Rebel's Blade (The Aermian Feuds Book 1)

by Frost Kay

  Tehl took that in stride. “She will fight. It seems it’s a favorite pastime for her.” Tehl looked back to the sleeping forms. “Please keep Sam or Gavriel informed of her progress.”

  “As you wish.” Jacob bowed.

  Leaving her this time was just as difficult as it had been the previous time; he wouldn’t visit her again. Sam would have to be the one who discovered her secrets. She called out for her papa, saying that she loved him. Under the influence of the truth serum she had shared a different story.

  Secrets. It seemed she had many. Tehl hoped that she could start talking and help them before it was too late.

  Twenty

  SAGE

  Herbs had teased her nose before she was fully awake. Now, clean white walls glared at her, and Sage squinted, eyes watering as she tried to makes sense of her surroundings. A roaring fire was going next to the cot upon which she was lying, and an empty rocking chair sat nearby.

  Memories assaulted her.

  Burning.

  Drowning.

  A gruff voice.

  She needed to stop passing out.

  Sage drew in a sharp breath, causing her lungs to seize. She gasped, and a burst of harsh rattling coughs racked her body. Each cough sent pain pulsing through her, making her wish she could sink back into oblivion. Slight pressure shifted on her abdomen, startling her. Sage lifted her head, squinting at the arm slung over her waist, a very female arm. Her gaze followed the petite arm to the young woman plastered to her side. Puzzled, she admired the heavy golden braid draped across her arm, tracing it back to its owner. Surprised blue eyes stared back at Sage.

  “Who in the hell are you?” Sage blurted. “And why are you in my bed?”

  The last thing she remembered was someone taking her cuffs off before darkness had swallowed her. The blonde shifted and Sage was suddenly aware of how closely they were tangled together. A blush crept up her neck and onto her cheeks. The woman laid a hand on her forehead and, if Sage hadn’t been so tired, she would have jerked from her touch despite the fact it was impersonal.

  “Ah. Your fever broke in the night.” Relief was clear in the young woman’s voice. “To answer your other question, I’m Mira.”

  Sage pursed her lips, squinting at the girl. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re clinging to me like a lover.”

  Mira scooted back, smiling at her, displaying not a shred of embarrassment. She waved a hand, indicating their surroundings. “This is the infirmary; you were brought to us delirious with fever. We used an ice bath several times to drop your fever, but by the time your fever dropped a few degrees you were shaking uncontrollably. We covered you and placed you next to the fire, but it wasn’t enough.” Mira shrugged. “The only other option was for me to crawl into bed with you in order for you to benefit from my body heat.”

  Sage appreciated that she kept her explanation succinct and clinical, but she still had so many questions. First, though, she took stock of the woman next to her; it was obvious from her posture and the dark rings under her eyes that she’d hardly slept. The fact that she had been caring for Sage in spite of this meant she owed this woman a great debt of gratitude.

  “Thank you.” Sage patted Mira’s hand. “I’m sure I don’t know everything you’ve done for me, but, from the circles under your eyes, I know it couldn’t have been easy. I’m grateful to you.” Mira smiled back at her, accepting her thanks with a quick dip of her chin.

  Sage scanned the room, noting any exits and various things she might use as weapons should the need arise. A fire poker lay within a few feet of her. Excellent. She dropped her gaze to her hands, playing with a loose blanket thread to feign nonchalance. “How did I end up here?” Sage peered up through her lashes at the young woman.

  Mira’s lips parted but then she hesitated, as if searching for the right words. It was interesting that she felt the need to censor her explanation. What didn’t she want Sage to know? The young healer was most likely a wealth of information, so she’d need to be nice and put the woman at ease. She gave Mira a sheepish smile and noted the girl’s posture relax. Perfect.

  “Sorry for all the questions, I am just so confused.”

  She spoke the truth. It baffled her that she’d been placed here, in this warm room, rather than her frigid and dingy cell. So far, they had drugged, starved, and tortured her. Why bring her to an infirmary then? Suddenly, it hit her. It was her information they were after, information she couldn’t provide if she was dead.

