Crown's Shield: The Aermian Feuds: Book Two

by Frost Kay

  “Papa.”

  Both adoration and relief were evident on his face as he stood, opening his arms wide and she ran straight to him. He wrapped her in his warm arms, and, immediately, she felt both comforted and safe. Sage grinned against his tunic when she realized that, as she wrapped her own arms round him, his waist seemed to be a bit thicker.

  “Sage,” his warm voice curled around her. “I am so happy to have you home, love.”

  Sage couldn’t believe the difference in her father. She lifted her head, taking in his altered appearance carefully. His face now had a healthy glow to it, and his cheeks were no longer sharp and gaunt but rounded. Even his breathing seemed less labored.

  “Are you well, Papa?”

  He cupped her cheek and kissed her on the forehead. “Still a worrier, I see. But yes, love, I am well.”

  Sage squeezed him once more before throwing her arms round the Healer. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, a wealth of emotion in those two little words.

  He tweaked her nose, his bronze eyes twinkling. “All in a day’s work. Think nothing of it.” Jacob released her and turned to her father, clasping his hand. “Keep taking the tonic I gave you, and I will visit again in a week.”

  Jacob retrieved his bag and winked at her before exiting the room. Sage watched the curtain ripple in the wake of Jacob’s departure. There was no way to express the depth of her gratitude to the Healer. She hadn’t seen her Papa in a month, and it was like looking at a different man. A tiny voice in her head whispered that she was lucky to have been asked to be the liaison for this peace treaty and that here was the silver lining to her storm. Her papa was healing and that made every sacrifice well worth it.

  “You’re staring at that curtain awfully hard. I assure you it is the same as it has always been.”

  His poor joke pulled a reluctant smile out of her. She shrugged off her cloak and wiped her forehead, luxuriating in the forge’s familiar warmth.

  “You are looking well, Papa, and I’m glad of it.”

  His chest puffed up, preening, his reaction so typically male that she had to bite back another smile.

  “The tonics from Jacob have done their job.”

  “Tonics?” she asked, curious.

  Colm’s face soured. “Disgusting liquid. But your mum threatened right away to pour them down my gullet if I didn’t take them so here I am.” He widened his eyes. “She’s intimidating when she wants to be.”

  “Imagine having her as your mum.”

  “Imagine having her as your wife,” he shot back.

  They both sniggered and plopped down in a seat. Sage plucked a blade from the stack and began cleaning it out of habit. She had so many things on the tip of her tongue, but each time she opened her mouth they seemed stuck there. Her papa’s gaze rested on her but he stayed silent, cleaning blades at her side, waiting for her to speak. They didn’t speak for some time, each content to simply spend time together doing the same thing. What was she going to say to him, anyway? That she was sorry for making such a big mistake that tore her from their family? That she couldn’t fathom how she would survive the years to come? That the thought of overseeing the palace’s day-to-day affairs made her want to jump off a cliff? Where did she even begin?

  Her papa’s large hand closed over hers, pausing her vigorous scrubbing on a hilt. He uncurled her clenched fingers and took the rag from her. Sage lifted her head and met her papa’s gaze, hoping her every emotion wasn’t written all over her face.

  “What is on your mind, my little shadow?”

  She could feel her eyes stinging so she turned away, hoping to stay the flood of tears threatening to spill over. Her mind was a muddle of guilt and anxiety, so many thoughts of ‘what if’ when it came to both her future and her past. It was enough to drown her, but there was no use crying over something she couldn’t change. The course of her life had been set and she needed to just accept it.

  “Love, you need to speak to me. I can’t read your mind. What’s going on?”

  “Why haven’t you visited me?” she twisted toward him, surprised by her own question. “Mum has visited every day, even Seb and Zeke, but not you. Why? Are you—” She swallowed. “Are you ashamed of me?”

