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“Let the boy be a boy. I assure you it won’t kill anyone.” Laughter came behind them. A woman with summer lightened hair entered the courtyard. “Besides, we have visitors.”
My breath caught in my chest when another face followed behind the first woman.
Saga.
I was quick to ignore the haughty wretch at her side. Better to pretend like he was not there.
My wife wore a fine gown made of blue silk and satin, the underskirt rustled as she walked, and her scar-free skin was wrapped in red stones on golden chains, her hair in curls and braids and a damn ribbon again.
Innocent, and unaware what turns her life would soon take.
In Saga’s arms was a bundled child. From the plump leg and size of the little, I’d guess the child to be nearing two turns. Meaning Saga had been royal consort to that bleeding maniac for nearly as long.
Riot smiled. “This is a surprise. I thought you were arriving tomorrow. Rave, your battle lord arrives.”
At once, the guards sparring snapped to attention, then pounded fists over their hearts as Davorin strode to the king.
He glared at the warriors and barked, “Out. I speak to the king alone.”
Without a moment of hesitation, the captains repeated the battle lord’s orders and ushered the sweaty warriors out of the courtyard.
My fingers twitched at my side. If only I could take up the sword on the king’s belt and run the point through the battle lord’s throat.
The first woman reached for Riot’s arm and pressed a kiss to his cheek before looking down at the boy behind the king. “You keep running the boy ragged with your lessons.”
Saga snorted and stepped next to me, her eyes on Riot, but—gods—she was right there.
Perfect and terribly out of reach. Still, I tried.
“You are not here, Ari,” Wraith told me, a hand on my shoulder. “She will not react to you.”
I ignored him, pulse racing, and reached for one of Saga’s long curls. I’d had her in my arms not long ago, but it wasn’t enough. Any chance to touch her would never be enough until I had her for certain, awake and alive.
I’d expected nothing when my fingers touched her, a breeze of air, a whisper of sensation, but her hair was soft in my hands. Silky and rife with lavender soap. I stepped directly behind her, closed my eyes, and breathed her in.
The vision of Saga jolted, she glanced over her shoulder, looking straight through me, and shuddered before she took a step nearer to her cruel consort.
“Interesting.” Wraith rubbed his chin. “She did feel you. Proof that mark on your skin connects to all versions of her heart.”
“No need to make up explanations,” I said. “You can let me think it is because I’m irresistible, even during fae sleep. Not because my skin is inked in her feather.”
Wraith frowned. “Just watch and do your best to be silent.”
“I assure you, my best will not be good enough for you.” I turned away before he could retort, and watched the scene unfold.
“What are you teaching him?” Saga asked as she pressed a kiss to the child hidden in the blankets.
The boy opened his mouth to answer, but Riot held out a hand, cutting him off. “Literacy.”
Davorin chuckled. “Have I kept your borders too peaceful that our king must pass his time by teaching orphans to read?”
“It’s honorable to care for his folk,” Saga said.
Davorin glanced at her like she was ridiculous, like she had nothing but air in her skull.
A moment that happened in the past had earned him another vow of torture from me. Perhaps I’d take an eye for the way he rolled his. There was no shortage of ways in which I wanted to destroy him.
Without acknowledging her further, Davorin moved beside the king. “There are issues to discuss.”