  Sage winced and rubbed her temples as a throbbing pain started behind her eyes. She needed to put those somewhat depressing thoughts aside and focus on what was now her top priority: recovery.

  She’d never get out of here alive in this condition.

  A harsh and rattling coughing fit seized Sage. Immediately, Mira hopped up, fetching her a glass of water. The healer cradled her head and brought the cup to Sage’s cracked lips, carefully pouring the soothing liquid down her parched throat. Sage grumbled an incoherent complaint when, all too quickly, Mira pulled it away.

  “If I give you any more you might retch,” Mira explained. “You need that to stay in your stomach.”

  The young healer turned and placed the glass on the bedside desk before speaking. “Though accompanied by his cousin and brother, it was the crown prince himself who carried you up here to be treated. That was three days ago.”

  The crown prince’s dirty hands were on her? She recoiled at the thought. She was also concerned; that kind of attention was dangerous. What had she done to warrant it? She needed to be out of here sooner rather than later. After wiping any hint of her thoughts from her face, she faced Mira and inquired, “How long will I be here?” Hopefully she’d be allowed to stay in the infirmary until her escape. Just the thought of moving had her aching.

  Slipping a simple woolen gown over her shift, Mira spoke, “Until you’re healed enough so we can safely move you to another room.”

  “Another room?” Sage probed.

  A male voice spoke from behind, startling her. “Indeed, young Ruby. Once you’re more stable, we can move you to a more comfortable space for the duration of your recovery.” An older man stood close to where she was sitting, grinning down at her. “Orders from the crown prince himself.”

  It took everything inside her not to recoil at his words. Why would the crown prince want her to be comfortable? She studied the older man as he came closer, placing two fingers on the inside of her wrist. His hands were calloused but gentle. Like many of his profession, he seemed a kind sort of person. Nevertheless, she had to fight the impulse to yank back her arm and move away. He released her hand and leaned over her body, peering into her eyes, and this time Sage shrunk back, snapping, “Does no one in this infirmary understand the concept of personal space?” She swallowed, trying to mask her unease with irritation.

  Sympathy shone in his eyes as he straightened. “Healers are curious by nature. We dedicate our lives to discovering better ways to mend and heal—and doing that means getting close and personal. Had the lovely Mira here not been willing to invade your ‘personal space’, I don’t believe you would be with us now.”

  Sage cringed at how ungrateful that sounded. She offered him a quick smile and rushed to explain. “I meant no offense and deeply appreciate what you both have done for me. I was a bit disoriented and a little surprised at finding myself in a bed, let alone with another person sharing it. And then to have a man touch me who I don’t know. It’s…off-putting.”

  He bobbed his head in understanding. “I can’t imagine what you are going through my dear. The state you were brought in…” He trailed off, swallowing. “It was inhuman. Mira and I did our best to care for you. We were at your side every moment. You were never left alone.” The kindness in his gaze almost undid her. He understood her panic at being left unprotected, especially after what she’d suffered. “Also, my name is Jacob.” He gave a courtly bow and popped up, quite spry for someone his age.

  Sage forced a wobbly smil
e on her face and lifted her shaky hand in the air for him to take it. “My name is Ruby. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” A flash of disappointment flicked across his face but it was gone before she could even be sure she’d seen it. He was all smiles as he kissed the back of her hand like a gentleman.

  “Quite the manners, my lady,” the Healer remarked.

  She tugged her hand from his and examined her nails. “I figured it was only fitting after that gracious bow. And I am no lady, only a girl from the streets,” Sage wheezed, already short of breath. It felt like someone had put a wet cloth over her mouth and was forcing her to breathe through it. She began hacking anew, squeezing her eyes shut as tears leaked down her cheeks from the force of coughing.

  “Take a deep breath my girl, it will help,” Jacob’s low voice coaxed. The smell of lavender, eucalyptus, and mint saturated the surrounding air. It took several tries for her to take a deep breath, and eventually her lungs loosened allowing her to breathe. She slit her teary eyes and looked up at the tight-lipped Jacob.

