Enemy's Queen: The Aermian Feuds Book Three

by Frost Kay

  Having ascertained what he needed to, Tehl lunged. As he moved in a sequence of attacks, Sam dropped to the ground and slid under Tehl’s arm, only to pop up behind him and place his sword on the back of Tehl’s neck.

  “You lose.”

  “Swamp apples,” he muttered. The crown prince’s chest sawed in and out as he fought to catch his breath. He slid his sword into his scabbard and yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. A whistle had him turning his neck and arching a brow at his brother. “What?”

  “By the time Sage gets home, she won’t even recognize you with all those muscles and bruises.”

  Tehl scowled and shrugged on the clean shirt an Elite had handed him. He didn’t bother with the buttons and crossed his arms over his chest, self-consciousness striking him.

  His brother barked out a laugh. “Only you would be embarrassed by that comment.” Sam took on a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I should have my wife kidnapped…then I could be motivated enough to look like you.”

  His levity disappeared. It was like his brother had thrown cold water on him; as if he needed a reminder of his worries. “And you say I never watch my mouth.”

  Sam’s smile faded. “What would you have me do? If you can’t laugh about it, why live?”

  “Well, it’s not funny,” he growled back.

  “You’re right, it’s not, but it’s how I handle things. You know that.”

  Tehl shook his head. “Well, this time it’s not right.”

  Sam scrubbed a hand down his face. “What then? Ought I to deal with this situation like you? Work constantly, hardly eat, and spar while you’re supposed to be sleeping? How’s that working for you, huh? You know you’re at the end of your rope, so you tell me which of our coping methods is healthier.”

  Tehl dropped his head to stare at the sand beneath his feet. His brother had a point, but it didn’t make this any easier. He was occupied enough with his duties as ruler during the day that he simply forgot to eat, but at night… Well, at night he found he just couldn’t sleep. His dreams frequently featured Sage these days and in them, he was always searching for her, but she always died right before he reached her. He rubbed his chest. Her scent had even begun to fade from their room. He swallowed hard and met his brother’s sympathetic gaze.

  “It troubles me… more than I’d like to admit.” That wasn’t something he’d planned on sharing, but it was true.

  Sam crossed the circle and clasped his arm. “I know. The black bags beneath your eyes attest to that. When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?”

  His response was automatic: “The night before she disappeared.”

  His brother sucked in a breath. “As long as that?”

  Anger sparked inside him and he shook off Sam’s hand. “How can I sleep, knowing she is suffering or she might be…?” He couldn’t finish the thought.

  “She’s not dead. We have to believe in that.”

  “It’s been over two months.” He paused, his face sober. “Honestly? There’s a part of me that almost hopes she is,” he confessed, though the admission caused a familiar pang of guilt. He watched his brother’s expression, awaiting judgment for his words, but none came. He blew out a relieved breath. It seemed his brother understood that in some situations death was a mercy and a kindness.

  “She’s strong. She’ll make it through this,” Sam assured. When his brother didn’t seem relieved, he added, “She will… She has to.”

  “Even if she does, in what condition will we find her, Sam? Will she still be Sage, or will she be a shell? Or perhaps worse?”

  “We can’t know and it’s better to leave the what ifs alone. You can’t worry over something that might never happen.”

  “I know.” And logically, he did. But since Sage had snuck into his life, things weren’t as clear and logical as they used to be. His attention shifted to Garreth, who was striding in their direction at a clipped pace, his limp barely noticeable.

  “News, my lord. We’ve finally received news!”

  He exchanged a shocked look with his brother, before they both ran toward the man.

  “What news?”

  “We’ve received a letter from Scythia. It’s awaiting you in the war room.”

  “Make sure Lilja and Hayjen are notified,” Tehl commanded, already heading that way.

  “They’re here already.”

  Tehl simply nodded and sprinted into the palace. The hallways and doors blurred as his mind focused on one thing: getting to the war room and reading the contents of that letter. He burst through the doors and scanned his council as he took his chair. “Where is it?”

