Queen of Monsters and Madness Read online

  Tehl squeezed around cots piled with furs and blankets and did what he was told. It was hard letting go of Sage. His hands opened and closed as Lilja bustled around him, barking orders at Hayjen. He gazed down at Sage’s pale face and knelt by her side.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Grab that rock heating by the fire. Wrap it in a horse blanket so you don’t burn yourself or Sage, and place it underneath her feet. If we don’t get her toes and fingers heated up, she’ll be in worse trouble.”

  Tehl moved to the fireplace, his breath coming in heavy pants. The air was stifling. He’d just plucked a stone from the fire when the sound of loud cries and startled shouting rent through the air.

  “What the bloody hell is that?” Hayjen demanded, drawing his sword.

  But there was only one thing that would make Tehl’s men react like that.

  “Prepare yourself, and don’t make any sudden movements,” Tehl said.

  A shadow burst through the tent flap and skidded to a stop, hackles raised.

  “Stars above,” Lilja breathed, freezing, her hand pressed against Sage’s chest.

  The leren hissed and slunk toward Sage, her movements liquid. The beast leapt onto one of the tables, eyeing Lilja. Ever so slowly, Lilja removed her fingers from Sage and held out her hand, palm up.

  “I mean you no harm, nor your mistress. She is my kin, and I offer you my friendship as well.”

  Tehl watched the exchange with wide eyes as the feline dropped from the table and silently padded toward Lilja.

  “Love, that’s a very large man-eater,” Hayjen said softly, his tone holding a warning.

  “She’s just protecting her bonded. She won’t hurt me, will you, darling?” she cooed.

  Tehl sucked in a breath as the beast sniffed the Sirenidae’s hand, bumping it with her nose.

  Lilja smiled and brushed a hand along the feline’s velvet head. “Hello to you, too.” She turned from the beast and began to resume her work as the beast nudged Sage’s face, giving her a gentle lick. Tehl gaped.

  The Sirenidae glanced up and jerked her chin at him. “The stone.”

  He blinked a moment before hastily obeying.

  Lilja tugged Sage to one side and patted the cot. “Wild one, she needs you.”

  The large beast nimbly climbed onto the cot and curled around Sage.

  “Help me, Tehl. I need you to lift her. I’m going to pull this off. It’s too damp to do her any favors.” She motioned to the cloak.

  Tehl averted his eyes and shivered as Sage’s chilly flesh touched his own fiery skin. When requested, he let her back down, still staring in awe as the big cat accommodated Lilja, who tucked a fur around Sage.

  “We need help!” Sam yelled, his voice drawing closer. His tone was oddly panicked. Sam rarely panicked.

  Tehl pulled his gaze from his wife’s pale face and glanced at the tent entrance as his brother burst in. His lips thinned as he got a good look at the source of Sam’s distress. Jasmine’s body hung limp in his arms. A pale leg escaped the confinement of the cloak, adorned with bruises, ugly red welts, and deep lacerations. Tehl’s jaw clenched as the anger burning in his gut grew hotter. One brutality after another appeared in the warlord’s wake, it seemed.

  “Place her right here,” Lilja commanded, sparing her niece a final look before rushing to Sam’s side.

  Tehl stood and tugged needlessly at the fur warming Sage, helplessness overtaking his features as he took in the dark smudges marring the skin beneath her eyes. She looked all but dead. He swallowed hard. “Lilja, what do I do?”

  “Nothing,” a husky voice rasped.

  He hid his flinch as his gaze slid to what he had thought was a pile of furs. Swollen brown eyes peeked out at him from underneath a blanket. Blaise. She licked her cracked lips and slowly closed her eyes again, shivers shaking the furs around her. “She’ll be fine.”

  “How do you know?” he barked.

  A wry smile twisted the Scythian woman’s battered face. “Do you really think the warlord would allow his prize to die so easily?”

  Hatred washed over him like ice water along his skin. It was not a feeling he was accustomed to. “What did he do to her?” he hissed, dreading her answer.