  “No,” he gasped and scooted next to her, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to come and visit, but I know you don’t need me there to help you pick out things for the wedding. I also knew you would need to escape all of that at some point and the forge has always been the place for you to do so. Thus, I have waited for you to come here. Now tell me what’s on your mind, love. I am listening, and it’s obvious you need to get it out.”

  Sage stared at his dear face, the warmth in his eyes encouraging her to bare her soul, so she did. “I don’t know if I can do it, Papa. I could feel confident keeping a small house but not a kingdom. I never wanted to be a lady, and yet that’s the role I’ll be forced to play for the rest of my life. When I think of spending my whole life in that palace it’s like I can’t breathe. I want to just run away and never look back.”

  He placed a hand over hers. “Your mum, brothers, and I will pack up right now and flee with you if that’s what you need. Just say the word and it will be done. We want to see you happy.”

  Sage clutched his hand tighter “I know, Papa, but how could I do such a thing when so many would suffer?”

  Colm caressed her face. “You have grown into a wonderful woman, Sage, and your heart is filled with more compassion and love than most people’s. You have a selfless heart, and I’m proud of you for it.”

  Sage pressed her face into his hand as if she could soak up his love through her pores. But his words weren’t enough to erase the guilt. Sage wasn’t selfless, for her accepting the assignment had been with ulterior motives. Primarily, it had been to secure a healer for her father. If she was truly selfless, she would have done anything to help the people, healer or not, and done so without the anger and resentment currently festering inside her.

  “He came to see me.”

  “Rafe?” It was painful to even speak his name.

  “No, your betrothed.”

  She stared at him blankly. The crown prince had done what? “I don’t think I heard you right, Papa.”

  “Your heard me right.”

  A dull ringing filled ears. Betrothed. Her soon-to-be husband had visited her home. How dare he come here, what audacity! She tried to control the rage rising up in her, suppressing it as best she could. “Oh?” she asked mildly, her voice wavering just a bit.

  Her papa eyed her expression and began cleaning another blade. “He offered us a place in the palace and to buy our home.”

  Sage was sure her face was an alarming shade of red. She and Tehl had already spoken on this subject and she thought they had already agreed on a solution. “I assume you declined?”

  “I did. The forge has been in our family for generations.”

  “How did he react to that?”

  “He offered me a compromise.”

  “Which was?” Sage asked through clenched teeth.

  “He is looking to expand the knowledge of his palace apprentices. The crown prince wants me to train some of them. I agreed.” Colm paused his cleaning. “He also left a generous amount of gold for your acquiesce toll.”

  Acquiesce toll, what a joke. She hadn’t acquiesced to anything. The crown prince had well and truly bought her like horseflesh. “Did I fetch a good price at least?” she asked sarcastically.

  Her papa snorted. “Your brothers and I had to stash gold in the walls and bury some behind the forge. We have more than we could ever spend in a lifetime.” He met her angry eyes. “But you’re worth far more than any treasure. No matter how much he left, it would never equal you. Sage, you are precious.”

  His loving statement soothed and pierced her heart. Even if the only people who valued her for just herself were her family, she could live with that. Many didn’t have a loving family. Sage counted herself lucky to
have the overwhelming love and support that she did.

  “He is nothing like Sam.”

  She smirked. That was the damn truth.

  “He is very serious. He assured me you would be well looked after and want for nothing.”

  Sage’s smile slipped. Materially, she would want nothing, but the one thing she longed for would be out of her grasp forever: her freedom to do as she chose. She forced her lips into a weak smile, just for her papa. She didn’t want him worrying. “He will keep his word.”

  “He will, or he will have your brothers and myself to deal with.” Colm chuckled darkly. “I don’t care who he is. No one hurts my daughter and gets away with it.”

  Sage didn’t doubt it for a moment. Her papa would go to the ends of the earth to care for his family. Soon she would be part of a new family, though. She stiffened as a thought occurred to her. She would no longer be a Blackwell, but a Ramses, and, for some reason, that angered her. Not only was she going to be assimilated into a new life and family, but she would lose her name too. Sage snatched up a scythe and polished it like she could scrub away all the hurt, anger, and confusion fighting inside her.

