Page 31 of A War of Three Kings

Aldrin and his people needed little time to recover after my father freed them from their abuse and imprisonment. Bile creeps up my throat, threatening to make me a retching, shaking mess at the very thought of the horrors they endured because of me.

The sounds of metal clanging off metal and heavy boots striking pavers echo throughout the courtyard, bouncing off the stone walls and porticos that encircle it on all sides.

The air is stifled here, except for the odd gust of wind when someone attempts an air wield, and it carries the strong scent of masculine sweat. I wrinkle my nose at it.

The training looks like pure chaos from up here, the groups often merging as the human soldiers stop to grumble to each other or stand there with arms crossed, refusing to engage.

Aldrin catches my eye as he pairs with Liam, an Appleshield guard. A burst of complex emotions ripples through me. My heart skips a beat with elation at having him so near, speeds up with anger at all the lies and half-truths he told me, and aches with longing that is pierced by guilt.

I want to reach out and touch him, but there is a glacier between us.

I watch Aldrin’s exchange with Liam like my life depends on it, soaking up every detail. Their blunted swords strike each other slowly at first, attacking and blocking. Their attacks and parries become faster and faster, the blades flying and their feet moving like a dance.

“Fix your air wield,” Aldrin orders. “Distribute the reinforcing magic evenly across your blade, or your sword will snap.”

Liam’s blue eyes narrow in sheer determination.

“Faster,” Aldrin calls. “Wield air behind your legs and arms to push your body to greater speeds. It will take longer to tire as well.”

Liam’s features set as he concentrates. I have hunted alongside him many times, but I have never seen him move this fast. Aldrin is going incredibly easy on him.

They are a mesmerizing sight to behold. Where Aldrin is all dark features and sharp angles, broad and heavily muscular, Liam is golden-haired with an almost feminine quality to his handsome face and lean build.

Neither wears a shirt, and both glisten with sweat as the midmorning sun bears down on them.

I can’t drag my eyes away from the ripple and roll of the perfectly chiseled muscles of Aldrin’s shoulders and arms, and that ridged abdomen.

The memory plagues me of what it feels like to run my fingers down it, lower and lower, dipping beneath the waistband of hispants. To sink my fingernails into the hard planes of his back while he lies over me, his face just inches from mine as he takes me hard.

The beautiful planes of his face are ethereal compared to the humans around him. That narrow jaw, those high cheekbones, that amber gaze that once simmered with heat whenever it fell on me.

The sudden reminder of the loss of everything we had is enough to make the air whoosh out of my chest, and I can’t seem to drag in another breath to replace it.

A woman sighs beside me. I turn to find my sister Brianna has materialized on silent feet. Or perhaps I was too engrossed by the display before me to notice her.

“Are you sure you’re still angry with Aldrin?” she says in a wistful half-whisper.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I say in a huff.

Betrayal and hurt tumble through me, and it feels like I am freefalling into a black pit of bitterness, one I may never crawl out of again. It was born of the lies I thought Aldrin had told me, and it has mingled with the pure rage I feel toward my father and grandmother.

My emotions have become a confused, entangled mess. A snarling beast that lashes out in every direction.

Anger is such a simple word to sum it all up. I don’t know if I am entitled to it after everything, but it is there, deep within my heart.

Aldrin should have told me he had fought a battle with my father before he took me to his bed. I deserved to know of this prophecy from the beginning. It dictates my fate as much as his. The trust is wounded between us, because I now have to wonder what else he isn’t telling me.

But half of my fury is directed at myself. I failed Aldrin when he needed me, and whenever I acknowledge that simple truth, I cannot look him in the eye.

Aldrin pauses in his attack on Liam to give the Appleshield guard more instructions. His gaze flicks up at me, and his broad eyebrows crash down in a severe frown before he disregards me completely. It is like a slap in the face.

Brianna nudges me in the ribs. “Stop scowling at him.”

“Me?” I turn on her. “He’s that one who’s scowling!”

“Such a waste,” she murmurs. “He traveled across realms because you called him and has volunteered to fight a battle that isn’t his, just to protect you. No strings attached. It’s very romantic.”

I give her a sidelong look. At sixteen, she is too young to be talking of romance. “Brianna, this isn’t one of your novels. It’s more complicated than all that.”

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