spine and she stiffened. She wasn’t so sure, but the warlord had yet to try anything. “I don’t believe the warlord will harm me,” she muttered. “He wants peace, I can tell. Now go away.”

  A voice as smooth as whiskey washed over her. “Now, that’s just rude.”

  Sage jerked up, slipping her dagger from beneath her pillow, gritting her teeth as her whole body screamed with the unexpected move. She blinked repeatedly, her eyes still not focusing right, and frowned at the warlord sitting beside her bed.

  “What are you doing here?” Her tone was a little harsh, but this was the second time in a handful of hours he’d shown up in her room, silent as a wraith.

  Zane blinked at the dagger and sniggered. “I think that was the weakest threat I’ve ever received.”

  A grimace pulled her lips down as she glared at her shaking hand.

  “Put your dagger down, wild one.” He stifled his smile when she turned her glare on him. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

  “I’m sure,” she muttered.

  “Who were you speaking to?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “No one,” she responded automatically. How much had he heard of her conversation with Tehl?

  “It didn’t sound like no one.”

  “It was a dream.” That was partially true. She hadn’t been dreaming, but Tehl certainly was not real.

  The warlord cocked a brow. “You’re lying.”

  She kept her face impassive. “No, I’m not. My husband can tell you I talk in my sleep.”

  He shifted his hulking figure in the small chair and steepled his fingers. “Sometimes, when someone suffers a traumatic event in their lives, they experience certain things that are not healthy. These can be nightmares, flashbacks, being on edge, paranoia, and hallucinations. These things happen when your mind can’t handle what you experienced. Sometimes, your mind will block those memories to protect itself. I’ve seen it with my men.” A pause. “Blair reported to me what your journey was like.”

  She pulled her gaze away from his knowing eyes and stared instead at the wall over his shoulder. She’d do anything to lock away her memories of Rhys.

  “I’ve also seen your scars. All of them.”

  Her spine straightened. “Excuse me? What do you mean, ‘all of them’?”

  He ignored her question. “I have someone I want you to speak with.”

  She rubbed at her head. It was like he was speaking another language. “What do you want from me? Speak plainly.”

  “I want a healer to assess you.”

&
nbsp; “Why? What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “Nothing. He is going to speak with you. That’s all.”

  “That’s it? He won’t touch me?”

  The warlord stood. “He won’t touch you. In fact, he’s waiting right outside. May I send him in?”

  She blinked. The warlord had asked. He hadn’t demanded or done what he wanted. He’d asked.

  “I guess that’s okay.”

  He smiled at her and nodded to the cup next to the bed. “Drink your broth.”

  She reached out and took a sip from the mug.

  Satisfied, he strode to the door and whispered something to someone out of sight before an extremely tall man entered. It was almost an impossible task for Sage to keep her mouth from hanging open. His white hair shone like a beacon in the dim light. She sucked in a sharp breath as his magenta eyes met hers.

  A Sirenidae.

  “This is Ezra,” the warlord said. “He will visit you every day from now on.” He cast a glance at her and walked backward toward the door. “I’ll visit you later in the day, and Maeve will be by to help you bathe.”

  Sage nodded, noting the warlord’s departure, but refusing to take her eyes from the man now staring at her. He moved to a divan at the end of the bed and sat down, just observing. Her gaze darted to the door and back to the him. She wet her lips, not sure what she should say.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  His eyes tilted up at the corners when he smiled, making him even more handsome, if that were possible. She patted at her hair, self-conscious of her state of dress.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Sage. But that’s not what you were going to say, was it?” He arched a brow.

  “You have unique eyes,” she said slowly, gauging his reaction.

  His head tipped to the side as he studied her. “You know what I am. Intriguing. So, you’ve been in the company of a Sirenidae before. Well, a story for another day, I’m sure.”