Page 85 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

The days preparing for battle were long with all that needed to be done: Battle plans to be discussed and weapons to be made and citizens to be prepared and contingencies to be planned for.

And yet Aya still felt as though time was slipping through her fingers like the fine grains of sand the littered the beach in Rinnia.

She and Will had taken to one of the guest rooms of the palace, but they were up early and to bed late, exhaustion dragging them into sleep so quickly that they hardly had time to say good night.

She tried to steal moments where she could—not just with Will, but with Pa, too, and Josie, and Aidon, and Liam.

With all of them.

She told herself it wasn’t in preparation for the worst, and yet…

she didn’t believe the lie she was telling herself.

She doubted any of them did. The reality of what was coming hung heavily over all of them, lingering like a phantom presence at every quick meal they took together, cutting every stolen laugh far too short.

Aya stretched her legs beneath the table, her muscles aching from the training Galda insisted she do in preparation for facing Evie.

She was in the dining hall, Will seated on one side, Josie on the other, Pa across the table.

She’d laid the tonic-laced dagger on the center of the scratched wood surface, careful to keep it sheathed even while the others examined it.

“And they’re imbuing other weapons with it as well?” Pa asked as he dunked his bread in his soup.

“Some of them,” Aya answered as she picked at her own bowl. Will glanced down, tracking her movements, before he gently pushed the bowl away and handed her a piece of bread instead—as if he knew exactly what her stomach, nervous as it was, could and could not handle.

She gave him a soft smile before turning back to her father. “But Aidon says the bulk of the tonic will be used for the first wave of the attack.”

The first wave for which Aya would not be on the front lines. As if remembering this himself, Pa’s mouth twisted into a bitter frown.

“I don’t like the idea of you using yourself as bait,” he muttered darkly. It was an effort for Aya to refrain from sighing. They’d had this argument already.

“She’ll be well protected, Callias,” Josie assured him. “Between Aidon and Will and her own an abilities, there is nothing to fear.”

Aya shot her friend a grateful look. It had warmed her heart to see Pa welcome her friends into the fold of their family so effortlessly—especially when Josie and Aidon were worried about their own parents and their wellbeing.

A murmur rippled through the dining hall, and Aya turned to see Liam standing in the entrance, a grim set to his mouth. He stepped up on the nearest bench, clearing his throat loudly.

Aya knew, before he even said a word, what this meant.

“Our scouts have returned,” Liam informed the room. “Kakos will reach Dunmeaden tomorrow, just after dawn.”

Tension rippled through the dining hall, but Liam pressed on.

“A unit of soldiers will be guarding the palace gates. All citizens not joining the battle are strongly encouraged to seek shelter behind the palace walls. Evacuations of the city have already begun.”

Liam lifted his chin, his spine ramrod straight as he scanned their faces. “I do not need to remind you what awaits us. Do what you must to ready yourselves tonight. Let there be nothing lingering before dawn breaks.”

The room burst into a loud frenzy of anxious murmurs as Liam finished. It was followed by the harsh scraping of benches across the stone floor as soldiers and citizens alike began to filter from the room.

Aya glanced up at Will as he stood, but he placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“Take your time,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her head. “I have something I need to do. I’ll see you in the room.”

He gave Josie’s shoulder a squeeze and bid her father good night before he strolled from the hall.

“I should go, too,” Josie said as she pushed away her soup. “See if I can’t find Aidon and convince him to take a break and eat something.”

“Are you sure you want to go searching for him?” Aya asked, hiding her smile in her goblet as she took a long sip of water. “Last I saw him, he seemed rather preoccupied with Dauphine.”

Josie’s nose wrinkled as she shoved Aya’s shoulder. “Thanks for that visual.” She paused, then fixed Aya with a smirk. “I’ll just have to go find my own source of entertainment then. Good night, Callias!”

Aya watched as Josie headed straight for where Aleissande was conversing with Liam. Pa’s soft chuckle nestled in her chest like a warm ember, especially as he added, “I like your friends.”

There was something else beneath his words.

She found it lingering in his eyes as she met his gaze.

She wondered if he was missing Tova, too, if that constant ache of her absence worsened for him when he caught himself enjoying the company of others and forgetting, just for a small moment, that Tova was not here to do so as well.

He had, after all, known Tova since she was a child.

Pa reached across the table, his hand warm as it found hers. “Her spirit is with you, mi couera ,” he murmured. She didn’t know how he still managed to know her so well, especially after years of her hiding within herself.

But Pa—gentle Pa—had always had a way of seeing beneath the surface. She’d long wondered if it came with his affinity—if being a Terra had taught him how to see the potential in things. The growth.

The beauty buried beneath the soil.

“I miss her so much that sometimes, it hurts to breathe,” Aya admitted quietly, her free hand wiping at the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“And I know it wasn’t my fault, but it still feels like it sometimes.

