23. TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-THREE
Mina
The carriage thrusts to the side, jostling me out of a restless nap. I rub my hips, kneading the sore muscles as I curse the uneven ground.
“Damn this carriage.” The horses let out a similar protest.
My whole body aches after being trapped in this plush enclosure for three days. We’ve only visited one territory to the east so far, a small fief given to one of Darius’s commanders who lost his leg early on in the war.
Lord Edalite and his husband welcomed us for the night. Those stone halls were my last chance to truly move about, but too small to do any real training. Since then, I have been confined to a few minutes of stretching when the caravan rests.
I can only imagine how bad the others feel given the size of their accommodations. My carriage is the largest and by far the coziest. I offered to let the ladies ride with me in turn, but they all politely declined. The royal carriage is for the emperor and his bride.
I wonder if they fear the attention. Lady Hunter’s absence has not gone unnoticed. We kept the story short but truthful, explaining that she attempted to kill us on our wedding night and paid with her life.
No further questions were asked, but Jaime and the others notice the way I dip my hand in the water now before each bath. Carnation-scented items are permanently banned from my nightly routine as well.
Even the memory of the flower summons a wave of nausea.
At least I’m suffering on my own. Darius is a man of his word. He’s been the picture of diplomacy since I forbade him from kissing me. He spends most of our journey on horseback, inspecting the caravan at odd intervals.
He keeps our interactions to a minimum except when appearances need to be kept up. We still share a bed, be it in a tent or a room at one of our stops, but neither of us finds peace enough to rest for very long.
I’m not even sure he’s slept in my presence at all. I curse myself every time I am weak enough to sleep in his.
At least the nightmares stay away. The last thing I need is to wake up a sobbing mess in front of the deadliest man on the continent. Tears are hardly a weakness, but he warned me against them in front of others.
I peek out the thin white curtains and squint at the sun shining through the trees.
Guards ride on horseback on either side of the carriages.
A sea of men in blue with silver armor, save one.
His midnight-black uniform sets him apart.
It’s the only reason my eyes seek him out among the group. Nothing more.
The lie feels hollow as the sight of Darius sends a wave of goose bumps across my skin. His kiss was deplorable, ungentlemanly, and completely one-sided.
Until I climbed him like a sturdy tree and kissed him back.
Hard muscle from years of training fit against my own like two pieces of a puzzle. Who knows how far I would’ve pushed things if Lady Hunter hadn’t interrupted us. Nothing about that night went to plan.
I bury my face in my hands to muffle a groan.
Kissing Darius cannot happen again, yet my body actively fights the notion. I am hyperaware of him, and not just because he could kill me in a heartbeat. A wiser person would be afraid, not aroused.
Every time our eyes meet, gentle flames caress my whole body, and my traitorous heart thrums louder than the drums of war.
At least I hide it well. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing his snide comment about me begging for his touch is an offer my body wants to cash in on.
After our wedding night, a part of me takes comfort in his solid presence, even if I don’t trust him fully. How can I, when he’s shared nothing about himself?
How can he expect us to be intimate when he won’t let me see behind his mask for more than a brief moment? I won’t be fooled by the secrets of another man.
After another hour of riding, we arrive at an open plain. Fields stretch out in every direction for miles, offering little protection but great lines of sight for an impending attack.
Darius calls for us to stop and make camp. My instructions are to stay put until our tent is prepared, but like usual, I treat it as a suggestion.
I reach toward the sky and stretch out the stitch in my ribs.
My muscles beg for any movement, so I make my way to a supply wagon where soldiers and staff collect their tents.
They are tan, small enough for only two to three people, and horrible at keeping out the heat.
Most sleep with their flaps open to let in the breeze.
The line stretches the length of the caravan, and the station master relishes noting down each bundle taken before passing out the next. Irritation rolls off each waiting soldier I pass.
Others prepare fires and set up the outer perimeter. Everyone has a job to do, and the faster they get their jobs done, the sooner they can rest. Travel on horseback is no easier on the body.
I arrive at the front of the wagon and nod as everyone bows. The amount of subjugation here makes me a bit uncomfortable, but at least I got my ladies down to a nod in my presence.
The soldiers answer Darius with a fist to their chest. Many refuse to look him in the eye. I still haven’t figured out if that is his rule or if people just naturally fear his attention. The latter seems more likely.
Plenty of other soldiers, especially the ones who ride with him at the front, are more easygoing toward him. Not friendly per se, but their respect and admiration shine through. A bond forged by battle, no doubt.
“Your Majesty, may I assist you with anything?” the station master asks, caught off guard by my presence.
“Quite the opposite. I’m here to assist you. I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to have your hands full with documenting our supplies. While I appreciate a thorough job, I’m sure you can sympathize with these soldiers wanting to settle down a bit quicker.”
His face flushes as he glances at the long line.
“I will find someone else to help right away.”
Before he can set down his papers, I stop him. “Not necessary. I’ll hand out supplies while you note them down.”
An awkward silence descends on the group. The men here are still largely uncomfortable with women of my station lifting a finger, which only fans my desire to change their perceptions.
I grab a tent and two bedrolls, balancing them in my arms as the station master jots down the supplies. The next soldier in line glances behind him uneasily.
“Do you need a third bedroll for your group?” I challenge.
