She was still breathtakingly beautiful, her moon-white hair swirling behind her as she swung and parried with such speed, unnatural even for a fae. Jewels studded her ears, from the soft lobe to the pointed tip, and there were gemstones braided into her hair as well. A queen, yes. But something else, something more.
A warrior battled before me, deadly curved blades held with loving ease as they swiped at her opponent. She’d traded the revealing gown for leather leggings and a cropped tunic that revealed a swath of pale skin around her midsection. The longer I looked, the more I recognized. The leather armor she wore was an approximation of my own, modified to fit her luscious curves.
Not just luscious, but deadly. I knew precisely where I’d fit her in my legion. But she fought without magic… what was her power? The abrupt disappearance from the great hall—why did she not manifest that same power in battle?
The answer came to me as I watched the duel barreling toward climax.
She did not need to.
Thatwas how skilled she was.
She did not flinch when her opponent brought his blade down at a sharp, sudden angle. But I did.
My axe was in my hand before I formed the thought. Instinct guided my movements, experience paired with fury that sprang from a well inside of me deeper than any I’d accessed before.
The growl ripped from my throat, reverberating through the training courtyard. A fucking mistake, a warning to my enemies.
Her cry of ire battled mine, ricocheting off of the ancient, moss-covered stones. Her blade swiped across her opponent’s side, the rich sent of blood flooding my senses. He staggered backward, out of range of my axe. I was so focused on him that I missed her attack entirely. She struck my chin with enough forceto send my head reeling back. I struggled to right myself—Fuck!Pain sliced through my kneecaps.
I staggered, axe useless in my hand. I shoved it upward anyway, the instinct to protect my head and throat ingrained by three hundred years of battlefield slaughter. But no more blows came.
I kept my feet, but only just.
She’d tried to swipe my knees out from under me. The growl built in my chest, the beast inside of me insistent. Fine—I’d shift. I’d give in and—what? What would I do?
Fuck. Hardened battle commander? I was a fool.
This warrior queen had not only defended herself from attack, but she’d fought me off as well. She’d thought I was attacking her, not trying to save her.
What in the Ancestors’ living hell did that say about our supposed marriage?
Our cries and growls had faded to nothing, leaving behind only ragged breathing. Mine was as tortured as hers, my chest moving in time with the rise and fall of her own as I dragged my gaze up her body to her face.
Her eyes—how had I not noticed them instantly? They raged with blue fire. She was an elemental, she ought to have been able to dissemble. But either the emotions were too much or she wasn’t bothering to hide them as they blazed in her eyes. Anger and frustration, but that was not all. A bright circle glowed around the center of the black pupils. The one thing she could not hide, even had she been trying. The glow of desire.
She felt it too.
The pull of her gaze was magnetic. My heart beat faster, the tangle in my chest solidifying into something almost tangible. If I looked down, I might see the thread that stretched from my chest to hers, connecting us inexplicably.
Except it had been explained to me. She was my mate. This feeling in my chest, this compulsion, was the mating bond making itself known. My fingers ached, urging me to reach out and touch her. That was ludicrous. She’d just shoved me backward, almost knocked me on my ass in front of half of Eilean Gayl.
Terrestrials lined the battlements. Her own companion, an elemental dressed in ornamental goldstone, watched us with arms crossed over her chest. The white faerie who’d dogged my steps since Avalon hovered at the golden one’s side.
But I noted all these details without really internalizing them. They were part of the landscape, the periphery of relevance. I was aware in the way I might be on a battlefield of the fighting happening around me. Just enough attention to ward off threats, but not enough to distract from the challenge directly in front of me.
My mate.
To my right, someone scuffled and sighed. Her defeated opponent, sent sprawling across the flagstones on the far side of the training ring.
The male grumbled. “What the Ancestors—Arran.”
Ripping my gaze away from her was almost painful. But I knew that voice. I recognized the figure clambering to his feet. “Barkke.”
My longtime friend, sometimes rival, brushed the dirt off of his ass where she’d thrown him into the dirt. He winced as he stood, which is when I remembered the scent of blood. She’d slashed at his side. A minor wound, knitting back together even as Barkke approached, eyes wary. But his words belied the caution in his gaze.
“I would tell you that you looked well, but terrestrials don’t lie,” Barkke said, clapping me on the shoulder. Very few would have dared. Certainly not a member of the terrestrial armies.But Barkke had known me since childhood, and obviously felt himself entitled to certain intimacies. Which is why he dared to add, “You look like utter shit.”
Slowly, so slowly, I turned my head to look at where his broad hand rested on my shoulder.