  “Here, my lord.” Gav held out a sealed letter.

  Tehl stared at it for several heartbeats, slightly afraid of the information it contained. He took a breath and commanded, “Please read it, Gavriel.”

  His cousin nodded and cracked the seal with his dagger. Gav first scanned the document and then began reading:

  “‘To the lord of the Aermian kingdom, the warlord of Scythia sends his greetings.

  It was somewhat of a shock when we discovered one of your messengers bearing a missive. It’s been a long time since Scythia’s been in contact with the outside world, so please excuse my manners if they offend.’”

  Gav pulled in a breath and continued: “‘Many years have passed since the atrocity my ancestors committed against Nagali, yet my people continue to suffer for crimes which they did not commit. It has been hundreds of years. I understand that a crime of that magnitude can never be wiped away, nor should it. But I offer to make atonement in the way of restoration. I want to restore what was lost in Nagali. With time, we can honor those who have fallen.’”

  Jeren scoffed. “How could one atone for that? Bring all those dead back to life? Even with the use of science, I’m sure that isn’t possible.”

  Tehl ignored his outburst and nodded to Gav. “Please continue.”

  “‘Most of my people have never been outside Scythia, nor encountered someone of a different race. The beliefs of our ancestors have slowly faded over the years, leaving us an isolated people with a bloody, shameful history. But I believe my people deserve to experience life beyond our kingdom, so I will accept your olive branch. It is our desire to reach an understanding that will bring both our kingdoms into lasting peace and prosperity.

  “‘However, I’m a cautious man, and I can’t help but feel suspicious of the fact that this treaty coincides with the arrival of a certain female in my kingdom. She has assured me, though, of your good intentions, and I must say it is only by her counsel that I accept your offer, albeit somewhat blindly. She has also advised me that, as neither side will feel safe in each other’s territory, I should find an alternative. Therefore, I propose we do so in the middle, or, in this case, where it all began. In Nagali. There’s a palace near both our borders where we can begin negotiations. It’s prudent to let you know that Sage Blackwell is very well looked after. Our interactions have become a special part of my day and I admit, I cherish our intimacy. In fact, one would be remiss in not seeking her stimulating company whenever possible. I have, of course, offered to bring her to the Mort Wall for your retrieval but, dedicated as she is to peace, she has thus far insisted on staying.’”

  “Lies,” Lilja hissed, her eyes flashing. “My Sage would never stay there! Especially not without consulting her family!”

  Gav nodded and began again. “‘Also, I hope you’ve shown the same consideration to my woman, Blaise. It’s important to me she continues unharmed and well cared for.’” Gavriel’s hand tightened on the letter. “‘I’m sure you can relate to my concern, as, it would be likewise unpardonable if Sage were to fall ill or be hurt during her stay in our nation.’”

  “That’s a blatant threat,” Zachael snarled.

  “‘But have not a care, I’ll do my utmost to keep her safe, warm, and loved during her time here. My messengers will be on their side of the Mort Wall and are instructed to wait until they r
eceive your response. I send my best wishes and hopes that you continue on in health and prosperity. Your humble servant, Zane Ziy, Lord of Scythia.’”

  There was a beat of silence before his council erupted.

  “You can’t trust a word of that document!” Lelbiel stated.

  “He wants us to meet him in Nagali? Where the man-eaters roam unchecked? Surely, it’s a trap!” William shouted.

  “It would be a terrible place to wage war,” Zachael retorted.

  “And he presumes to threaten us! Us!” Jeren yelled.

  “Silence!” Tehl’s father commanded over the din.

  Tehl looked to his father, who’d been silent until that moment. “What say you, my king?”

  His father’s face was stern. “The warlord mentioned some valid concerns. We don’t know what’s been happening over there, thus we cannot say for a certainty that he was the one to sanction the attacks and kidnappings which have been taking place.”

