Page 8 of Vows of Sacrifice

With that, I entered through the open portcullis.

* * *

Once back in the office, I settled into the king’s chair. A king I murdered. He had died a warrior, with honour, sword in hand. I let out a grunt.

“Boy!” I cried.

I didn’t need to call him twice.

“Yes, my lord?” he inquired, slightly out of breath.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Massim, my lord.”

“Help me take off my armour, Massim.”

“Alright, my lord.”

He complied, and rather ably, I had to admit.

“You can go. No, wait a minute. Bring me some food and a tub of fresh water. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Then I took off my sweat-soaked shirt. There was no need for me to make the return journey in my full breastplate. My surcoat and armguard would suffice. Someone knocked on the door as I lit my cigar, the rolled leaves of which contained a powerful drug. Without it, I couldn’t curb my urge to kill.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, my lord.”

That voice . . . I stiffened but refrained from turning in its direction.

“You should be packing your things,” I asserted, before taking a long, life-saving drag.

“I’m going to, but just before I do, I’d like to thank you.”

I gave her a sidelong glance. What did she want to thank me for? For saving her life?

“As your husband, it’s my job to protect you from now on. You don’t have to thank me for that.”

She shook her head slowly and, for a moment, I found myself captivated by the fluid movements of her curls. Her hair had a curious effect on me. I longed to run my fingers through its rich, silky mass.

“No. For banning . . . for forbidding rape. To your soldiers.”

This time, I turned around to face her. I saw her glance at my cigar before her gaze returned to mine.

“I don’t encourage this practice, but I must confess, I’ve never really given it much thought. My aim is to fight and win, period.”

It was strange. She kept staring straight into my eyes. People usually avoided this because they’d quickly become uncomfortable, so why was my wife . . . Oh. I understood and smiled. I was shirtless. As one thought led to another, I remembered our kiss. I could already hear Paivrin lecturing me on my lack of delicacy.

“I suppose so. But I wanted to thank you because you were under no obligation.”

I tilted my head to one side and studied her carefully, then took another puff.

“What is that?” she finally asks, point-blank.

Ashana was pointing at my cigar.

“Some kind of . . . medicine,” I said evasively, continuing to scrutinize her.

“Medicine? Are you ill?”

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