  “Am I going to die?” she asked bluntly, her heart pounding weakly. She was already exhausted.

  The Healer’s face was severe as he stared down at her. “I won’t pretend that your situation is not serious, but as I told you before, you’ll not die under my care.”

  His words did elicit a faint echo of familiarity, but she couldn’t quite place it. Her eyelids drooped, fatigue grasping her in its claws. “How is it possible that I am so tired? Mira told me I have been sleeping for days.”

  He slumped into the sturdy rocking chair next to her cot. “Your body is trying to heal itself. Sleep is a very good thing, and you’ll probably be doing a lot of it this next week. Close your eyes, Ruby. Mira and I will watch over you.”

  The idea of them watching her as she slept discomfited her, and apprehension crept over her. She’d be so vulnerable. Sage tried to reel in her thoughts and looked between the two healers. She sensed nothing dangerous. For three days, these two had diligently cared for her, and she’d come to no harm at their hands. As much as she hated turning her back on the older man, she wanted to face the door. That way she could see anyone who tried to sneak up on her. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. She gave Mira a sleepy smile and, after snuggling into the blankets, drifted off.

  Twenty-One

  SAGE

  Sage’s eyes flew open. Something had awoken her. As the hair on her neck rose, she realized something about her surroundings was different. Firelight writhed with the shadows on the walls in a twisted dance of black and yellow. She looked around and made out the crown of Mira’s blond head peeking out of a blanket on the cot next to hers, snoring lightly. Exhaling, Sage tried to calm herself. Nothing was amiss; it had only been a bad dream. She shuddered, forcing the unpleasant images from her mind. She turned and faced the fire, hoping it would drive the chills away. Her eyes drifted to the Healer sitting in the chair, and her heart leapt to her throat.

  It wasn’t Jacob in the chair.

  For a moment, she was paralyzed, but then she was scrambling backward violently, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the strange man. Her legs caught in the blankets, and she stumbled to the floor, coughing as she fell.

  The intruder rushed toward her, and a scream caught in her throat as she fought to free herself from the web of bedding. She had to get away! Panicking, Sage pulled herself across the floor, nails clawing at the stone. Large hands gripped her waist, and she cried out; she couldn’t go through this again. He needed to stop touching her. Now. Sage raked her hands up his arms and pinched with all her might, drawing blood. “Someone help me!” she yelled.

  Both guards crashed through the door, but her heart sank when they hesitated. They weren’t going to help her. Sage’s stomach soured; she was going to be sick.

  “Vicious little wench! I’m only trying to help,” his voice rumbled against her back. “Calm down, it’s Sam.”

  She didn’t care who he was, she continued resisting him with all she had. He cursed. An ear-piercing shriek passed her lips as he hauled her up from the floor. He dropped her on the cot, and she stilled, thankful at least that his hands were no longer on her. She opened her eyes and saw it was the young prince standing before her, watching her intently.

  Before she knew what she was doing, her fist smashed into his face. His head snapped to the side, and he worked his jaw. Terror filled her, and she was rooted to the spot. What would he do? He swung around, his dark blue eyes meeting hers. Her skin crawled at his nearness so she did the first thing that came to mind: she coughed into his face.

  Instantly, he recoiled, his face twisted in disgust. Her victory was short lived though as another vicious coughing bout seized her. A dainty hand appeared before her nose with a a bottle of scented oil.

  “Deep breaths, Ruby, you need to take deep breaths. No need to fear. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Mira spoke in a calm and encouraging tone, rubbing a soothing hand between her shoulder blades.

  Sage did what she was told, never taking her eyes from the enemy. Despite her fear, Mira’s comment struck her as funny. What could a petite little woman accomplish against the much larger man? If she had to guess, she’d say he was nearly the same height as his brother, over six feet. Between coughs, she managed a sharp laugh. “Mira.” Wheeze. “He could do whatever he wanted.” Sage looked over her shoulder at the sweet healer and patted her shoulder. “I appreciate the thought, though.”

