Page 29 of Star Crossed Delta

SABA

W hen Saba woke the following day, sunlight streamed into her room, painting the walls in hues of pink and gold.

She breathed, chest lighter as though a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

The bridal chamber now felt less like a prison, and a sliver of faith floated in her heart regarding her husband.

She stepped out of her room and down the stairs with a smile.

Until she heard Mak’s timbre coming from the dining room.

It was rare that he ate with her, and her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice.

Mak was conferring with his Signet brothers on a holo call via his oversized screen.

To her surprise, breakfast was laid out on a long mahogany table.

Saba hesitated, her pulse racing.

His eyes met hers, and he raised a hand to beckon her inside.

An electric current seemed to pass between them, making the hairs on her neck stand up.

She tamped down her surge of desire for him by returning his nod, forcing a serene smile as she stepped further into the room.

A flicker of emotion passed over his features before he returned his attention to the discussion at hand.

He sat at the head of the table, a portrait of stoic elegance as he conversed in hushed tones.

Sweet Eden, he had such presence and magnetism.

Even in the simple dining chair, he was tall and regal. His eyes held an intensity that was difficult to ignore.

He exuded an alluring aura that drew her in like a moth to a flame.

His every movement was filled with irresistible grace and strength, and she was unable to drag her eyes away.

His face, as ever, was chiseled and handsome, exuding a quiet power.

His deep voice commanded attention, silencing any chatter and drawing all focus to him. The dry rasp in his tone only added to his allure.

Taking her seat across from him, Saba tried to be unobtrusive.

She stared at the spread of fruits, pastries, and even fluffy eggs.

He must have cooked.

She had never seen him in the kitchen, and she blinked, surprised at this new development.

She picked a selection of berries, slices of mango, plums, and half a papaya from The Sombra’s hydroponic gardens, accompanied by kahawa , eggs, and a roll.

As she ate and sipped from her cup, she listened to Mak deftly navigate his negotiations-based conversation, impressed by how well he played the delicate game of power and diplomacy.

It was so far removed from her life as a librarian.

She missed her former life as she had enjoyed it.

She had gotten a kick out of being a guardian of knowledge, a curator of stories. Her fingers much preferred dancing over the spines of ancient books and the secrets and wonders they held.

But here, in her husband’s lavish home and his intricate world, she was a fish out of water, unsure how to navigate the dangerous currents of politics and familial expectation.

As she finished the last crumbs of her roll, the holo callers rang off, leaving Saba and Mak alone in the dining room.

He turned to her with a searching gaze.

‘Saba,’ he growled. ‘I trust you slept well?’

‘I did.’

‘Good. I’ve meetings most of today,’ he went on. ‘I can’t be present at the Selse event.’

Wedding festivities in the Akkadian tradition could continue for months following the actual nuptials.

Mak was referring to the post-wedding reception, which took place a few weeks after the nuptials.

One in which the bride and groom attended as their first public reveal to close friends and family.

The bride’s relatives hosted it. The couple was expected to wear their best matching Selse suits, each with an embroidered cape and headpiece embellished with gilded or silver trimmings.

The bridal party and guests also donned traditional robes, and according to convention, greeted the new couple with gold confetti accompanied by drummers, dancers, and chanting.

Tongues would wag if the bridegroom missed the event, and the rumor mill would go into overdrive.

Saba sighed. ‘The family will -.’

‘They’ll lose their shit,’ Mak finished for her. ‘I know. But I have other matters more important to care about than spending the afternoon with a nest of vipers.’

Saba took a deep breath and met his gaze, her mind racing with the implications of his words.

Mak’s absence at such an occasion would raise eyebrows and invite speculation from those who thrived on gossip, discord, and intrigue.

As she gazed into his eyes, she spotted a glimmer of vulnerability beneath the mask of stoicism he wore so well.

She guessed the last thing he needed was a function where he was the focus of pity and commiseration.

