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“It was only by the merest chance that Serjeant Iarthil learned that my father had arranged for me to be sent back to Aleron. Back into my uncle’s hands. Because my father had no wish to embroil Tagdon in another kingdom’s squabbles, he said—and because he was already overwhelmed with ruling Tagdon and did not want to be at war. He has since remarried and sired another heir. So he has no use for me, and I suppose that he understood better than anyone how easily the first in line can die to make room for another behind.” Hearing the bitterness that crept into her voice, Elina forced her thoughts away from her father. “So we fled Tagdon.”
Warrick’s thumb stroked her cheek. She’d probably said enough—or too much—but she couldn’t stop.
“Then there was Lady Faraine.” Her throat tightened into a clump merely saying the name. “She’d come with us when we first fled. She’d been my mother’s lady-in-waiting, her friend, her closest advisor. And she promised my mother that she would help guide me through the courts we traveled to.”
He wiped her tears again, and a little laugh escaped her.
“Despite her promise, I was not easily helped. I was angry and grieving and—and…vengeful. We were reliant upon other kingdoms for sanctuary and alliances, but I had no patience for their politics or their concerns. And they had sympathy for me but no one was willing to risk their armies to help a screaming child regain her throne. So Lady Faraine, she taught me how to speak at other courts, to control my anger. Taught me to be clever instead of rash. Taught me that when a situation makes me want to both laugh and cry, to choose the laughter. She continued the lessons my mother had begun—and she became to me as she was to my mother. A friend. An advisor. And I confided in her. Of course I confided in her—there was no one else. A queen cannot lay her burdens on her maids and attendants. But Lady Faraine, I could always speak with her. Of my rage and my grief. Of my hopes. She knew me, Warrick. Better than anyone. Better than my mother ever had, or even Soren had, because Lady Faraine and I were always together. For years, while traveling. Or…still fleeing, in truth. Soren had begun sending assassins after us. One even managed to—”
She turned to show Warrick the scar just below the ribs on her right side. His blunt fingertip traced the ragged puncture, then slipped around to her back where the arrow had poked through the other side.
“Elina.” He growled her name and pulled her close into his chest. Struggling against more tears—though from the care he showed her rather than from the pain of her memories—she pressed her face into his throat. Her arm rose to wrap around his neck, clutching him to her.
Her breath shuddered against his skin. “The assassins always found us, so we rarely stayed anywhere for long. And in each kingdom we sought allies. Someone who might be willing to stand against my uncle. Always going farther and farther from home—and I had begun to suffer from a deep melancholy. The first heat of anger had passed, my mother was dead, my father indifferent to whether I lived. We had been gone for three years, and I was so tired, Warrick. And beginning to think that returning to Aleron and fighting my uncle was a hopeless cause. Until the witch. The witch that healed me when—”
She touched her side again.
“She spoke to me a prophecy. ‘Bind to you with ribbon red a warrior who knows the weight of chains. From the Dead Lands he will come, and by his axe your tyrant will fall.’” Elina paused. She would not say how she was supposed to know her warrior. Her heart was too vulnerable and Warrick’s presence here too precious to speak it aloud now, as if it might conjure another warrior who would forever follow her after laying eyes upon her face. She wanted only this one—and his axe. “Truthfully, it says nothing of you killing my uncle. Only that your axe will. So I only need marry you and take your weapon. But I will take you as well.”
A short chuckle rumbled through his throat in response to her teasing tone. She pulled back and found her lips caught in a kiss.
Then they were face to face again.
“For certain I will take you,” she murmured. Long years spent in this tent had taught her how loudly she could speak without being overheard outside. “Never did I truly think that I might be…” Loved. But she would not say that fear aloud. “Never did I think that I might know such pleasure as you give to me. I have heard that I could do it myself but until you, there were always attendants in my tent. It was something Lady Faraine insisted upon. For my protection as well as to provide witnesses to my virtue. Because one day, I would marry. And the queen must be a maid.”
