Chapter 22
ACKER
Her eyes dismiss me without a backward glance.
Completely unfeeling, she stalks toward the archer, stepping purposefully as the soldiers continue to bow in succession.
They fucking adore her.
Gone is the girl I stole from Alaha.
At first glance, everything about her appearance is the same as when I’ve watched her sleep, but now awake, its more: facial features sharper, body honed to perfection.
I always found her beautiful, but now she’s something else.
Something I can’t quite identify. Alluring, maybe?
Divine. The word feels like liquid as I roll it on my tongue, so damn close yet not enough.
She swipes her braid of hair over her shoulder imperiously and I swallow the excess moisture pooling in my mouth.
I’m compelled to keep watching as she stops in front of the archer standing before us.
They’re speaking too low to make any sense of what they’re saying, heads dipped close as they whisper, but the archer looks over at Wells before pointing to the gulf, to where our ship has been taken over by Maile soldiers.
Jovie follows his stare before turning back to continue the conversation.
Whatever he says makes her smile and he grins back at her.
Up to this point he’s demonstrated as much personality as a dead fish, but now he’s acting like he’s made of sunshine and happiness. Get the fuck—
Standing off to the side, just beyond the archer’s shoulder, I catch sight of Messer.
I’d forgotten about her pet.
He smirks. He’s been watching me this entire time.
I’d been too enthralled by my Match to notice him. His eyes slink to Irina at my side, before flicking back on me. Back to Irina. Back to me.
He lifts a brow. “That’s … a choice,” he smarts.
A dumb one, he means.
And yeah, I know.
Jovie’s heads snaps toward him and she barks, “What did I say?”
His shrug isn’t the least bit repentant.
Sighing, Jovie turns her attention back to us, as if just remembering why she’s here. She briefly looks at Irina, before taking in Wells and Olivia, avoiding me completely.
I never fully let on to Jovie what I’m able to sense through the Bond.
She was always good at hiding her emotions, but it didn’t stop me from being able to feel them.
Like right now, as she walks toward Olivia, there’s not a glimpse of the unease she’s disguising so well.
The sense I get of her inner turmoil isn’t strong, with the mangi stones smothering the connection of our Bond, but an echo of the tightness in her chest still filters through to me.
There’s a note of affection in her voice when she says, “Liv.” Her eyes fall to the round belly Olivia is cradling, paying no mind to the way Wells leans closer to his Match defensively. “I was worried you weren’t coming, after weeks without any word from you.”
“I’m sorry,” Olivia says. “I wasn’t given time to send a message before we left.”
Jovie nods in understanding. “How was your journey?” she asks. “The baby?”
Olivia runs a hand across her stomach. “He was very active while we were on the ship.”
“He?”
“Well, Wells thinks it’s a girl, but I’m not convinced.”
Jovie glances up at Wells’s towering figure, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, before she looks back to Olivia. “Men think they know everything.”
Olivia laughs.
“Listen,” Jovie continues. “I’m sure you’re in need of rest, so let’s cut to it: why are you trying to sneak into Maile after you’ve turned down all of my invitations?”
Olivia looks at Wells and he nods, encouraging her to answer. “I’m here to seek refuge for my husband and child. That is all.”
There’s a beat of silence as they hold each other’s stare, and I’m just realizing how familiar they’ve become. Olivia won’t speak against me, but she’s not going to lie to her friend, either.
A swift assessment of the soldiers visible nearby tells me everyone is balanced on a delicate edge.
All of their eyes are on their princess, their leader, as they await her instructions.
Jovie wears leadership well. There’s an air of confidence about her that wasn’t there before.
An authority in the way she holds her head, her stance sure but at ease.
She’s … magnificent.
Wells’s suggestion that I should make amends with my Match comes to mind as I take her in.
He believes I should get on my knees for the woman who betrayed me and beg like a dog for her help.
Seduce her if you have to, is what he’d said.
I’m not above it. It’s basically what she did to me, letting me fall more and more in love with her all the while having every intention of stabbing me in the back.
If I believed it would work, that seducing her would save my people, then I’d more than enjoy getting on my knees at her bedside.
I’d make sure she’d beg me in return, to make her come with my mouth between her legs, for release.
I can practically feel the heels of her feet digging into my shoulder blades, her hands fisted into her bedding as she caves to her base urges. I’d turn her into a fucking mess.