Saba decided to take the hit for him.

After all, she owed him.

‘All good,’ she said with a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll handle the celebration in your absence.’

His brow cocked in surprise, a flicker of gratitude crossing his features before he fell back into his usual enigmatic mask.

‘ Sante ,’ he rasped. ‘I appreciate your consideration.’

Their eyes clashed in that moment of silent understanding.

Saba half rose to her feet, then paused, sitting back down.

He noted her hesitation and inclined his head, pursing his lips, waiting for her to share.

She blinked as she held his steady stare. ‘The bride price negotiations, how did they go?’

The pre- and post-nuptial parleying was another crucial aspect of their marriage alliance, a delicate dance of power and wealth that took weeks to finalize.

Mak’s silence spoke volumes as he met her gaze.

‘They were a fokkin ’ challenge,’ he admitted, taking care with his words. ‘But in the end, an agreement was reached that benefits both our families.’

‘Was my uncle trying?’

He regarded her for a moment before answering, a flicker of emotion akin to amusement in his expression.

‘He was demanding, but the terms have been agreed upon, and the matter has been settled. The bride price diamonds are now in his hands, and he, in turn, will support Sauvages when and if we ever face challenges from the Syndicate Council.’

Saba sensed there was more to his words than he let on, a hidden layer of complexity hinting at deeper machinations.

Their union had been forged in the fires of politics and tradition. The negotiations were just another intricate piece in the elaborate game of alliances and power plays that defined their world.

She was nothing but a bargaining chip, a pawn to be moved at the whims of those who held the reins of control.

She tamped down the stab of hopelessness. ‘Was Uncle finally satisfied?’

‘Is he ever?’

The glint in Mak’s eyes told her he understood her relative and regarded him for who he was: a greedy manipulator.

‘Never,’ she breathed.

They exchanged a smile.

‘Yet he has no idea how much he will need to step up for us now on the Council. Our enemies seek what we have at all costs.’

‘Zolan?’

He tilted his head. ‘Indeed.’

She hesitated to repeat or discuss her sister’s lover, sensing his name might drive a wedge between her and Mak.

Not when they had just made some progress.

She chose silence.

He raised a brow.

‘Anything you’d like to share?’ he rasped.

She shook her head.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. ‘I’m a keeper of a great number of secrets beyond our walls, ?arim ; however, within this home, I loathe them. You’re sure you’re withholding more from me?’

Saba jolted, knowing she had one more matter he was unaware of, but speaking would be violating trust and a promise.

She blinked, racking her brain for the best response when Mak’s device rang.

He sliced his eyes to the screen and, with a growl, answered it.

She finished her kahawa and rose to leave the dining room.

She paused at the arched doorway and glanced back.

Already, he was engrossed in the monitor of his comm tab as yet another issue had to be taken care of.

She headed to her bedroom, her thoughts consumed by the upcoming Selse event. It would test her mettle and resolve in the face of scrutiny and judgment.

But she was ready.

She would show them all that behind the delicate facade of a bride lay a woman of strength and back-fokkin-bone .

A woman willing to fight for her place in a world that sought to underestimate her at every turn. No matter what trials awaited her, she would face them with courage and grace.

She was not just a simple-minded woman thrust into a realm of opulence and intrigue.

She was Saba, ?arim of this Order, and she would prove herself worthy of the title she now carried.

MAK

Mak cast a quick, furtive glance at Saba as she left.

His mind was half on the conversation he was having on the comm device as he tracked the sway of her hips and the contrast between her curves and waist.

The rolling motion of her supple thighs as she walked, confident in her femininity, freakin’ turned him on.

Fokk, she was growing on him.

Gazing at her, he felt an unfamiliar serenity settle over him.

It was as though a shard was cracking his armor, one of hope flickering to life in the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

It emanated from an unlikely source.

His wife.

She had a way of calming the storm inside him, giving him a peace that was beyond all understanding.