  She and her father worked in silence until there were no more pieces to polish. Sage stared at the blade in her hand, her reflection distorted in its uneven surface. It felt poetic as it was also a fitting description of her inner self: indistinguishable, distorted, ruined. Sage thrust the blade onto a bed of velvet and quickly stood, stalking to the window. The lush green forest beckoned to her, immense trees standing like soldiers at its border, and she was filled with a longing to visit her meadow. The wind whistled a melancholy melody that spoke to her battered soul. Sage felt her father’s eyes on her but she didn’t turn. She just soaked up the picturesque scene before her. Her eyes sketched every limb as she tried to imprint each in her mind for she had no idea when she could next visit.

  She frowned at the trees when yet another thought occurred to her. For anyone desiring to do so, it would be extremely easy to sneak through the forest to the back of her family’s home. The Mort Wall may be miles away but that didn’t mean it wasn’t within the Scythians’ power to make it this far. “Please lock your doors and windows every night, Papa, and never leave Mum alone washing clothes in the back.” She tore her eyes from her forest to her father.

  Alarm was evident on his face. “It is so dangerous?”

  She turned to lean against the window frame. “It may not be now, but it is only a matter of time. Be vigilant.”

  “Is there nothing you can tell me?”

  Sage debated a moment before answering. “People have disappeared, and it has been confirmed that the Scythians are sneaking over the Mort Wall and that, for some reason, they’re taking them captive.”

  “My God,” her father whispered. “Do you know what’s become of them?”

  “We have no idea, but I can only imagine the worst.” Looking back outside she grimaced, finally realizing the hour. Gavriel would skin her alive for being late to their training, and he would no doubt lock her up if he knew she’d slipped out for the day.

  Her father eyed the fading daylight and stood from his stool. “It’s best you be getting back, love. I am sure you are being missed by now.”

  Sage scoffed, for, in her mind, no one truly missed her. They were just worried about what it would mean if she didn’t marry the crown prince. She rushed into her papa’s arms, once again surprised at how much stronger he was since the last time she had seen him. “I love you Papa, so much.”

  “I love you, too.” His arms tightened, crushing her against his chest. “I am always here if you need me.”

  She would miss seeing his twinkling green eyes every day. He always made time for her, treating her with patience and kindness. In her mind, there was no better man.

  She inhaled the familiar smoky scent of her father one last time and squeezed her eyes shut to keep more tears from falling. All she had to do was make it out of the forge. He kissed the crown of her head and released her. She stifled a sob when she saw his eyes were damp too.

  He cupped her cheeks and smiled. “You are my only daughter, and I don’t want to give you up. When you came into this world, you were the most breathtaking baby I ever beheld. I spoke to you, and you turned those big green eyes and looked right at me. At that moment, I was lost to you, I knew you would make my life challenging, but in the best way. I’ve loved raising you and watching you grow up into a fine woman.” He stared into her eyes solemnly. “I know this was not your choice, I want a different future for you from the one you’ve ended up with.” He sucked in a deep breath like he was fortifying himself. “But you will make a fine ruler.” A smile. “A warrior queen. You are exactly what Aermia needs right now so never doubt yourself. You have much to offer, don’t forget that.”

  She merely nodded, lips trembling. When she spoke, she could not prevent her voice from cracking with emotion. “Okay, Papa.” Sage lifted herself onto her tiptoes and kissed his whiskered cheek. “Love you.” She stepped back and strode toward the door.

  “I will see you in two days, love.”

  Her stomach dropped at the reminder.

  She peeked over her shoulder with a wobbly smile. “I will be the one in green.”

  Sage slipped through the curtain and out of the forge, and a cool breeze chilled her warm body. She shivered and set a brisk pace toward the palace as the sun sank below the horizon.