I can’t imagine a sweeter revenge.
Her head snaps toward me, eyes flashing with anger before she’s able to mask it.
The blaze emanating through my chest from her side of the Bond makes me grin.
She can’t hide the connection anchoring us together, regardless of the mangi stones she’s wearing.
The pull of the tether is too strong, too demanding to ignore.
A single thread of magic stretching the mere feet between us that’s been vibrating since the moment we saw one another.
It’s stronger than it ever was before. Even then, I could never discern when she slipped into my thoughts versus when I was just thinking about her of my own volition.
My years of training as a child, learning how to shield my mind, are worthless against her, as are the mangi stones when we’re this close.
She stalks toward me, and the smell of wildflowers wafts over me on the sea breeze, nearly crippling me. “Get on your knees,” she orders. To punctuate her point, she makes the demand again, voice eerily calm as she says, “Kneel.”
I have no reason not to acquiesce.
One knee hits the hard stone, then the other, and I tilt my head back to maintain eye contact with her.
A pin could drop, and it’d be as loud as the sound of a witch’s brew exploding in the silence.
This is a show of power, to demonstrate how tightly she holds the reins here, and exactly how little I control in comparison.
And fuck me if I’m not struggling to stave off an erection.
There’s a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes before she looks to the woman beside me. “And you, Irina,” she says. “Why have you come here?”
“We came—” I begin, but Jovie cuts me off.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
She doesn’t even bother to look at me in her reprimand.
It’s a casual rebuff meant to put me in my place. I grit my teeth, clench my fists. Partially in a bid to keep my mouth shut and partially to stop myself from acting on the impulse to punch Messer right in his smug face. I can see him grinning at me again from behind the archer.
“Acker told me we were coming here to speak with the queen,” Irina says with a haughtiness that surprises me, given her weakened state. “As for the reason, you’d have to ask him.”
“Did your husband not coach you on what to say?”
The term she uses for me does not go unnoticed.
Irina sways slightly in place. “My husband does not give me orders.”
Risking Jovie’s ire, I dare to interrupt: “She knows nothing of my intentions.”
Jovie cocks her head to look at me, hazel eyes bright in the sunlight. “Then what is it you seek?”
“An alliance.” I have to give her credit for not balking at my answer. “I am sure you’ve heard by now that the joint forces of Roison and Alaha are nearing our capital. I have come to petition Maile for aid.”
“Aid? As in … from my men?”
I hold her stare. “Yes.”
A grin begins to grow on her face as she lets out a small laugh of incredulousness. She looks over her shoulder at the archer and Messer, smile blooming to fullness, and I’m beyond envious that they’re the recipients of it.
By the time she faces me again, her smile is gone. “And what in all the gods’ names gave you the idea that I’d ever send my men to fight in a war I want nothing to do with? Idiocy or arrogance?”
“Neither,” I tell her. The stone wharf is beginning to bite into my knees, but I don’t dare move, knowing to do so will reveal my discomfort. “It’s a war you’re already embroiled in—”
“By your command,” she clarifies. “You ordered the Strou to attack my territory along the northern border, did you not?”
This is going to be a tough sell. “You’ve refused to let our allies cross the gulf.” Maybe seduction won’t suffice in persuading her, but maybe my misery can. I’d offer to stay on my knees for eternity if it would save my people. “Choosing sides is the same as choosing conflict.”
“Your father can’t possibly approve of you being here.”
I give a slow and measured shake of my head. The soldiers flanking us visibly react, discomfort evident in the shift of their feet and shoulders as the news travels down the line in hushed whispers.
“The Alaha have switched sides,” I tell her. “Wren and my father have struck an accord.”
She lifts a single brow. “You’ve received first-hand knowledge of this alliance?”
“Yes.”
This, above all else, begins to thaw the ice in her eyes. “Why would Wren switch to the losing side of this war?”
I hesitate and I can practically see her shield going back up. “I’d feel more comfortable sharing what I know in private.”
The archer steps toward her and touches her arm to get her attention and she pivots to speak with him. Messer leans in to listen, his eyes shifting between the two of them. Their whispers are once again too hushed for me to overhear
When Jovie looks at me again, her expression is shuttered once more.
“Stand.”