  Sage returned her gaze to the dangerous man in their presence. Samuel Ramses. A man of many titles; Prince Samuel. Commander Samuel. And then the label known only by a few: Spymaster Samuel.

  It seemed he was also her jailor, tormentor, and, very likely, the harbinger of her death.

  His extended proximity still perturbed her. Since their first encounter he’d not shown a single genuine emotion. She suspected he was all façade. Even now, he sat casually, but his eyes told a different story. They held a measure of wariness. The spymaster stared back at her, taking in her assessment of him. Hatred rolled through her, bleeding onto her face. “You here for round two?”

  A little glimmer of emotion flashed in his eyes, but disappeared just a quickly. “No.” He dropped his eyes to the fire next to him.

  “Maybe more drugs this time?” Sage snarled. She shouldn’t be provoking him, but she couldn’t help it. She hated being cornered.

  His jaw clenched as he whipped his head her way. “No, I have no intention of drugging you, Ruby. I also have no intention of harming you.”

  She barked out a laugh. She was tired, cranky, and fed up with being afraid. “‘Intention’ is an interesting word, is it not? Everyone has good intentions until they don’t. So forgive me if I don’t put stock in anything that comes out of your lying trap,” she spat. Mira gasped at her offensive words.

  Sage was done with the situation. What game was he playing? Would he hurt Mira too? She had no doubt that all the men of this place had been born into privilege—spoiled and able to do and take whatever they pleased. Such men had no business wielding power.

  “Ruby. You must believe me when I tell you that neither my brother nor myself sanctioned what happened to you.”

  She allowed her disbelief to show on her face. Was he here to cast off the blame from his family? Why bother? They must want her cooperation badly, she thought.

  Furious, her anxiety temporarily evaporated. “How dare you come in here to shirk the blame. You,” she spat, pointing a shaking finger at him, “are a liar and a coward.” Mira squeezed her shoulder, as if to quiet her, but there was no stopping her now. If she would die, she wasn’t going quietly. “If that was the truth, it was still your men. You are the one who drugged me so I couldn’t protect myself from…” Her voice broke. Tears flooded her eyes. Sage glared through the watery glaze. “You will never be absolved of your crimes.”

  Compassion filled his face.

  Disbelief rolled through her—like she would believe he felt remor
se over his actions. His emotions weren’t genuine, just another mask to get what he wanted. The spymaster reached out to her, and she jerked back, bumping into Mira. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed, her lungs tightened painfully as she tried to catch her breath.

  “I think it would be best if you left, my prince.” Mira stated, not a suggestion but a command.

  “I won’t leave. I have orders to watch over Ruby and make sure she is protected.”

  Sage’s mind spun. “Protection? Where was your protection when, when…” She stumbled for the right word. “When they stripped me down and used me for their amusement?” she rasped, her face hardening. “Oh, that’s right, I needed protection from you. So forgive me if I won’t count on your protection. None of this is for my protection but to make sure your asset doesn’t escape your clutches.”

  The spymaster’s face sharpened, and his eyes glistened with anger. “What do you mean they used you for their own amusement?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

  She shivered at his dark tone. Sage knew where his mind had gone with that question. “A man does not have to force himself on a woman to hurt her. Words can cause as much damage as blades and fists. To my knowledge—” Sage choked on the words, not able to force them from her throat. She swallowed and donned her blank mask, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Sage forced herself to look at the young healer for confirmation.

  Mira’s pale face pinched, and she jerked her head once.

  “You don’t have that on your conscience…” Sage sneered and turned back at the commander. Pity. Pity was written all over his face. Panic clawed her chest as his blues eyes delved into her, like he saw every inch of pain swirling just beneath her surface, threatening to break through. Sage fisted her hands in her lap, her broken nails digging into her palms. She would not weep in front of him.

  “I am so sorry.”

  Her dam broke.