Page 110 of Queen of War and Ruin

“It’s okay,” Petrys says.

I’m dimly aware of Petrys beside me, of his hand on mine.

“He’s alive,” Petrys insists. “Look, he’s breathing!”

I blink, trying to clear the sudden flood of hot, angry tears. Zarek looks very pale in the thin moonlight. I try to focus on his lips, his chest, to see if he’s breathing.

I don’t see anything. Panic climbs the back of my spine and beats against the inside of my throat. Petrys grabs my numb, trembling hand and holds it gently above Zarek’s mouth. Slowly, his warm breath spills across my fingers.

I choke back a sob.

“It’s okay,” Petrys whispers. He reaches forward, grabs Zarek’s shoulder, and shakes him. “Come on, Zarek, wake up. We’ve got to go!”

Zarek doesn’t respond, and I remember the cart, the ropes and straw.

“Shit,” Petrys growls.

He reaches forward, grabbing Zarek by both shoulders and shaking him. Zarek’s dark hair flutters across his neck and forehead, but his eyes stay closed.

“Zarek, for fuck’s sake,” Petrys hisses. “Wake up! I can’t drag you all the way out of the castle.”

Petrys leans back on his heels, then raises his hand. He winces as he looks down at Zarek. I reach forward, grabbing his wrist before he can hit his brother.

“Let me try,” I say.

I lean forward, pressing my cheek against Zarek’s. His skin is cool, his breath faint. I rest my hand against his chest, feeling the dull thud of his heart. I breathe deeply, taking in his scent, that thick, rich smell I once thought had to be some kind of expensive perfume.

“Zarek,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the curve of his ear. “Wake up.”

I turn to stare at his face, the curve of his lips, the long shadows of his eyelashes. I remember the first time I saw him, when he rode a horse out to meet me as I entered the gates of Vsenrog. I thought his beauty looked like a mask, something hard and carefully crafted. Something to keep the world at bay.

“Zarek,” I whisper. “Please. Come back to me.”

Nothing. My hands clench around the soft fabric of his shirt, and my eyes sting. I press my forehead against his shoulder.

I don’t know how to do this. Gods, I don’t even know how to shell peas or wash dishes. How can I compete with magic?

I stare at the broken window as panic closes like an invisible knot around my throat. Varitan’s voice hisses through my mind, telling me my body was too weak for sleep magic. That I needed to eat and drink.

How long has it been since Zarek was awake? How long has he been here, on the floor, in this cold room?

Rage and fear burn inside my chest. I can’t leave him here. If I have to carry him myself, damn it, I’ll do it. Because this is the man who protected me, who gave me a weapon and taught me how to fight. Who said he would have raised my child as his own.

He loves me. And I⁠—

My breath catches in the back of my throat. The world suddenly feels very quiet, and very still. I lean down, press my lips against the delicate curve of my husband’s ear, and I whisper the name he told me in the hayloft of a run-down barn as we made our way toward what was left of the Kingdom of Marion.

His name. His secret, true name.

“I need you,” I whisper. “I won’t leave without you. I can’t.”

I pull in another breath, drinking in his scent, feeling the faint warmth of his body beneath my fingers.

“I love you,” I admit.

Chapter 57

Zarek