Page 59

Amaia

L ow flames danced across the red and black tent. I toyed with the lantern, using my toes to adjust the level of lighting provided as a way of distraction. Alexiares kept his back to me, but the irritated sigh from the constant bright to low light confirmed that he was in fact awake and choosing to ignore me. Again.

“This is oddly reminiscent of our first night camped together,” I said, breaking the silence. With my flames brewing beneath my skin, I was burning up despite the cold of the night. Stripping down to my final layers hadn’t helped in the slightest.

“This tent is bigger.”

“Seriously,” I snapped, pushing up to my elbows and glaring at the back of his head. His hair had grown out completely, gone was the buzzed hair, even the sides were not tickling the back of his neck. “We could die tonight, and you’re not even going to look at me.”

That caught his attention and the death glare he directed at me stole my breath. “Satisfied?”

No. Not really . Actually, when the initial shock wore off, it pissed me off. Someone has to do the hard shit , I reminded myself. I loved him—so much in fact, that constantly putting myself at risk was gradually becoming harder of a task. Not for his sake, but for mine. Because his love made me selfish, and there were too many condemned souls counting on me to fall back on my selfish ways.

I gathered myself, focusing on finding peace amid the swirling conflict of ego and uncertainty. “I’m trying so hard to be a reasonable individual right now.”

“Reasonable individuals don’t volunteer to die every fucking day,” He spat, his anger bringing forth that slip of an accent. “I don’t understand your complete urgency to rush to your grave. You are a leader , those soldiers out there are supposed to die for you.”

There it was again. That crack in his voice that shattered my heart into a million pieces. I know my family thought I couldn’t care less about how they felt regarding my actions. That wasn’t true. I did care. In fact, seeing how much my actions hurt them was a heartbreak comparable to no other. But duty was duty. I had an oath to keep and a promise to Prescott to hold true to. They could never know all I had planned for the future because it would destroy them.

“If only it were that easy, my love,” I relented. “You want to talk about it? Then come on, let’s talk, I’m right here. Give me a chance to listen, just because I may not be able to?—”

His laugh was of the Bloodhound , not Alexiares. “Give you a chance. Amaia, you wouldn’t take my … my feelings into consideration months ago in Duluth and you won’t take them now.” He paused, carefully considering his choice of words. “I fell in love with you because of your fire—it would be unwise of me to ask you to dim your flame.”

Something fragile in my chest broke. That fire, the very thing that drove me, suddenly felt too hot. Too destructive. I reached for his arm, fingers brushing against the bare skin of his chest. “I never meant to burn you.”

Dim lighting from within the tent made his eyes glow. He stared into mine, searching—promising. “You didn’t. You could never. I suppose we’ll have to find balance.”

“If only we had the time,” I said, swallowing hard. I inched closer, my hand sliding down his arm, stopping to intertwine my fingers with his. Pressing a kiss to his nose, I whispered against his skin. “I am sorry. At times, it’s hard to separate the duty I have as your General and the one I have as your lover.”

“My lover?” Alexiares let out a cough of a laugh, the sound rough. “I was under the impression the name you now held was a bit more permanent than that.”

A ghost of a smile touched my lips as I met his gaze, searching for permission. “Only if you still want me to have it.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. He just studied me, his face unreadable, and it felt like being stabbed through the gut, the pain sharper than anything I’d felt on the battlefield. Then, his hand slid to my waist, fingers curling as if he were anchoring himself to me. I crawled toward him, sliding into his lap, my knees framing his legs as I straddled him.

“What I want,” he said, kissing the crown of my head, “is to grow old with you. To have the chance to love you for as long as possible.” He shifted enough to meet my gaze. “Living at The Compound, seeing all that normal shit—the stuff I didn’t think I’d ever have—it made me comfortable enough to start dreaming. I didn’t dream before … before you . Only nightmares.”

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat as his voice broke again.

“But at The Compound,” he continued, his hands coming up to cup my face with a gaze so intense, it was as if he were studying me for the moment I inevitably disappeared. “Sleeping next to you, I began to dream. I don’t think I would ever dream again if I lost you and that scares the hell out of me, because the dreams—they’re more vivid than our reality.”

Just like that, it was all out in the open. Laid bare between us. Every jagged piece of his soul.

He shifted his weight, sitting up and fumbling for the lantern that illuminated his olive-hued skin. His hands moved to his face, fingers tracing his jaw, then pressing into his temples as though searching for a release. They lingered for a beat, trembling slightly before falling away. I grabbed them, pressing one against my heart while I traced the lines of his ink with my fingers.

I let my head fall against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Neither of us moved, caught in a fragile moment where breathing—just existing in the same space as each other was the only thing that mattered.

There was nothing to say. No grand declarations could change the reality of what we faced. Perhaps that was why we hadn’t spoken about this until now. We both knew there was no point. All we had was now, and we would love each other like there was no tomorrow. Because there very well might not be.

I pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, my voice wavering as I whispered, “In every lifetime, Alexiares. But I hope the next one is peaceful.”

