Page 42 of Of Blood and Fire
“That is perhaps a story that is better told once?—”
“And that sounds like a return to old habits to me, husband.”
“Wife, we can stand here and discuss the matter if you wish, but I desperately need a bath?—”
“I wasn’t going to mention it, but I’ve been in pig pens that smell better than you do right now.”
“—and something delightful to eat,” he finished.
His wicked grin very much suggested hewasn’ttalking about food. I laughed and whacked his shoulder. “There shall be no wife eating until said wife can reciprocate, and that isn’t happening until you smell more... ambrosial.”
“You weren’t so worried about that a few minutes ago.”
“Lust overwhelmed my sense of smell.”
He chuckled and pulled up his pants. “I promise to tell you everything you want to know over our breakfast. A breakfast involving actual food, that is. But first, before the bath and the welcome back festivities begin, I need to deal with my father.”
“Weneed,” I corrected. “I want to see his face when he realizes all his planning has been for naught. I want to bask in the waves of his fury and his impotence.”
Damon raised an eyebrow. “Am I sensing a little bit of anticipation in that statement?”
“More than a little, I’m afraid.” I touched his arm. “Give me a few minutes to clean up and dress.”
He caught my hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it, leaving my skin tingling and desire sharpening. The gleam in his eyes suggested he was well aware of that tide, but he simply stepped to one side and waved me past. But his hunger followed me as I ran around the bed to the bathing chamber, and it was all I could do to force my feet forward rather than back.
I quickly cleaned up, then pulled on pants, boots, a chemise, and a woolen shirt. While the extra layers weren’t really necessary, instinct was twitching, and I wasn’t about to ignore her.
Damon waited near the door. I reached for my knife and strapped it on.
“You cannot kill the King of Zephrine, no matter how tempting it might be right now,” he drawled. “The two halves of Arleeon cannot go to war when Esan herself faces foes on two sides.”
“I don’t intend to kill him.”
Amusement twitched his lips. “Blooding him, however mildly, would also not be wise.”
“Says the man who bears both sword and knife,” I said, tone dry. “And besides, a little bloodshed is not unwarranted, given everything he has done.”
“If I can resist temptation, you certainly can.” He opened the door and ushered me through.
“It’s not a question of resisting so much as the desirenotto.”
Janis did something of a double take when Damon followed me out the door, but didn’t ask the questions I could see in her eyes and saluted instead. I paused, motioned Damon past me, and then said, “Can you step inside the suite and keep watch? If anyone enters it via any other means aside from this door, feel free to stab them and ask questions later.”
Her eyebrows rose, but again, she didn’t ask her questions. She simply nodded and stepped inside. Another guard assumed her position on this side of the door, his expression stony faced as he glared at the guards Aric still had stationed in the hall—each still being shadowed by an Esan soldier. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d called for help—would Aric’s men have attacked ours to stop any interference before the deed could be done? Would Aric really have been so bold? I guessed it depended on which he prized more—his plans for Esan, or a continuation of the equitable trade agreement that had benefitted us both for centuries now.
I hurried after Damon, catching him on the other side of the stairs. As one, we strode down the hall to the grand guest suite, watched by three more sets of soldiers. The man standing beside the door saluted, then opened it unbidden. He obviously couldn’t tell the real Damon from the fake, but then, given how few whispers we’d heard on the military grapevine about the substitution, it was pretty obvious few could.
Vahree only knew I’d almost been fooled; it was only when I’d looked in his eyes and viewed the contempt and coldness there that I’d known.
Aric was awake and pacing when we entered but stopped and said, his voice harsh, “Has the marriage now been consummated?”
“Indeed, it has,” Damon said. “But not recently, and certainly not by your heir.”
Aric’s gaze narrowed and quickly swept Damon. Then he glanced past him at me. “What have you done with him?”
I smiled. “Not killed him. I didn’t even burn him, as much as the bastard deserved it.”
“Then where are he and Makki? With Garran’s return, you no longer have the authority?—”