  Blaise cracked one puffy eye. “I’m sure he’s given her an elixir to protect her from real harm. Her body will fight off the sickness and then heal itself.”

  A cough seized her, and Tehl quickly filled a cup with water and held it to her lips. Blaise drank weakly, water dribbling down her cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her words garbled.

  Tehl set the cup on the little wooden table and stared down at Blaise. “There’s no cause to worry?”

  “There’s every cause to worry.” Blaise chuckled and then winced, her hand clutching at her ribs. “But not about her body. She’ll fall into a deep sleep and wake up in a few days.” Her gaze slid behind him. “You should be concerned for Jasmine.”

  “Thank you,” he said, nodding and pulling the fur up higher over Blaise. Her eyelids slid closed, and her breathing evened out.

  There wasn’t anything he could do for his wife or Blaise, if what she had spoken was truth. He rolled up his sleeves, the fabric sticking to his damp skin, and turned to Lilja.

  “What can I do?” he pleaded once more. Stars above, he needed something to keep himself occupied or he’d run mad.

  Her worried magenta gaze met his. “Stoke the fire and pray.”

  The Warlord

  She’d stabbed him.

  The vixen had stabbed him. There was nothing Zane hated more than a traitor, and yet… he’d liked it. Reveled in it even.

  Bubbles escaped his mouth, the river pulling him deeper and deeper into its watery clutches. Sage kept surprising him. He both loved and loathed it. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him, and not always in a good way. But that’s what kept him coming back. She was a drug he craved, he needed—and he hated it. The dependency. The addiction to her goodness.

  An emotion that he didn’t want to acknowledge worked its way through him: worry. Not for himself. He’d survive. He always did. The river wouldn’t kill him, but the death of his consort might.

  He’d lived hundreds of years, and this was how he would lose the last person he’d ever cared for. It had been a mistake to keep her, but he couldn’t help himself, much like the sun couldn’t help but rise each morning.

  His back slammed into a rock, but he welcomed the pain as it drowned out the voices inside him, howling in rage that his consort was dying and he was doing nothing. Even now, his limbs seemed heavier, dragging him deeper into darkness, his lungs screaming for air.

  In freeing herself, Sage had killed herself. He’d seen others drown. It wasn’t clean. It was brutal. Violent. He closed his eyes to the frigid swirling darkness around him. There was poetic justice in that. Their relationship had been brutal and violent in the best way. Only his queen would try to kill him and kiss him in the same breath. That was love. True love.

  His lips curled back, the freezing water flooding his mouth. Love. The twisted emotion always managed to burn all his hard efforts to the ground. The darker part of him railed at the betrayal, but logically, it was bound to happen. Humans hurt the ones they loved the most. It was the reality of life. When you lived as long as he had, you saw it time after time.

  Dark satisfaction filled him. At least his love didn’t do it by halves. She’d dove in headfirst, and that’s what had drawn him to her. If she was still alive when he found her, he’d never make the mistake of underestimating her again.

  His black heart squeezed in his chest at the if. He grappled with emotions he’d long thought he was immune to: loss, sorrow; despair. He’d always been a master at power plays and manipulation. He never compromised. She made him softer, and he hated that, but not enough for him to let her go. She changed everything.

  At first, he’d wanted to collect her fire and break her down and forge her into his own
creation, but she’d fascinated him. She wouldn’t break. By standing up to him, she’d fueled his obsession that he could only call love.

  A love that she had for him, too. The voices quieted for a moment and seemed to purr. They knew the truth.

  Sage loved him, too.

  Though she tried to hide it, he’d seen it.

  The moment the river tore her from his grasp, he’d seen it in her eyes. If she survived, she wouldn’t be able to erase him from her soul. They were bound in ways that no one could imagine or understand. He was imprinted on her skin, just as she was imprinted on his.

  Hands wrapped around his arms and lifted his body as his lungs began to burn. His men were just in time. For their sake, they’d better have found his consort.

