Page 40

Chapter Forty

Aleksander

The desert wind whips sand against my face as I stop outside of Asha’s tent, where Titanus stands.

I smile at him. “Ah, the ever-vigilant watchdog. Tell me, do they feed you scraps from Asha’s plate, or do you have to beg for those too?”

Titanus’ face remains impassive, those steely blue eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Surely, you can spare a word for your future chieftain?” I cross my arms. “Or has Asha ordered you to maintain this fascinating impression of a statue?”

Still nothing. Not even a twitch.

I circle him, noting how his jaw clenches ever so slightly.

“I must say, your dedication to silence is admirable. Though I wonder...” I tap my fingers against my weapon belt. “Does it stem from loyalty, or the simple inability to string together coherent sentences?”

The commander shifts his weight—barely perceptible, but there it is. A crack in the armor.

“My Lord.” Titanus’ voice comes out flat and controlled. “Lady Asha is occupied with battle preparations.”

“Oh, he speaks. Alert the scribes. This moment must be recorded for posterity.” I hold my hand against my chest in mock astonishment. “Next you’ll be telling me you can read and write as well.”

But Titanus has already retreated back into his fortress of silence—stance rigid. The man truly is impossible to rattle. How disappointingly dull.

I slip into Asha’s tent, where the air inside is warm and scented with burning cedar.

She looks up from a table in the center of the room. “It’s about time you joined me.”

Without hesitation, I take the seat across from her. “I had to make sure the camp was set for the night.”

She pours wine and hands me a goblet.

For a while, we drink in silence, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire.

“He never shared a drink with me,” she says, breaking the silence first.

“Your husband?”

Shadows fall across her face as she nods. “He preferred to drink alone.”

I stay silent, allowing her to continue.

“He was a cruel man,” she says, her words so soft I have to lean forward to hear her. “When he died, I felt nothing. No sadness, no relief. Just a void.”

I understand that feeling. It was the exact way I felt the day my father died.

She finishes her wine, then sets her goblet aside. “I’ve been thinking about our future and our houses. I believe we can create something lasting.”

“I agree.”

The firelight skims her face, illuminating the freckles across her nose, the graceful arch of her brows.

“Asha,” I say softly.

She shifts to face me as I lean down, but just as my lips nearly touch hers, she turns away, and they brush against her cheek instead.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

A sharp ache twists in my chest—unexpected and unwelcome.

I pull back and run a hand through my hair. “We stand on the verge of uniting our houses, and you won’t even allow me to kiss you?”

“This alliance was built on strategy and necessity.”

“I thought it could be more than that.” The admission slips out before I can stop it, and I hate the way it sounds—hopeful, just like all those days when I tried to please my father.

Her shoulders tense. “Aleksander...”

I shake my head, forcing a smile I don’t feel. “Forget it. I’m being foolish.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, regret thick in her voice.

“I didn’t think I had feelings to hurt.”

She reaches out, as if to touch my hand, but stops herself. “You’re not as unfeeling as you pretend to be.”

My gaze drops to our near-touching hands. “Perhaps not.”

I stand and slip my fingers into my weapon belt. “We should focus on the campaign. There’s much to be done.”

Relief flits across her face as she nods. “Agreed.”

I turn to leave, but hesitation roots me in place for a heartbeat longer. “For what it’s worth,” I say without facing her, “I thought we could have had something real.”

“Aleksander,” she begins, but I don’t wait to hear the rest.

Stepping out into the crisp night air, I inhale deeply, trying to clear my head, but of course, it doesn’t fucking work.

I walk aimlessly as my thoughts churn. When did I start craving more than ambition and power?

An image flashes unbidden in my thoughts—the way Annora looks at Jasce. The love that burns behind her eyes.

Fuck!

Since when did I envy my brother for anything other than his title? Wanting that kind of connection was never part of the plan.

I slip a hand into my cloak and grab the false gold.

“You’re the fool, Alek. You will always be nothing.” I slam my father’s voice away, but not before it echoes again and again and again.

