Page 141 of Queen of War and Ruin

“Of course,” he replies.

“I loved it there,” I tell him. I glance down at our fingers, twined together. “Maybe we could—go back there? Once all this is over? Maybe we could live there. If there’s a place, a house, I mean, that we could use?”

I glance up. He’s looking at me with a strange expression on his face, something naked and raw.

“That’s—” he stammers. “Dungal’s a far cry from a palace.”

“Good,” I reply. “I’ve had enough of palaces!”

Slowly, a smile creeps across his face. It’s like the sun rising to fill the sky.

“So, you’d live in a shack?” he says.

“I’d live in a shack with you,” I reply. “You could teach me how to shell peas, and wash dishes, and be a proper wife.”

He laughs. It’s so beautiful, I wish I could bottle it up and carry it with me forever.

“Why in the gods’ many names would you ever think I would want a proper wife?” he asks.

And then he kisses me again, harder and deeper. I reach for him, sinking my hands into his shirt, pulling his body close to mine. His arm wraps around my waist, and I marvel at just how well our bodies fit together, how it feels like we were always meant to be like this. His fingers sink into my hair, and I open for him, tasting him, that deep, slow burn of arousal stirring to life inside me.

He pulls back, panting. His dark eyes flash wildly.

“Princess,” he says, his voice rough. “Don’t ever be proper.”

I watch the sun dance across his face and catch in his eyes, the man who rode to meet me outside of the walls of Vsenrog. The man who cut his own leg on our wedding night instead of forcing himself on me.

How did it take me so long to realize I love him?

I reach for him again, pressing my lips to his, following the steps to the dance that started on our wedding day. His lips curve into a smile as he tilts his head to kiss me back⁠—

And someone screams.

My back stiffens. Zarek pulls away, then spins toward the campsite. His hand drops to his waist, and I notice, without any surprise, that he’s somehow found a dagger.

“Damn it,” he mutters, turning back to me. “We’d better get back there before Gerard and Petrys kill each other.”

Chapter 70

Zarek

OLD GODS

That was definitely Petrys.

I couldn’t make out what he said, but if Gerard isn’t already killing him, then I’m going to. We’re several days from the Vsenrog border, but still. The gods only know who could be in these mountains, listening for a human voice. And it’s hard enough to hide four horses without screaming like that.

It’s not like Petrys to be so careless. Something about that idiot from Marion really sets my brother off. Yes, Gerard is an ass, but it’s unusual for Petrys to let someone get under his skin like that.

I glance over at Lilias. She smiles at me, and for a moment, I seriously contemplate just letting my brother and Gerard have at it while I fuck my wife, here, beneath the dappled shade of the aspen trees and the mountain wildflowers, and to the nine hells with the rest of the world. It would be lovely.

Until we brought an entire battalion of Vsenrog soldiers down on what’s left of the Marion royal family hiding in the old hunting lodge.

I sigh as we jog toward the thick grove of pine trees where we set up our camp. One of the horses raises his shaggy head and snorts as we approach; Lilias doesn’t seem concerned, so that must be normal horse behavior.

At least I don’t hear any more screaming. I clench my jaw and wrap my fingers around my dagger as we push our way through the dense trees hiding our little campsite. I see the four saddles on the ground, the rumpled bedrolls⁠—

“Godsdamn it,” I snarl.