  After a time, she halted in her tracks and just let people flow around her. She was already late, someone would have missed her by now, so it mattered little if she was even later. She might as well enjoy her evening. Enticing music drifted from an alehouse across the lane, so Sage stepped from the throng of people into the dim parlor. She scoped the area and moved to an empty table in the corner. When she gestured to the barkeep, a serving wench came quickly over and slapped a mug of warm ale in front of her. Sage flipped her a coin and lifted the tasty brew to her lips. She leaned against the wall, watching the room.

  The three-person band in the corner attracted all attention. The music caressed her, soft and seductive, begging her to move with it. Sage gestured to the serving wench for another ale when she’d emptied hers. The place continued to fill with people, each seeking some sort of solace or escape, just like she was. Torches were lit, casting soft light across the room.

  Sage brushed off any attempts of conversation by interested men, ignoring the lingering looks she received. She snorted. It was funny that she was a betrothed woman now, not that you would know. She had no cuffs or rings to signify she was already taken. Chuckling, she took a swig of her drink when a large man suddenly plopped down across from her, his hood up.

  “Seat’s taken,” she said gruffly. He didn’t move though. She scowled at him and fingered the blade at her thigh. “I am not interested.”

  “Oh, but I am so interested in you and what exactly it is you’re doing.” As he said this, he tipped back his hood, revealing golden curls and sapphire eyes.

  The damn spymaster had found her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam

  He raised a brow, waiting for her answer.

  Sage rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, watching him over the edge of her mug. “I would think it was obvious.”

  He placed his elbows on the sticky table, squinting at her green eyes. Her pupils were a little larger than normal. He cast a disgusted look around, noting each of the exits just in case. How long had she been in the alehouse? “Are you drunk?”

  She glowered at him. “No, that would be dangerous and stupid.”

  He scoffed. She sat in an alehouse, surrounded by men, many of whom were no doubt criminals, and most of them were eyeing her like they each wanted a bite of her. Not that he could blame them. She certainly was beautiful and she shone brightly in contrast with the tarnished wenches whose breasts were tastelessly falling out of their dresses.

  “So is drinking alone when you are the target of so many enemies.” His lips
thinned in disapproval. “Also, leaving the palace without telling anyone.”

  Sage grinned at him and lifted her leg onto the bench, placing her half-full mug on her elevated knee. She tossed her brown hair, looking haughty. “Am I supposed to ask for permission? Am I still the Crown’s prisoner?”

  Sam would never forget how she looked battered and broken in that cell. He’d make sure that never happened to her or anyone ever again who was under their care.

  Her grin grew brittle at his silence. “That didn’t work out so well for me before. Mark my words, I will never again be held against my will.”

  She took another sip, her eyes darting over his shoulder. Sage scowled at someone, presumably the oaf who had been ogling her since he walked in. Sam cleared his throat, and her gaze returned to his face.

  “You are no one’s prisoner.”

  She sniggered behind her hand. “Mmmhmmm…”

  Sage was acting childish. In the time he’d known her, Sam had never experienced this blasé attitude from her, and it irked him. He’d been searching for quite some time, praying no one had stolen her. In the two weeks she’d been at the palace there had already been three attempts on her life which, thankfully, the elite foiled. Sage was being careless with her life and the future of Aermia.

  “Did you ever stop to think of the worry you would cause by leaving?”

  She let out a charming laugh, causing more than one pair of male eyes to turn her way and linger—not that she appeared to notice. Sam gritted his teeth, wishing she could be more inconspicuous. Sage drained the rest of her drink and slammed the empty mug on the table. “Worry for the Crown, I am sure.”

  His anger lifted a notch. He snapped his hand out and grabbed her wrist, pulling gently, but firmly, so she leaned over the table. Sam touched her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Her careless smile melted and a knowing light entered her eyes that made him uncomfortable.