Page 136 of Queen of War and Ruin

I glance away, guilt burning in my chest like a live coal. I’ve had plenty of time to think about this, locked away in Blayne’s stupid house, counting down the days until my husband’s public execution.

“It’s my fault Prince Laurance turned on us in Ethiria,” I admit.

“What?”

I take a breath and force myself to continue.

“He said he was going to marry me,” I explain. “The day I stayed behind and saw Malrik and the elf arrive. That morning, he— Laurance, he threatened you. And⁠—”

I hesitate. Zarek stares at me. Gods, I feel like such an idiot.

I should have taken the offer, my mind whispered over and over as I stared at the ceiling of the narrow little bedroom in Blayne’s house. If I’d taken the offer, Zarek would be free.

“I held a knife to his throat,” I finally admit.

Zarek stares at me for another heartbeat. And then he explodes into laughter.

“You’re kidding me,” he says, once he can speak again. “The blade I gave you?”

I press my palms against my burning cheeks and nod.

“It was so stupid,” I confess. “I wasn’t thinking. I just⁠—”

Zarek reaches forward, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into a kiss. He kisses me hard and deep, his lips pressing into mine, our tongues tangling together, and slowly, the rest of the world fades away, and all that’s left is my bone-deep certainty that I could never have said yes to Laurance. Not in a thousand years, not over a thousand lives. Not after sharing one kiss with the snake of Vsenrog.

Zarek pulls away and laughs again, his dark eyes dancing in the thick afternoon light.

“Gods,” he says. “Lilias, how could you ever think you’re not competent? You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gerard barks.

I flinch and pull away from Zarek. Gerard stands in the shadows behind us, grinning and shaking his head.

“You are the worst at watch duty,” he tells Zarek. “You know that?”

“Go to the hells,” Zarek growls.

“You’re hopeless,” Gerard replies as he shakes his head. “You two might as well come back to the campsite. We’re packing up anyway.”

Zarek stands, then holds his hand out to me. I take it, and he helps me to my feet.

But he drops my hand the moment he turns to follow Gerard back to the hidden meadow where we spread our bedrolls for the day.

Chapter 68

Zarek

NOT A CONVERSATION YOU SHOULD HAVE WITH ME

“We’ll be there tomorrow?” Petrys asks me, in a low whisper.

We’re walking next to the horses, picking our way down a long, rocky slope as the eastern horizon turns from ebony to the tired, washed-out gray of old rags. My feet hurt. Hells, everything hurts. I’ve been sleeping about as well as you’d expect to sleep during the day in a stolen bedroll spread on top of rocks, and my patience for my brother’s stupid questions is about as thin as my blankets.

So I bite my tongue. Petrys did save my life, after all. And he and Gerard seem to have come to some sort of truce, or at least they’ve kept their fighting to muttered insults and overly dramatic eye rolls.

Petrys glances back over his shoulder, as if assuring himself that Lilias and Gerard are still there, and then turns back to me.

“It’s not my business,” he begins.