A figure paced outside the canvas. He watched the shadow prowl back and forth, illuminated by the nearby campfires. Eventually, the shadow decided to enter, whispering curtly to the guards at the flap. A pale hand pushed aside the tarp and peered inside. Ruenen bolted upwards, lowering his feet onto the sheepskin rug.
“You should be asleep.” Marai stepped inside, flap closing shut behind her.
“I’ve watched you pace around outside for five minutes deciding whether to come in or not.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “I didn’t want to disturb you, in case you were resting.”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked.
“Leif snores.”
Ruenen snickered. He smelled the lie. He saw it in the way her eyes simmered in the dark tent; two beacons of purple flame.
“Are you really a faerie queen?”
Marai glowered. “Nosficio shouldn’t have said that.”
“But are you?”
Her jaw clenched. “I’m Queen Meallán’s descendant. Progeny to her power. Nosficio seems to think this makes me heir to her nonexistent throne, as well.”
An ember glowed deep within Ruenen. Something bloomed and spread, and brought him warmth. He began to laugh.
Marai stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Why is that funny?”
“Because it’s ironic. I have no royal blood at all, yet I’m Prince—”
“Not so loud,” she hissed at him, stepping closer.
“—While you, the Lady Butcher, are actually heir to an ancient throne.”
“I have no intention of taking action on it, though,” Marai said, crossing her arms.
“You could. You’re already the leader of the fae—”
“Keshel’s leader of the fae—”
“No, he’s not. They look to you now, Sassafras. The moment they stepped foot in these lands, you became their leader.”
“I don’t want it. A throne. Power. None of the responsibility.”
“You sound like someone else I know,” Ruenen said with a snarky grin.
Marai’s lips twitched again. They quieted. He couldn’t look away from her. His heart hurt so deep it felt like it might devour itself. If this was the last night he would gaze upon her face, he’d savor every single second.
“We could die tomorrow,” he said, sucking the air right from the tent. He couldn’t help but voice the growing fear that had ravaged his mind all day. They didn’t have enough men. Even with Nosficio’s strength and speed, and the magic of the fae, it wasn’t enough.
Marai’s face shuttered. “Don’t say such things, Ruen.” Her voice was as soft as the silken petals of a flower, ones Ruenen had rubbed between his fingers in the garden at the monastery, distracting him from Amsco’s lessons.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Another lie. Ruenen knew it was also because she didn’t want to be alone that night.
He gulped down the unspoken things. Words that were too heavy to say out loud. Not when they could both die in mere hours. Three words stayed on his tongue, sweet and sour at once, twisting his gut into knots.
“Stay with me, then.”
He reached out his hand. Four steps and she’d crossed the tent. Her calloused fingers closed around his own. He laid back onto the cot, scooting to make room. Marai curled around him, holding his hand to her chest. Ruenen draped his other arm over her small body and pressed his forehead to hers.
Their breath synchronized. Their hearts beat in tandem, a music so pure and potent. He’d never truly appreciated those sounds before. That music could be a person. A feeling. A moment suspended in time. A song in his blood. Ruenen breathed in the leather and verdant smell of her. A crackling fire in his lungs.
And slowly, over the course of the night, their eyelids drifted closed. Her soft breath, a whispered kiss against his cheek, lulled him to a sleep he didn’t believe possible.
All through the night, they held each other. The Butcher and the Bard.
Chapter 23
Rayghast
The city of Dul Tanen was electric with preparation for battle.
Hundreds of soldiers vacated the barracks and the city. Rayghast had been worried about the morale of the men with all the nasty rumors, but his concerns were swept away by the evening’s appearance of several blue-armored Varanese commanders through the castle’s portcullis.
Varana’s forces had finally arrived.
“King Rayghast.” A stoic Varanese commander bowed to him, his voice heavily accented. “I’m Commander Chul, head of Emperor Suli’s forces.”
