Page 19 of Of Scale and Blood

“No,” my father replied. “But it should conceal their presence and, for the moment at least, the riders seem more intent on wiping out supply chains and any means we might have of a sea response than erasing entire populations.”

Tell that to the people of Eastmead, I wanted to say, but held it back. He was in truth partially right as, aside from the initial attack on the refugees in the Helvede caverns, they’d basically left them alone. And besides, he was my commander rather than my father right now, so I could not backchat.

“If there’s nothing else,” he added, “you’re dismissed. Go rest, Captain, before the morning’s tribulations begin anew.”

I nodded, saluted, and left.

Damon rose and followed me. Once we were back in the hall, I said, “I take it you’ll make the report to your father while I bathe?”

He nodded. “Gayl took the tablet so she could have a message relayed to her sons, so I’ll have to head across to her room.”

“We can just send someone around to grab it from?—”

“A move that would not be successful. Gayl can be... difficult.”

“You’re a prince of Zephrine and your father’s heir—relation or not, surely she could not ignore a direct order?”

He raised his eyebrow, amusement dancing through his lovely eyes. “And how often does my wife follow her own advice and order people about?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Well, rarely, but I’m not the heir, am I? For Túxn’s sake, husband, there is sex to be had, and time is a-wasting.”

He laughed, caught my cheeks lightly between his hands, and kissed me hard, in full sight of the guards standing at the door. I should have objected to the breach of protocol but didn’t. I wanted this man with a ferocity I’d never experienced with anyone else, and this kiss at least went some way to blunting its force.

And if I ignored the blooming ache deep within, I might actually believe that.

“Shall I order us a meal and a pot of shamoke on the way back?” he asked.

“Does the sun set in the sky every evening?”

He laughed again, then released me and motioned me forward again. Once we left the building, we clattered down the metal steps and ran through the rain to the palace. It, like most others within this main keep, was a squat and rather sinister-looking building, thanks mainly to the fact it was made of the same black stone as the mountain that soared above us.

The two vast and rather ornate metal doors that stood atop the stone steps were closed, but the right side opened as we approached, the guard obviously spotting us through the spy hole. I thanked him and continued on, footsteps echoing in the small but lofty entrance foyer. By day it was filled with light thanks to the heavily fortified light wells cut into the ceiling and the multitude of bright tapestries that adorned the stone walls, but at night, it was all shadows and flickering torchlight. I’d always loved nights here in the palace—loved the atmosphere and warmth the black stone seemed to exude once the sun went down. A grand stone staircase dominated the central space, sweeping up to the accommodation section—our private quarters to the right and guests to the left—but the ground floor held the grand hall, and to the left, the kitchens, buttery, and stores. Tucked behind the staircase was the private chapel where we’d been officially married.

Damon lightly touched my arm then, when I glanced at him, said, “I’ll head into the kitchens first, then go see my aunt and contact my father. That’ll give you privacy for a bath.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And what if I don’t want privacy?”

Heat and amusement rolled through his eyes, and a wave of desire hit me, thick and needy. “The little understanding I have gained of my wife tells me her need for shamoke will take precedence over any other need, no matter how fierce.”

I laughed, kissed him, then grabbed my pack and quiver from him and ran up the stairs. My suite was at the opposite end of the hall to my parents’, close to the thermae bathing facilities generally reserved for guests. It was large and bright, consisting of a bathing and dressing area, a sleeping platform big enough to party in, and a seating/eating area. Having spent well over ten years in military accommodation, many of them shared with five other soldiers, I’d certainly gained a new appreciation for the luxury of spaceandprivacy in which I’d been raised.

Once I’d secured my sword, bow, and quiver, I hung the pack on the nearby coat hook, then ran a bath and stripped off, tossing my leathers and undergarments into the laundry chute to be washed. While the tub was filling, I grabbed a scented soapweed—the verum, because I knew Damon loved its intense, spicy aroma—and a couple of towels, placing them near the bath in readiness, then undid my plait and ran my fingers across my scalp. Small bits of grime fell around me like rain, though I wasn’t sure where a lot of it had come from, given I’d been on drakkon back a good percentage of the day.

I turned off the tap, stepped into the hot water, and began the long process of washing the grime and drakkon scent from my skin and hair. Once done, I dried myself, then donned a pretty robe—one that was basically sheer aside from a few discreetly placed panels. Something else Damon loved.

The food arrived before he did, so I poured myself a cup of shamoke and sat down, crossing my legs, then tugging the gown over them—a brief nod to the decorum I generally ignored.

He appeared ten minutes later, his expression less than pleased—which was something of a common occurrence whenever he’d been speaking to his father, I’d discovered.

“Problem?” I asked.

He stripped off his jacket and slung it over the top of the sofa, then poured himself a shamoke and sat down opposite.

“Not really.” His gaze scanned me appreciatively. “I do love what you’re almost wearing, but you didn’t have to make such an effort. Nakedness would have been fine.”

“Ah, but imagine the fun to be had slowly peeling away the silken layer to expose the goodness underneath.”

“Wife, I want you so bad I doubt I have the restraint to peel.”

---