37. THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-SEVEN
Mina
Darius has officially gone mad. He swings with zero reservation, and I barely pull my sword up in time to parry his blade, the impact so hard I nearly drop to my knees. “What in the world are you doing?”
He slides back into a defensive stance with practiced ease. “You offered your soldiers a one-on-one in any area. I want to make sure your sword skills are adequate for such an offer.”
All night I have listened to people tear down my home and judge my choices on everything from clothes to politics. All night I have held my tongue for the sake of the women in training, letting my irritation build like a wave before it breaks on shore.
Darius’s words are the tipping point. He’s witnessed me fight already. He knows damn well I can handle a blade, and this little stunt to distract me isn’t going to work.
“I’m not playing your games.”
I try to throw down the sword, but before I can, Darius lunges for my throat. I use it to block his attack, the wood vibrating in my hand from the force.
“Good. Because I’m not playing,” he says.
Darius swings for my ribs. I parry, spinning out of his reach. His eyes narrow with the same focus he had on the battlefield. “You’d rather return to the festival and listen to those assholes?”
By criticizing me, they also criticized Darius’s choice. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s angry. If he needs to let off some steam, then beating him is the least I can do. I pull off my mask and throw it behind me.
“Fine. Assess me then.”
I lunge, using my longer blade to close the distance, but he dodges easily with the flick of his sword. We adjust our stances and circle each other slowly. I won’t underestimate his strength and dexterity. Darius is as well-rounded as a fighter can be, but everyone has a weakness.
With each swing and thrust, our wooden blades cry out, but no crowd appears. We wield them with the force of metal and blood, yet they do not break. He strikes and I counter, then the roles reverse.
Our dance of rage seems never-ending. If only I had chosen the dual shorter blades, this fight might be over already.
Darius’s shoulder hitches for the briefest moment, but I ignore it.
He’ll expect me to take advantage of that opening.
I want to find a new weakness. If I cannot beat my husband, then I stand no chance against Zala.
The man in front of me is just as ruthless when he wants to be and matched in skill.
I will not lose.
I let my foot slip on the grass, pretending to lose a step, baiting Darius to take the opening. When he slashes forward toward my stomach, I shift to the side and aim for his hands. It’s a dirty trick, but if he wants a real fight, I’ll give him one.
My sword misses his fingers by an inch. Darius growls and glares at the impact, but I swear a hint of pride peeks through. On his next lunge, I jump back, putting some distance between us.
“Enough child’s play. Show me what makes Kalisham warriors so feared.”
I was always taught not to let anger get the best of me in a fight. My temper runs hot, but I mastered it early on. I know perfectly well Darius is goading me into a foolish move, yet his words are like water on an oil fire.
My blood boils. I let the rage pull me toward him. I use my speed to close the distance and meet his blade more times than he can handle. The sudden burst sets him off balance, and when his foot slides back to stabilize his stance, I pounce.
I move my sword into position above my head and bring the blade down with the force of every emotion I’ve caged since leaving home. All the hurt and fear, anger and grief. Every harsh word and judgment. Every tear I cried. All of it surges into one final strike with a roar.
Darius’s blade flies up just in time to stop mine from bludgeoning his skull. The impact cracks like thunder on a stormy night, sending wood fragments outward. Both our swords are broken, taking my control with them. My chest heaves in frustration.
A draw.
Darius sets down what’s left of his sword and gently pries away the remnants of mine, placing it next to his on the ground. My skin feels like it’s being held to a fire. I suck in shallow breaths, trying to regain my composure.
I don’t protest when Darius cups my cheeks. I don’t even realize I’m crying until his thumb brushes away the tears I’ve held back since the night Zala sent his gift.
I have channeled all my energy toward surviving the tour and returning home, training soldiers and gathering my strength. I locked my emotions in a cage for fear that they would pull me under like a violent wave.
But I am so tired of trying to pretend that I feel nothing. Tired of pretending to be fine when I am anything but. I miss my family. I miss my home. And for the past few weeks, I missed Darius.
He saw through my act, patiently waiting for me to face it, yet I kept him at a sword’s length. He is stubborn and infuriating and somehow knew exactly what I needed to break free.
My tears flow harder, a sob catching in my throat. He tucks me into his chest, and the immediate comfort I find there undoes me completely. I lose it.
I have no idea how long we stay here, me sobbing in his arms while he traces small, soothing circles on my back. The unexpected gentleness only ruins me further.
Eventually my sobs quiet to hiccups. I try to pull away, but Darius locks me against his body. His chest rises with a deep breath.
“May I touch you?”
I want to point out that he already is, but I know that isn’t what he’s asking. He drops his forehead against mine, eyes searching, waiting with an understanding that warms me all the way to my toes.
My heart skips a beat, more terrified of that look than any attack he made.
But all my reasons to say no lie shattered with our swords. I don’t have it in me to pretend I don’t want him, need him.
My nod is all it takes for Darius to sweep me into his arms. He carries me into the inn and sets a small sack of coin down on the counter.
“A room with a private bath. It’s been a long day.”
The innkeeper startles, dropping her book. “We—um, we are all booked for the festivities.”
A second sack of coins clangs against the counter. Not all the rooms have been assigned yet and won’t be until our soldiers break into groups to settle in for the night.
She smiles and fingers the small fortune. “Room 13. Up the stairs at the end.”
Without so much as a thank you, he grabs the key and carries me away. With impressive dexterity, he unlocks the door and maneuvers us into the washroom without dropping me. He sets me on the edge of the tub and turns a silver knob to start the steaming water.