  “I respectfully beg to differ, my king,” Lilja said softly.

  His father looked over to the Sirenidae. “Can you be sure that the same man is leading?”

  Her lips thinned. “No, I cannot. I lost my contact within Scythia fifteen years ago, but I believe they are the same. I can’t give you proof, only my experience and my observations.”

  The king dipped his chin. “Thank you. We need to be cautious, but we must also have our minds open.” He turned to William. “Is Nagali such a bad middle ground? From his letter, I know of the place he speaks. It’s just beyond Scythia and Aermia’s borders, at the base to the Kugami Mountains.”

  Old William’s face scrunched up as he thought. “I need to study the area to be sure.”

  “I have extensive maps of that area,” Lelbiel added. “They might need some updating, but it’s nothing the scouts couldn’t take care of.”

  “Good,” the king remarked. “Son, your thoughts?”

  Tehl stared at his father, the air around him seeming to turn to water. Safe. Warm. Loved. Drowning, he was drowning. “Did no one miss the statement of ‘safe, warm, and loved’? Or his use of the word ‘intimacy’ when he spoke of their interactions and his enjoyment of her ‘stimulating company’?” Silence descended as his voice echoed around the room. “What is he doing to my wife?”

  “We can’t know for s—” Sam began.

  Tehl stabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you placate me. You’re the spymaster and the trickster of words. Was that not blatant verbiage for sex?”

  Sam snapped his mouth shut and his eyes shuttered. “It was.”

  “Do you have any doubt of her having been abused at his hands?”

  “No, I don’t,” Lilja whispered, answering for Sam. “Even if she looks whole and beautiful when we see her, we won’t know what she’s suffering inside.”

  The very idea brought on a flood of unknown emotion. He’d always been awkward when it came to feeling so, because he didn’t know how to react; he packed his feelings away in a box. But today, the box would not close. Rage, anguish, and frustration all poured out of him. He slammed his hands against the table and let out a roar. He ignored the shocked looks on his councilors’ faces as he shoved back from the table, his chair clattering to the ground behind him. “Why do we need to accommodate this monster?”

  “Because it means Sage’s life.”

  Tehl swung his gaze to Rafe. “What?”

  “If we do not accomplish this and put on the most amazing show for the Scythian warlord, she will die.” The rebellion leader paused, staring him in the eye. “Or worse, he’ll keep her.”

  Tehl inhaled deeply, getting his anger under control. His emotions had been getting more and more out of hand the longer he went without news of Sage. He sparred and it helped; the energy he expelled calmed him for a time, but it wasn’t quite enough. He righted his chair and took a seat. One by one, he scanned the council, pausing on Zachael. “Our army?”

  “Close, but I’m afraid we still need more time.”

  He nodded and tucked that away. “Then I guess that leaves us one option.” His voice took on a dangerous edge. “We accept the good warlord’s invitation and prepare to give him hell.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sage

  She shifted painfully from one aching foot to the other. Stars above, everything hurt. At one point in the night, her legs had collapsed. The metal manacles had bitten into her wrists, and it’d taken everything she had not to break down. She didn’t, though, and she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. After several torturous hours, she’d finally found the strength to stand again.

  She tilted her head back against the stone to stare at the dark ceiling, thinking of the previous night. For hours, she’d berated herself and examined each of her conversations with the warlord. After his display last night… Sage shuddered. When she’d looked into his deranged eyes, she’d felt her soul grow cold. She’d been scared in her life before, but something about last night had been worse than anything she’d ever experienced. What kind of monster’s lair had she wandered into? Even now, she didn’t know, and there was a part of her that still hoped Zane would walk in nursing a hangover. She hoped he wasn’t truly evil.

  She banged her head against the wall at the last thought. That part of her was foolish but insistent, and she didn’t quite understand it. It was like she wanted him to be… What did she want him to be? Her friend? A good person? In the light of day, Sage could see it for what it was. It was a longing. She longed for safety, for home, for her family, for her friends, and for Tehl, but in lieu of those things, it seemed her mind sought those things in Zane. Something was wrong with her.

