Quick, hard, and to the point.
And when Amarande finished, her eyes were full of pleading in their turquoise depths—enough to pull a man under. “Please, for your safety and ours, don’t let him attend the conclave. Give him a rundown of information later, if you must, but don’t let him learn all our secrets unfiltered. It’ll only be easier for him to stab you in the back if he’s by your side.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Amarande’s throat constricted as she accepted this—she wanted full agreement, not consideration, but she did not fight him. She let him choose, as much as it pained her. It was no small thing, and something he appreciated.
Luca swept a lock of hair over her ear. “How is Ferdinand?”
In answer, Amarande sank into the chair she’d been in when he’d arrived—one that had been King Sendoa’s and was as sturdy and solid as the man himself. He lugged his chair around the table, so that they could be side by side.
Amarande tucked her knees tightly to her chest as she’d done the night before in Luca’s tent. Perhaps as she always did when unmoored—it was still an uncommon occurance in Luca’s purview. Her green-blue gaze cast upon the flames roaring within a brazier atthe center of the room. With her hair tumbling about her shoulders and her chin rested upon the mound of her knees, she appeared every bit a lion with a mane—firelit and fierce despite the pall of sorrow that had hung over her in the wake of Koldo’s death.
“Busying himself with cleanup and Osana—she was stabbed in the back during the battle. He held her down as she received stitches. Seems as if that’s both a metaphor and a reminder.”
Her eyes flashed to his, the subject of Tala right back there in the open.
After a moment, Luca nodded. “I wouldn’t say we were stabbed in the back as much as we were sitting ducks, just as Koldo warned—as you worried.” Luca reached out, pressed his palm into one of the forearms wound around her legs. “And you? How are you doing? With Koldo?”
The general was Amarande’s second mother—there was no other way to describe it. She was the woman who raised her, who she aspired to be in many ways. Luca admired Koldo and appreciated her guidance and outright pity in helping him learn to better fight Amarande, but in truth they had spent more time together over the last two weeks than in the whole of his time at the Itspi.
“She is—was—very much like my father. I just always expected her to survive. To return alive, unharmed. To just be there.” That shroud lifted and her emotions broke through with no one to witness them but him. Tears glistened in the queen’s eyes as they shifted away from the fire and to Luca’s face. “And now she’s not.”
Her lower lip wobbled, color rising in her cheeks. Amarande was never one to cry, and yet here, in the silence and privacy, the heaviness of the day was suddenly written all over her face. Luca’s hand slid down that arm and took her hand in his, their fingers wound together and palms kissing.
“I suppose I should’ve known it was going to end that way. She wanted to keep us safe, and the best way to do that was to take down Geneva. I can’t imagine what she thought when she saw Geneva facing down Ferdinand like that.” Amarande batted at her face with her free hand, fingers smudging tears into wet wells beneath her eyes. “She must have thought she might lose him twice.”
Luca nodded. And, surprisingly, Amarande broke into the tiniest of grins. “That’s how I felt, you know? When I saw you reveal yourselfin the Warlord’s camp. I was in my cage, heart pounding, sure I was going to watch you die a second time—for real.”
Luca’s thumb dabbed at the wetness beneath her eyes and cupped her face. He was leaning forward so far that his knees knocked her chair and the tips of her boots that hung over the seat edge.
“I would’ve warned you both times if I could have.”
“I will take younotdying over you dying for real. You are forgiven simply by proving my worst fears wrong.”
He blew out a relieved laugh. “I am lucky for that mercy.”
Rather than laugh, Amarande clutched at the hand that cupped her face, and met his surprise with new tears welling in her eyes. Her cheeks were hot, her eyes red, her mouth misshapen into something between a laugh and a cry.
“Stay here tonight, please. Don’t sneak off after I’m asleep. I don’t think I can wake up without you again.”
As she had that morning. In the moments before the attack. Before he’d put himself right in the line of fire before another Warlord. Before they’d won the battle and she’d lost Koldo.
When Luca looked at Amarande, he couldn’t hear the barbs lobbed at him by his people. Their crude insinuations, their concerns over where he lay his head, the political ramifications. Instead, all he could hear was the raw emotion of her voice—a voice he would always, always heed.
Always, Princess.
Always, my queen.
Always, Ama.
“Yes, I’ll stay with you. I’ll always stay with you.”
CHAPTER 26
AMARANDEawoke to Luca’s hand in hers and a clear dawn.
No attackers on the horizon. No chaos. Just the scent of cook fires, the whistle of coffee kettles, and the low rumble of people wresting themselves from much-needed slumber.