  Light filtered through his eyelids as they broke the surface. He sputtered and gasped for air, but didn’t open his eyes as his warriors towed him to shore. Rock and sand scratched his bare back as they laid him down. He had never worried he would drown. His genetics made it almost impossible for him to die, and his warriors were the best of the best.

  “My consort…” he rasped, his arms and legs numb.

  “The river pulled her under, and we haven’t been able to find her, my lord.”

  No, the voices inside him snarled. The river couldn’t take her from him. She was his. His fingers curled into the sand beside his hips, rocks jabbing into his palms. Nothing would stand in his way. Not even death could take her from him. He wrestled his rage back. He could not lose it here.

  “Blair?” he called, something thick lodging in his throat.

  “He’s still searching, my lord,” a deep voice answered.

  Ever-dutiful Blair. The man had proven to be beyond useful for all of these years. But Zane knew that his service wasn’t given out of gratitude and loyalty. Fear was a funny thing. It motivated people in the most spectacular ways. Blair was the prime example of that. All it took was a casual inquiry after the man’s family and he straightened up. But he didn’t blame the man. Women had a way of enchanting the best of them.

  “Find her,” he rasped. His warriors nodded and melted into the surrounding forest.

  His breath fogged around him as he slowed his breathing. He rolled his neck to the side, small pins of pain lodging behind his eyes as he stared at the deceptively calm river. How long could Sage survive the water? How long could she hold her breath? Cold dread settled in his stomach as his mind flashed back to her stabbing him. Her lips were already blue by the time he’d reached her.

  One of the knots loosened in his chest. At least sickness wasn’t an issue. He’d made sure sickness wouldn’t take her from him. A small smile tugged at his lips. After her bout in the dungeon, he’d experienced how delicate she was beneath the fire. He’d forgotten how easily people died when they weren’t protected. He’d given her the protection she needed. Sickness would never claim her, but accidents and suicide could.

  Deep in his gut, unease pooled. He’d allowed himself to be ensnared by her, and now he was paying the price.

  She was ours the moment she entered our throne room. The choice was not yours; it was ours. She belongs to us.

  The voices never went away. But they went silent or calmed when she was around. Control was easier to accomplish. Her presence soothed all the chaos inside.

  He smirked as feeling slowly crept back into his extremities. He wanted her with a fierceness he didn’t know he possessed. He needed to claim her, but each time the voices urged him to take, he held himself in check. He wouldn’t take that from her. She’d give it to him.

  The temptation had been there every time he’d crawled into bed with her and wrapped his arms around her. At first, she’d been stiff, but at the end, her body molded to his and she sought him out in her sleep. He’d spent hours watching her sleep, caressing her body, relishing the cinnamon scent that drifted from her skin in intoxicating waves.

  He’d always known he needed to produce heirs, but the women of his court always lacked something. However, in the stillness of the night with Sage asleep in his arms, he’d allowed himself to entertain the idea of heirs. Once the idea was planted, he could never free himself from it.

  Sage, heavy with his child, was the reward. His future.

  A future someone had tried to rob him of.

  The warlord slowly sat up and placed a hand against the ground to steady himself. His consort was a brilliant woman, but she didn’t have all the necessary skills to avoid detection so well.

  She’d had help.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the small wound. A toxin that could paralyze him for more than ten minutes was a rare thing. Whoever had given that to her possessed a dangerous weapon, and more so, they possessed dangerous knowledge. Someone had betrayed him.

  He carefully pushed to his feet and strode toward his boots. There was a traitor in his midst. His gaze narrowed on his boots as his mind jumped to several options. He’d keep silent until the right moment, then strike.

  You’ll not hurt her.

  No, he wouldn’t hurt Sage. He’d punish her, for sure, and she’d beg him, but he wouldn’t hurt her. Nothing would mar her skin.