  The door slammed open and cracked against the stone wall. She swallowed hard when the warlord sauntered in and smiled boyishly. He moved toward her, her customary breakfast in his hands.

  “Good morning, wild one. I hope you slept well.”

  Inwardly, she quelled. Everything was normal about him—well, the normal she’d come to know up until very recently. Gone was the hard, imbalanced, and calculating man from last night. However, neither did he rush to her side with apologies, nor help her down from the wall. That in and of itself told her something. Was this some sort of game to him? Or was he truly not well in the mind?

  He placed her food on the nightstand and then pinched a piece of bread from the loaf, holding it out to her. “Are you hungry, Sage?”

  She eyed the proffered food skeptically. “Is it poisoned?”

  His deep chuckle washed over her, and she dared to peek at him. What she saw made her gasp. He was smiling at her with love and adoration. What in the world? Was he normal again?

  He popped the piece of bread into his mouth, never losing eye contact, and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. After he’d swallowed, he asked, “Will you eat now?”

  “Will you unchain me?” she ventured.

  “Not right now. As much as it pains me to have something so wild and exotic chained like a slave, it’s really in your best interest. You’ll have to stay this way for your protection.” He actually had the audacity to look hurt by it, as if he was not in control of the situation.

  “In what world is this protection?”

  Rather than respond, the warlord pinched off another piece of bread and placed it at her lips. Sage took the morsel from his fingers and chewed slowly, confused by the brilliant smile he gave her. Had the kingdom been turned on its head? Everything felt off-kilter.

  He held the broth to his lips and sipped, then offered it to her. She placed her lips on the cup and slurped, watching him over the rim. What was his game?

  A hand brushed her collarbone and then her chest. Sage sputtered and jerked back, knocking the broth from his hand. It crashed to the floor and stillness filled the room, as if awaiting violence.

  Sage coughed and glared at the warlord through watering eyes. His reaction, though, wasn’t what she’d anticipated. Instead of responding angrily, he let loose a heavy sigh,
gathering the broken pieces of clay into his hand.

  “One day, Sage, you won’t fear me as you do now. You’ll accept my kindness without question, and my touch without shuddering. This, I vow.”

  Not in this life. But she kept her thoughts to herself, staring at the broth that had soaked her robe, rendering the thin fabric translucent. Color heated her cheeks when she realized the fabric was translucent. The warlord stood and stilled as he, too, seemed to notice. Her breath froze in her lungs when he moved closer.

  “Goddess,” he whispered. “Lead, and I will follow.” He looked into her face and touched one finger to her blush. “Do not be ashamed of such beauty. It’s a gift many covet, and yours is natural. That’s rare. It’s a treasure.”

  “One that is mine,” she whispered.

  He leaned closer, his words whispering over her skin. “One that is mine. This time it will be my choice.”

  She went rigid at his statement. “You’re mistaken…or just deranged.” She inwardly winced. She needed to tread carefully. If she needled him too much, there could be a repeat of the night before.

  He took a step back and studied her, amusement touching his face. “I like this side of you, Sage. The warrior queen I met in my throne room all those weeks ago is starting to peek out again.”

  “My lord?” A warrior stepped into the doorway with a bow.

  “Yes?” Zane answered, glancing over his shoulder.

  “We have what you requested.”

  “Ah, yes!” The warlord turned back to her and clapped his hands. “I’ve arranged a gift for you. Bring her in.”

  A warrior swung into the room, toting someone Sage had never dreamt she could see again. “Jas?” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

  Jasmine stared at her and lunged forward. “Sage!”

  The male holding her jerked her back. “Do not speak in the warlord’s presence unless asked. And bow to your betters.” He tossed Jasmine to the ground. She landed on her hands and knees. That had to be painful, but her friend didn’t utter a sound of complaint as she knelt before the warlord.