“No, Your Majesty.” His eyes remain downcast as he holds out his arms to receive the bundle.
The pace of the line picks up, and a growing eagerness to settle down starts to outweigh their discomfort with my presence. A few even start to meet my eyes, holding up one to three fingers to request how many bedrolls they need.
A windblown mess of flaxen hair eagerly steps up next.
“Queen Mina,” Hamlin greets with a fist to his chest. He’s the only one who treats me like a fellow soldier and not just a sovereign. I adore him for it.
“Hamlin. I’m glad such a sharpshooter joined our party.”
He’s older by two years, but his pink cheeks give him a youthful appearance. “All thanks to you, Your Majesty. I’ve shown a few of my friends your technique, and they got assigned as well.”
My chest burns with pride. A few weeks ago, the idea of a woman holding a bow caused so much drama. Now a soldier is openly thanking me for my help.
I will change things for the better here.
I’ve grown so used to grief and sorrow that the hope blossoming at his kind words startles me. A foreign yet welcome change.
“Thank you, Hamlin.” I flash him an unrestrained smile, and his blush deepens.
I reach for the next tent, bending over the edge of the cart to drag the corner closer. I will have to climb up soon.
Noticing my struggle, Hamlin hops onto the cart and starts moving the supplies at the back of the wagon forward.
“My mates are on guard duty for the first rotation. They won’t mind if I’m last.”
“Your kindness and help are most welcome.”
Ignoring the station master’s grumble, I resume passing out supplies. With Hamlin’s help, the line dwindles down to a dozen people in record time.
The sun makes its bed on the far horizon, painting the fields a deep orange. If I hadn’t stepped in, people would’ve been forced to set up their tents in the dark. I will have to assign someone to assist the station master permanently.
A heavy silence descends on the group, and I bite back a sigh, knowing exactly who I’ll find when I turn around. Two guards flank Staefan and Darius as they walk to the front of the line.
His eyes drop to the bedrolls in my arms and my less-than-pristine state. Dirt from the tents is all over my clothes.
“I was wondering where you ran off to when I found the carriage empty,” Darius notes calmly.
“Here you are,” I say to the next soldier in line. He glances between the two of us before snatching up his items and rushing away. “I noticed the station master here was without assistance and decided to help.”
My sweet smile matches my tone, but Darius picks up on my hidden meaning. Despite our occasional opposition, there appears to be no language barrier between us. A whole conversation passes in silence.
I hear the chiding comments in the flex of his strong jaw. He understands the rebellious response of my narrowing eyes.
“I’ll make sure two are assigned to help going forward. You are needed elsewhere, my queen.”
“I’m sure the station master will appreciate it. Hamlin, would you mind finishing up?”
He scrambles down from the wagon and salutes us both. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you. Enjoy your night.”
I wave farewell to the remaining soldiers and link arms with Darius. His annoyingly delicious muscles are tense. I internally groan at the verbal lashing to come. I want a hot bath and to stretch out flat on my bed, not bicker again.
Our tent is set up in the center of camp, surrounded by tents for Jaime, my ladies, commanders, and councilors.
Darius did not bring an attendant for his personal needs, so Jaime has been kind enough to bring his meals as well. He always tastes both our plates before letting me eat anything. Jaime’s wise enough not to poison us, but after Lady Hunter, his paranoia is warranted.
Staefan follows us inside the tent, while the two guards remain a few feet from the entrance. A large bed sits in the center of the space, with our trunks and a metal tub for bathing next to it. Two chairs and a circle table sit off to the left. The surface is already littered with maps and papers.
Staefan crosses his arms. Normally, he acts as neutral party to our bickering, but today his mouth is fixed in a tense line that makes my hair stand at attention.
Darius yanks his arm from mine. “Why can you not, for once, simply follow orders?” he growls.
“I needed to stretch my legs after being confined all day. And I would be more inclined to listen if I knew what had the two of you so on edge.”
Cutting out the tongue-lashing Darius prepared, I continue. “We stopped later in the day than usual. Why?”
The two share a silent conversation, and my worry grows. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Darius sinks into the nearest chair and studies the maps in front of him.
“Edalite informed us that raiders have been terrorizing the farmlands and towns near here. Apparently, the idea of a disabled lord gave false hope of easy prey. He’s done a decent job fending them off, but he needs more soldiers,” Staefan explains.
Darius shoots him a glare. “I’ve dispatched a group to stay behind and help until replacements arrive.”
“You’re worried about an attack,” I state.
Staefan grips the hilt of his sword. “The commanders agree that an attack won’t happen, that ambushing the royal caravan would be a death sentence. We’ve increased the guards on duty for each shift to be safe.”
“Your commanders underestimate the foolishness and arrogance of such men. Confidence gained from successful attacks so far might embolden them.”
“The three of us are in agreement then.” Darius rewards my assessment with a nod. “An attack is unlikely, but plausible. All the more reason for you to follow my instructions for once.”
If an attack does come, the last place I want to be is confined to a carriage. I would be an unsuspecting hare caught in a trap. Relying on others to keep me safe while I sit idly by is not an option.
“Fine. Until we safely make it out of raider territory, I will follow your orders.”
Darius appraises me with a guarded expression. He is getting to know me quite well.
I smile and add, “Provided you change them.”