I watch with veiled interest as he strips down to just his pants and sinks into the water, his corded muscles flexing as he leans back. He is so unfairly gorgeous.
Darius nods at the space in front of him, and the intensity of his gaze makes me shiver.
It’s not too late to walk away, to ignore his silent command.
Instead, I unbutton my dress and let it drop to the floor, leaving only a thin lavender chemise. Darius watches with rapt attention as I step into the water. I try to sit across from him, but two strong arms pull me closer.
Water splashes over the edges of the tub as he tucks me against his broad chest, locking his arms around my torso. I try to scoot away, but he holds me tighter until I give in with a sigh.
“What are you doing?”
“Relaxing.” He turns off the faucet when the water reaches our chests.
The heat of the bath and Darius’s body are like a comfy blanket. Mental and physical exhaustion compete for first place as I let my head fall against his shoulder and close my eyes. The silence is comfortable. Like a well run dry, I have nothing left in me but to simply be here.
My body fits his perfectly, like a scabbard custom-cut to house a sword. I place my hand over his and intertwine our fingers. A strange sense of peace falls over me every time I’m in his arms, and for the first time since that damned box arrived, I feel safe.
I try to ignore the accompanying grief and relax, but sometimes these little moments of peace feel like a betrayal to my family. How can I be happy when they are gone? Unavenged? How can I deserve this?
You deserve the world, my Mina. Father’s voice cuts through the doubt, his familiar words easing my guilt. I thought I ran out of tears, but a few spill over. The ache in my chest is like a well that never truly empties.
So did you, I pray to them. All of you. I’m sorry.
“They’re wrong, you know,” Darius says, his voice a soft rumble against my back.
Did he hear my thoughts? Does he also think I’m undeserving for whatever has blossomed between us? This connection I worked so hard to keep at bay?
“Everyone who spoke ill of you today. Of your home. They’re wrong.”
I twist to face him. Darius’s eyes are closed, his head resting against the back of the tub, trust on full display. If I wanted to kill him right now, he would have no time to react. The weight of that knowledge fills my stomach with butterflies.
“My mother was treated the same way,” he says.
“The second queen was favored by everyone. Once she poisoned their minds against my mother, they whispered behind her back too. Mother smiled and bore it, but I know it got to her.” He swallows and opens his eyes, grief shining through the usual anger. “They’re wrong about both of you.”
“What happened to her?” He avoided the question last time, but I need to know after baring my soul to him. “You know the reasons for my vengeance, yet I don’t even know your mother’s name.”
Darius studies me in silence before clearing his throat. “Her name was Veloria.”
He named the empire after his mother. “Now the whole world will revere her name,” I whisper.
He nods and suddenly the scattered pieces of his personality fit together. He loves his mother as much as I love my family. His vengeance was the same as my own. No wonder he understands my grief so perfectly—he lived it.
I rest my hand on his chest, and his heart thunders under my touch. I don’t expect him to share more, but he’s full of surprises tonight.
“Her throat was slit.” His arms tighten around me, and I like the idea that I might offer him the same comfort. “The second queen made it look like a suicide, but there’s no way she would’ve taken her own life. She wouldn’t have left me alone with that snake.”
He takes a deep breath before continuing.
“My mother pretended to be a pushover. She let the queen and her children abuse her verbally and physically. But she never let them touch me. She was my shield until the end. I used to think she was so weak, but now I know she was stronger than anyone gave her credit for.”
“Strength isn’t always something we can see.”
“I see yours.”
My heart rages against my rib cage. The strange pressure in my chest tightens, so heavy and light at the same time, like a forge fire melting steel into something new.
“People here are slow to accept what’s different, even when it’s better for them. But you face them head-on. You brought more change with your heart than I have with my sword.”
I shake my head, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“Yes. No matter how difficult life may become, you, Mina Ardeshir of Kalisham, can handle anything.”
“What if I’m not as strong as you think I am?” I whisper, afraid to give my fears a voice.
“You are.” His certainty is unwavering. He closes his eyes and relaxes against the tub. “But for the days you don’t feel like it, you can rely on my strength. For as long as you’ll have me, I’m here for you.”
Darius squeezes my hand, and when his warm brown eyes flick open, they find mine instantly. The affection there grounds me.
He took all my reasons not to trust him and broke them down little by little until all that remained was us. Two jagged souls perfectly aligned.
I lean forward and press my lips against his, soft and searching. The warmth that suffuses every nerve and heartbeat holds my answer. He makes me feel worthy of whatever this is. Worthy of a life on the other side of the grave I dug for myself alongside Zala.
There is no point in fighting the truth anymore.
I am falling for my husband.
Darius is dangerous in so many ways: as a strategist, a politician, a swordsman, and a leader. None of which poses a threat to me. But Darius at his most heartfelt…
I slide forward and straddle him, needing to be closer. I kiss him again, tasting and teasing, drunk on the feeling that I can. He grows harder beneath me, an outward mirror to my own desire.
This is more than lust though. I want him in ways I shouldn’t. His heart. His serious, broody side. His soft, caring side. I want all of him with a possessiveness that unnerves me.
I try to deepen the kiss, but he pushes me back a little. “Mina,” he growls, a warning and a plea.
His eyes flicker, searching mine for permission. I smile against his lips and kiss him again. He groans, fingers digging into my hips.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asks, pushing me back a torturous inch until our bodies hover just out of reach. Cautious hope fills his smirk. “Okay what?”
I try to move closer, but he holds me in place. His eyes darken as he waits for my reply. For permission for what comes next.
Damn my own rules.
“Darius.” I kiss him gently. Heat pools low in my belly. “Touch me.”