Page 28 of Red Queen

Worse. I want him to touch me not in the way of domination but out of something tender. And I lift the sword and deliver strike after strike after strike, a cry of war and blood and pain unleashing itself from my lungs.

I spot a rock and maneuver him to it, and he stumbles. But rights himself.

“Control that passion, that hate for me, Eleanna. Discipline. You have it. Use it.”

I attack again and I hate how he reads me like I’m naked and bleeding, how he still knows me when I don’t wish him to. Yes, we find strength in each other, but I don’t have to like it.

“Maybe I want your head.”

“Oh, I think I’d like that from you, sweet Eleanna.” He blocks my move.

The fury whips through me and I counter attack. “Or a stake through the heart.”

“One of your icicles?”

He suddenly attacks with such ferocity all my hate and fury and even laughter his words force on me channel into defense. I get in a couple of attacks, but words die away as our swords spark against each other in parry and thrusts, killer moves and lucky escapes.

When he slows to a normal pace for him, I’m sweating, my arms are getting stiff, the ache bone piercing and the sword now weighs the same as my throne. But I push on. I won’t let him best me. I won’t allow it.

“Your determination is admirable. Most would have faltered by now, my fallen Queen,” he says after a particularly close exchange that nearly has me on my back.

“Most aren’t queen of the Sagori,” I spit out, catching my breath. “I will not be so easily bested. And stop calling me that!”

We circle each other, and his black hair frames his chiseled jaw, his leather clothes accentuating his muscular build. It’s unwanted, annoying, distracting, this attraction I feel for my enemy…my friend?

That is not the right word. But his distractions are sumptuous outside of the training field.

“Keep your eyes up here, Your Majesty,” Alexandru says. “Or are you too busy fantasizing about what lies beneath the armor?”

My cheeks warm, but I hide it with a scoff. “In your dreams, General Amanar.”

The momentary pause in our sparring is interrupted by Nadia, who approaches with a tray of refreshments and cloths to wipe away the sweat. Alexandru nods in appreciation, taking a cloth and a drink. His attention momentarily shifts as Ivan enters the courtyard. The two men step aside, engaging in a hushed but urgent conversation.

“Your Highness.” Nadia hands me a goblet. Her brown eyes flicker with concern as she leans closer. “Forgive my boldness, but...is it wise to entangle yourself with him, especially now?”

I take a long sip, relishing the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. Even the goblet weighs too much.

“Entangle?”

She toes a pebble. The snow’s worn away here, some melted, and it hasn’t snowed since we arrived. I don’t know if it’s an omen—of what I have no idea—or just the weather.

Nadia swallows. “I know you keep going to his bed chamber. He…you discarded him once.”

I wait for her to continue, my silence inviting more of the words she might never have said if things were different. If Meredith lived. But now it’s up to her to be both the quiet one and the bold.

“He might want more than you want to give.”

“It’s just sex, Nadia,” I say. “A momentary diversion. And the only way he will consent to aid me against Catarina.”

“The only way, my Queen? Surely you see there’s more at play here,” she presses gently. “The war with Catarina looms over us.”

“I can handle him and the sex.”

She nods but she’s not done. “Word will get out. Even if you handle him and it is just as you say, I fear your union with Alexandru could be perceived?—”

“Perceived as what?” I ask sharply.

“A reunion. A refortification.” She bites her lip. “Treason.”

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