At first, Saga tried to justify her actions to herself as returning a favor. Kassandr, after all, had helped her through her panic on many occasions. But at some point, her reasons ceased to matter. Her feet simply carried her to his room; her mind was too exhausted to fight against it. What did anything matter, when tomorrow might be their last?
This was now the fourth consecutive night that Saga found herself standing at Kassandr’s closed door. It was silent inside. A strange combination of smoke and cabbage soup clung to Saga’s skin, and her muscles screamed with exhaustion. A day spent scurrying from one task to the next was a far cry from her usual pastimes—reading and drawing and keeping to the shadows. Amid a siege, the shadows were simply not an option. There was always something to do, be it ladling cabbage soup or grinding poultice herbs. And there wasalways someone coming to her with questions. Saga still wanted to laugh when they looked at her as though she had the answers. But to her great surprise, she often did havesomethingto tell them. And each time she helped mitigate a problem, her budding sense of pride grew a little larger.
Midmorning, thick gray clouds had rolled over the city and sent flurries of snow down upon them. It had been a blessing in disguise for the Zagadkians, as the snow melted and soaked the hides and seaweed draped on Kovograd’s fortress and city walls anew.
“Old Man Winter has come to our aid,” a kitchen worker had proclaimed.
Indeed, the Urkans had pulled back on their relentless warfire assault as the snow dampened the fire’s effectiveness. This had allowed those sheltering within the fortress walls a moment to breathe. But only a moment, and then they shifted their focus to healing and feeding the constant stream of cold and injured warriors. Each time a new figure limped through the doorway, Saga had searched for a familiar set of green eyes. Yet the entire day had passed and there’d been no sign of Kassandr.
Her hand now hovered over the latch, the need to know if he was all right prickling through her. With a quick breath, Saga opened the door.
The room was lit, everything precisely as it had been that morning. Unbidden, Saga approached the bed. Ran her hand along the furs. He should be here by now. Had harm befallen him?
“Where are you, Kassandr?” she whispered, the knots in her stomach tightening.
The logical part of her reminded Saga the foolish man had stolen her and brought this danger to his kingdom. But the illogical part of her could think only of how dim the world would feel without him.
Saga sank onto the bed, closing her eyes, as his scent surrounded her.
It wasn’t a few minutes later that a growl shook the fortress walls. Saga’s spine straightened in recognition. The menacing sounds grew nearer, men’s shouting voices joining in. And before Saga knewwhat was happening, Kassandr’s beast form was shoved into the room, that vile snare looped around his neck. The snare released him, then the door slammed shut. Her heart hammered violently as the latch slid into place.
And then Saga was alone with the Beast of Zagadka. He bayed and snarled, throwing his enormous body against the locked door. She knew she ought to be afraid, but the only emotion Saga felt was relief.
He wasalive.
The beast grew suddenly preternaturally still, and she knew he’d sensed her.
“Kassandr?” she said softly, and his shaggy, snarling maw whipped toward her. “Come here. Let me help you.”
A low whine came from deep within his chest, and this time, he needed no convincing. His gnarled claws tapped the floor as he hobbled toward her, and as he neared, she gasped. Blood matted his fur, and not all of it was from his enemies.
“You’re injured,” said Saga. The beast climbed onto the bed, smearing red across the fine blankets as he crawled toward her. As though he’d used his last vestiges of strength, Kassandr collapsed, the full weight of his head landing hard on her lap. His muscles spasmed, and he flinched as though in pain. But tonight, there was more than his anger and pain. There was a profound sense of weariness that made it clear today’s battle had been hard.
Saga’s fingers drifted to the joint of his shoulder, and she began the rhythmic taps while humming softly. Gradually, Kassandr’s muscles eased, and she sensed his humanity drifting back. And after some time had passed, the air suddenly shuddered. Kassandr’s spines and claws retracted, fur transitioning to smooth human flesh. Soon a very naked Kassandr Rurik lay on the bed.
Saga blinked, then averted her gaze, though the sight of him was imprinted on the backs of her eyelids. Curled on his side, Kassandr’s limbs were long, his shoulders broad, and every inch of him looked hardened from hours with a sword in hand. Saga’s hands flexed with the urge to skim her fingertips through the dusting ofdark hair on his firm, golden chest. Yet somehow, she managed to keep them to herself.
“My Winterwing,” murmured Kassandr, rolling on his back and staring up at her. “Once more, you have come to my rescue.” The man was completely exposed to her—and utterly unbothered.
Against her better judgment, Saga snuck another glance. But rather than what was between his legs, her gaze snagged on the countless wounds along his arms and torso.
“You’re hurt!” Saga shimmied out from beneath him, then fetched a pitcher of water from the sideboard. “Come here,” she ordered, patting the edge of the bed.
“Yesli moya koroleva potrebuyet etogo,[*]” purred Kassandr, rising up on his knees and—
Saga slammed her eyes shut. “Gods above, Kassandr. Cover yourself, I beg of you.”
“Is not kind of begging I hoped for, but I will obey all the same.”
Saga’s cheeks were on fire as the mattress moved and fabric rustled.
“I am covered,” said Kassandr.
Hardly,Saga wanted to scoff as she took in the loose breeches belted at his waist. She approached, dipping a scrap of linen into the water jug. Slowly, she stepped between his spread legs. Her skin buzzed at his nearness, her heart pounding at the expanse of bare chest before her. For a single, dizzying moment, she imagined what that bare chest might feel like pressed against her own. How the weight of him might feel atop her. But his wounds were seeping, and she quickly dabbed at one with the linen. Her fingers grazed dangerously close to the place on his chest she’d imagined touching just moments before, sending her heart beating in sharp, fast strikes. Saga glanced up at Rurik, and could tell from his tired smile that he could hear her racing heart.
“What happened today?” she asked, to divert his attention from her body’s foolish response.
“City walls have fallen.” Kassandr’s voice was uncharacteristically flat, and Saga did not like it one bit. “Urkan siege tower is…” He shook his head. “Impossible. Their archers pick off my warriors while hiding behind the iron plates. Is dishonorable way to fight.”