He stilled, his forehead coming to rest against mine, his body tense. The hesitation between us was fleeting, days without my mouth meeting his lips made me desperate for his affection—his attention. He kissed me. It was tentative—soft, coaxing, almost afraid to demand too much.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him, needed this. The armor we both wore cracked.

His hands tightened at my waist, grounding against me as I clung to him, my fingers threading through his loose hair, tugging lightly. I grinned as Alexiares shuddered under my touch, biting down on his bottom lip gently, then kissing it lightly to encourage it to heal.

The world blurred at the edges; nothing existed in this moment but this—us.

Our breaths, our hearts, our tangled limbs trying to hold on as though we’d never let go. His hands guided me, sliding up to the curve of my spine and pulling me flush against him. His lips found the base of my neck. I gasped, already mourning the loss when he moved away.

But he returned, his mouth claiming mine with a new intensity—deeper. There was no rush, no frantic urgency. We were close enough that I swore our hearts beat to the same rhythm.

“If this is all we have,” I whispered, tracing over the scar placed right over his heart: A M A I A. Reluctantly I broke our connection, the words catching in my throat, “it’s enough.”

Alexiares rested his forehead against mine. My fingers shook as I cupped his face, brushing the stubble along his jaw, memorizing every detail I already knew by heart.

His hands stayed at my waist, his touch feather-light now, like he didn’t want to let go. The corner of his mouth lifted, a smile—so small, yet so devastatingly tender. “It’ll never be enough, but I’ll take it, anyway.”

The Outskirts of Covert Province were about the most deplorable thing I’d ever seen in my life—and I considered Before me well-traveled. The further we moved into the territory, the more unsettling it all became. This stretch of land was so barren and broken that it made the emptiness we stumbled upon in Hickman seem like a welcome party. Air felt heavier here. Of course the blistering cold and acrid scent of decay didn’t help.

It had been days since we’d seen another living soul. Houses, barns, entire communities stood hollowed out. Laundry lines hung limp against aluminum rooms and wood panels tacked over crumbling brick—the fabric stiff with dirt, time, and ice. Meals were left uneaten on tables. By meals, I meant stale, molded pieces of bread with maggot infested scraps of animal fat.

Every step through these remnants of lives made me want Ronan’s head all much more.

Still, the gnawing sensation of being watched clung to me, sharpening my instincts, reverting me back to that primal state humans never evolved from—not truly. There was more than one instance when I turned, catching glimpses of absolutely jack shit but shadows cast by bare trees or the occasional movement of tarp flapping in the wind. The realization doing nothing to ease the nerves my gut told me was validated.

If Ronan knew we were here, why let us get this far?

Why allow us to creep closer to the capitol without a direct challenge?

What the hell was happening back home? On the other side of these wards?

The questions were splinters beneath my skin, the answer hidden in the empty silence.

Isabella approached quietly, note in hand. “Scout reports came back,” she said. “There’s movement to the east. A small unit, but it looks like they’re camped out for now.”

I paused for a second, catching Alexiares’s gaze before turning to face Isabella. “Small doesn’t mean harmless.”

Here we go . I considered my options, ran through the pages and pages of plans I’d spent years working on and compared them against what our troops were ready for now. “Get Millie,” I ordered. “I want a detachment of the cavalry and a squad of your ground support to escort any civilians you find to safety. Move quickly and get them as far away from the area as possible. We’ll regroup at Rendezvous Point L.”

Part of me knew we weren’t finding civilians because we weren’t searching for them. We were securing our perimeter and ensuring our safety as we moved through Kentucky, but we were not actively seeking out anyone but soldiers on the other side. There was no reason to put them at the center of a war that had nothing to do with them and everything to do with their leader. They were already casualties of an oppressor, I had no intention of making them casualties of war.

Isabella exchanged a quick glance with Reina, who nodded, her expression determined but tinged with reluctance. We’d known this was the plan for months, separating—this part of war had never been easy for her.

“Keep an eye out for Tomoe, she’ll need your help,” I teased, trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t end with her or me in tears.

“I heard that,” Tomoe grumbled, securing Wrath as she passed by, flipping me off as a way of goodbye. “Until fate decides to intervene, asshole.”

“Whenever destiny chooses to meddle once more,” I shot back, unable to hide my smirk.

Reina pulled me into a smothering hug, sending one last wave of peace and happiness my way. I hugged her back, taking in her lavender scent she’d somehow managed to maintain without access to a proper bath in God knows how long. “See you soon, lovebug?”

“You better,” I replied, smiling as she stepped back and joined her unit. Within minutes, the cavalry mobilized with a practiced, quiet efficiency. Their hoofbeats faded into the distance as I lingered, staring down the road ahead.

The troops left with me adjusted their formations, a ripple of readiness coursing through their ranks as they prepared for the worst. I rested my hand on the hilt of my blade, my grip firm. The silence wasn’t empty anymore—it felt alive, as though the land itself held its breath.

“Stay sharp,” I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else.