  He bared his teeth at the river, thinking about the state she’d been in when he’d finally caught up: cuts, bruises, scratches had covered every inch of her body. He’d hated that. Even though hunting her had been the most engaging event he’d participated in for years, it angered him that she’d abuse herself after all the effort he’d taken to heal her.

  “Report,” he commanded, his words sharp.

  Blair appeared by his side and knelt. “She lives.”

  Just two words, but they calmed the voices inside. “Where is she?”

  “She escaped.”

  He’d expect nothing less from his consort. “And are you tracking her?” he asked with a smile. The hunt was on.

  “Yes.”

  “Very good.”

  “She’s been retrieved.”

  The warlord stilled. That was not what he wanted to hear. “By whom?”

  “By the crown prince of Aermia and his party.”

  The rage he’d been barely suppressing threatened to overwhelm him. The filthy cur had put his hands on his consort. The princeling would rue the day he stole what was his. No one took what was his.

  Kill. Kill. Kill.

  Tremors worked down his arms as he tried to get control of himself. He was dangerously close to losing control. Even when Sage had scorned him the first time, he’d not been this bad. He needed to calm himself. The stakes were much higher now. If he let emotion rule, he’d make a mistake, and he didn’t have time for mistakes.

  He blew out a breath and uncurled his hands. The Aermian boy was playing a game he couldn’t win. A cruel smile tipped the corners of Zane’s mouth. He’d relish taking everything from the pup of a prince as he claimed his consort once and for all. Aermia was as good as his.

  The prince’s actions accelerated his plans more than he liked, but it would be all the more satisfying to take Aermia and his consort as the prize in the end.

  He turned to Blair, who still knelt at his feet, staring at the ground. If he were a lesser man, he’d kill him, but men like Blair were rare. His warrior didn’t hesitate when telling him the news of his woman’s disappearance. That was bravery.

  “They’re being followed?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then leave them.”

  It was almost painful to say the words. The voices demanded he give chase and hunt Sage down, but he knew better. Recklessness always ended in failure. He’d plot and maneuver, and in the end, he’d be the victor. If he wanted her, he had to be patient.

  In time, Sage would come to him, beg him to take her back.

  And he would.

  For a price.

  Tehl

  Neither worked.

  All three women worsened through the night and the next day.

  Tehl rubbed his bleary eyes and scanned the cramped room. Hayjen snor
ed quietly in the right corner, his chin resting on his chest. Sam sat near Jasmine, bloodshot eyes staring blankly into space, while Rafe sat between Sage and Blaise, his face betraying his anxiety. His gaze flickered to Lilja, who buzzed around the room, humming a haunting tune. She’d worked tirelessly since the women arrived. Tehl didn’t think he’d seen her sit down once.

  He pushed to his feet and edged around the cot toward the Sirenidae. She paced to and fro in the tent, her brow furrowed, lips pursed. Something was on her mind, that much was obvious.

  “You’ll wear a hole in the floor,” he said softly.

  “It’s better than sitting still while they die.”

  His spine snapped straight, and Rafe growled from his spot.

  Lilja immediately halted and took Tehl’s hand, an apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Tehl squeezed her hand once and pulled back. He swallowed hard, choking down his fear before stating the thought he knew he shared with the other two men. “So…you believe she may die after all?”

  She sighed and hung her head, her silvery white hair hanging limply over her shoulders. “I’ve done everything I can for them, but they need more care than I, alone, can give, and I’m running out of supplies.” Lilja glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I’m afraid we only have one option, and it has risks.”

  “We need to move them,” Rafe guessed.

  Lilja cast a look his way. “Yes.” Her tone was resolute.

  Tehl had been thinking the same thing, but there were so many factors he couldn’t control.

  “Of course, they may not be strong enough for the journey.” She hesitated before continuing. “But if we don’t get them the help they need, they’ll die anyway.” Lilja pressed her palms to her eyes and rubbed. “They will have a chance if we get them back to the palace, but if we stay here for too long, they will die.” He glanced at Sage’s still form, pensive.

  “There’s a storm brewing,” Rafe added softly.