Despite all his past rage toward her, now her presence soothed him, a balm to the tumult that churned inside his chest.

Along with her stalwart spirit, he’d recognized a vulnerability that tugged at his heartstrings, a fragility beneath the stillness that made him want to protect her at all costs.

He never expected her to be this way.

For years, her family had represented chaos and storm, and he’d anticipated more of their energy from her.

Yet she’d torn apart all his assumptions.

A long time ago, he’d been drawn to excitement and drama once, but not anymore.

What he needed deep inside, when he chose to admit it to himself, was for his ?arim to be the wife and partner who would steady him and bring peace, rather than turmoil, into his world.

Now, more than anything, he craved a woman who would stand by his side through thick and thin. Given their journey so far, it was hard for him to believe.

Yet, as his eyes fell on her silhouette as she walked away, he was inundated with a realization that was heavy with longing and need: she had the spirit to weather the storms alongside him with grace and resilience.

A stab of feeling hit him, and he grudgingly admitted that he wanted to spend more time with her, to know her, to understand what made her tick.

To explore if she was the partner he needed, the presence he yearned for to fortify him for the war ahead.

After breakfast, Mak slipped into his private gym and physical training space. It was where he meditated each morning using the ancient art of rapier play and meditation.

The practice was a core facet of their war dances, the ancient demonstrations of their ferocity and prowess.

Coincidentally, the Akkadians were the most peace-loving people you could find. They abhorred war and hated conflict, even within their own homes.

They kissed three times on the cheek when they met; they said sorry four times when they were wrong.

They never hit their children and always sought peaceful resolutions to disputes.

However, they were not naive. They knew that sometimes force was necessary to protect what they valued.

Mak touched a button on a console in his office, and a secret wall slid back to reveal a mirrored, state-of-the-art gym and training dojo.

Its arched wooden roof and floor-to-ceiling glass outlook provided a breathtaking view that always motivated him and improved his training experience.

Equipment faced the window at one end, allowing one to take in the scenery while exercising.

A luxe lounge with foam rollers, massage balls, and an auto-sauna was in another corner.

The place was fitted with holo cam displays, speakers, and even fitness trackers embedded into the smart mirrors. Designed to stream holo videos, track progress, or blast his favorite tunes to pump to.

With a sigh, Mak stripped down to his shorts, nabbed two rapiers from their stand, and headed to the small beachhead, his little own private beach on the lake.

Stepping onto the sand, he took position, braced, and began cutting them through the air.

Along with his Signet brothers and his Sauvage strongmen, he trained in martial arts that demanded precision, speed, and agility.

They spent two days a week sparring with intensity and focus, their training rigorous and demanding, aiming for perfection in both body and mind.

However, Mak preferred to practice rapier fighting on his own.

It gave him a chance to relax, to indulge in meditation and reflection, seeking enlightenment and understanding in the chaos of the world around him.

The rapiers he wielded gleamed in the light, their polished metal reflecting the sun’s glimmers as they filtered through the trees. He spun and lunged.

The weapons were weightless in his hand, his grip solid, his movements in perfect harmony and synchronicity.

The sound of shifting sand beneath his feet added to the meditative experience. It was a dance of blades and breath, a symphony of movement and stillness, a ritual of mind and body.

As his foil moved in fluid motion, so did his thoughts, finding balance and focus amid chaos and struggle.

He mulled over his mixed feelings about Saba, his worry about the growing Syndicate challenges, and the threat of Nightshade’s influence.

Seeking answers to how he was going to keep it together, unite his people, and give them the fortitude to endure.

His bladed contemplation brought him close to a trance.

With every swing, he became one with the universe, connected to ancient wisdom and the power of the present moment.

Each strike was a step towards inner peace, and every hit released tension and stress.

The sound of metal cutting through the air was a mantra, a sensory meditation that helped soothe away the anxiety and angst in his heart.

Not a bad way to start the day.