Shut the fuck up!

I weave through the tents, making sure everyone and everything is where it’s supposed to be.

As I pass by a flickering campfire, a solitary person catches my eye. Kythara sits hunched over, drawing a whetstone along the edge of her sword. Sparks dance with each stroke, lighting up her face in brief flashes.

“Careful,” I say as I stop near her fire, “you might set the entire camp ablaze with all those sparks.”

She doesn’t look up. “Better the camp than letting my blade dull.”

“You’re always so serious.” I sink my fingers into my weapon belt and study her in the firelight, watching the way the flames reflect in her dark eyes. “You know, there’s more to life than sharpening swords and scowling.”

Her gaze flicks up to meet mine—cold and unamused. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

“Well, for starters, camaraderie. A good drink. Maybe even a smile once in a while.”

“I’ll smile when there’s something worth smiling about.” She returns her focus to the blade, dismissing me.

I lean against a nearby crate. “You wound me. Here I am, offering delightful company, and you toss it aside.”

She sheathes her sword with a sharp snap and rises to her feet. “What do you want, Aleksander?”

Why does she have to say my name like that? As if it burns her tongue?

I block her path. “Why are you so hostile?”

She glares up at me. “Move.”

“At least tell me why you dislike me so much.”

“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “You’re arrogant, manipulative, and you think you can waltz in with that smug grin and get whatever you want.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“Believe me, I could go on.”

“Please, don’t stop.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only when I’m around you,” I admit. “You bring out the best in me.”

“Then, do us both a favor and stay away.” She tries to sidestep me, but I mirror her movement, blocking her path.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Casually, I lean against a tent post. “Besides, I think you enjoy our little exchanges.”

She crosses her arms, the subtle movement drawing my eye to the henna designs on her hands. The patterns seem to shift with her mood. Today, they are sharp and angular, with swirls that wrap around her hands like serpents. “You’re delusional.”

“Perhaps.” I shrug. “But at least I’m not boring.”

She tilts her head, examining me like one might a particularly annoying insect. “Do you practice being this infuriating, or does it come naturally?”

“Born talent. Though, I must say, your wit challenges me.”

“I’m glad that I can help,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I smirk. “See? Was that so hard? A glimpse of humor suits you.”

“I’m not here to suit anyone.”

“Not even a little?” I hold up my thumb and finger, barely an inch apart.

“Not even at all.” She huffs and glances away, but not before I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Ah, there it is. A crack in your wall.”

She quickly masks her expression. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I? Or maybe you don’t dislike me as much as you pretend.”

“Trust me,” she says as she levels me with a stare cold enough to freeze volcanic ash, “my dislike is very real.”

“Then, why are you still standing here talking to me?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, searching for a rebuttal.

Sensing a small victory, I grin. “Maybe it’s because you find me intriguing.”

“Intriguing isn’t the word I’d use.” She grips the hilt of her sword. “Annoying. Exasperating. Those come to mind.”

“Yet here we are.” I gesture between us.

She squares her shoulders. “You’re like a stray dog that won’t stop following me.”

I laugh. “A dog? I’ve been called many things, but that’s a first.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” She tries once more to move past me.

I step aside with a graceful bow. “As the lady wishes.”

A sudden gust of wind whips her hair into her face. She shoves it back and eyes me warily. “You’re not going to try to stop me this time?”

“I’m not entirely without manners.” I flash a grin at her, liking that she stirs the reckless energy within me. The energy I have had to tame over the last few months.

“Good night, Aleksander.” She turns and walks away.

“Sweet dreams, Kythara,” I call after her.

She doesn’t look back, but I catch the slightest stiffness in her posture.

Most people tiptoe around me, but she meets me head on, unafraid to push back.

“Enjoying the evening, My Lord?” One of the Watchers stands nearby, eyeing me curiously.

“Immensely.”

He nods and moves along, leaving me alone with the fading warmth of the fire.

I run a thumb over the piece of false gold in my pocket, and with one last glance in the direction Kythara went, I turn and make my way toward my tent.