I couldn’t…I couldn’t help her. She died right in front of me, and I couldn’t stop it. ”

Pa’s thumb dragged over the back of her hand, his skin rough from his years of tending his garden. “You carry too much, Aya. You always have. It’s the curse of your big heart.” He squeezed her hand again, his own eyes bright. “You get that from your mother.”

A strangled noise caught in Aya’s throat, half laugh, half sob, as that place deep inside her ached and ached.

Gods, she missed them both.

“I thought it was my fault,” she admitted to her father. “My persuasion burst from me when we argued, and I told her to leave and…I don’t know if I forced her to do it.”

“Oh, Aya,” Pa sighed. “You cannot even fathom the depths of love a parent has for one’s child. No force in this world would have been able to tear her away from you if she was determined to stay.”

His smile was sad. “Your mother made the best choice she could for our family. And that choice was to get on that boat.” He stroked her hand again, a steady swipe that kept her present. “Just like your choice is to put yourself in danger for the betterment of this realm.”

A tear finally fell from Pa’s eyes, dripping traitorously down his cheek. “You truly are your mother’s daughter. And I am so proud of you—as she would be, too.”

***

Aya sighed as she stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the wood, letting the tension seep from her muscles while she took in Will. He was hunched over the small table they’d turned into a desk, scribbling furiously across a piece of parchment.

“More formations?” she asked. Her limbs felt heavy, her movements slowed by the exhaustion that seemed woven into her very being.

“No,” Will muttered. He scanned the parchment before he tossed the quill down, exhaling as he sat back against the couch. His hair was mussed, but it didn’t stop him from dragging ink-stained fingers through it. “Final will and testament.”

Aya tensed at the mere thought. But Will smiled wryly and gave a blithe shrug. “Can’t take the merchant out of the man, I suppose.”

She tried to keep her voice calm as she pushed herself off the door and crossed the room to him.

“Oh? And what exactly are you bequeathing?” She slid onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips as she locked her arms around his neck.

Will’s hands slid up her thighs, his head tipping back as he gave her a slow grin.

“I do have money saved, you know.”

“Oh I know. I’ve seen your fancy wardrobe,” Aya teased. She ducked her head, her lips pausing a breath from his. “It screams wealth.”

“And here I thought you liked the way I dress.”

Aya slid her hand from his neck to his shirt, her fingers dragging across the fabric until she found the buttons. “I think I like you better without clothes, actually.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” Will muttered.

But he surged up anyways, capturing her mouth in a devastating kiss.

There was nothing slow in the movement of his lips against hers, nothing gentle in the tug of Aya’s hands against the buttons of his shirt.

Her exhaustion vanished, and in its place was a frenzied need to feel every bit of him.

Her impatience won out, and she ripped the buttons from their seams.

All of that fear, all of that desperation they’d been trying to keep at bay…it came roaring to the surface, manifesting in their movements as they reached for each other.

Aya pulled away to push Will’s shirt off his shoulders, her lips trailing down his neck as she shoved at the fabric. Will’s hands were everywhere: her hair, her waist, the swell of her ass, her face.

It was like he couldn’t decide where to linger, like he couldn’t pick just one part of her to hold.

Like he knew this could very well be their last time.

The thought had Aya drawing back, her hand gripping his chin to still him.

“What is it?” he asked, his breath coming in shallow pants. Aya stared into his eyes—wide and fearful—before she pressed a long, tender kiss to his lips. Her fingers moved to the lapels of his shirt again, but this time, she kept her movements slow.

Purposeful.

She dropped his shirt on the floor, her hands finding his skin again, tracing the dips of his abs as she trailed up his torso.

She felt the moment he let the tension coiled tight within him release.

His shoulders lowered as her hands slid over them, his breath shuddering from his chest as he sank further back into the cushions.

When his hands found her hips again, they were steady and firm, his kiss less frantic but no less passionate.

Aya gasped as he moved her against him, heat flooding her stomach as his hands guided her hips. Will’s tongue flicked against hers as he wrapped an arm around her and stood. Aya’s legs locked around his waist, her fingers combing through his hair as he walked them to the bed.

He laid her down with heartbreaking gentleness, his hands skimming up her sides until he found the hem of her shirt.

She pushed herself up as he tugged it off, her pants following shortly behind.

Will kept his gaze on her as he flicked the button of his own trousers open and stepped out of the fabric.

She reached for him as soon as his knee hit the mattress, unable to bear not touching him for more than a few moments.

Her hands tingled as they found his warm skin, her throat clogging with emotion as Will kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.

He swallowed down every single noise of pleasure he pulled from her as his hands played her body like it was an instrument made especially for him, his fingers stroking her clit steadily, his touch lighting up every part of her.

Her breath snagged in her chest when he finally, finally slid into her, her legs wrapping around his waist so she could drag him even closer, until his hips were pressed flush to hers.

Every bit of what she was feeling was reflected on Will’s face as he stared down at her, his breath trembling through parted lips.

Aya raised a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped.

“Fight with me,” she whispered.

Will pressed a long, lingering kiss to the center of her palm, right over her newly formed scar.

“Always,” he promised.