CHAPTER 20: TWENTY

"They have families. Children. And you condemn them to death!" My voice breaks, tears stinging hot at the edges of my vision. "I lost seven brothers to this war. Year after year. Because men like you decided your lives were worth more than theirs."

Sebastian’s snarl rips through the chamber like a blade. He lunges a step forward, fury etched into every line of his face.

"Seb," Rafe’s voice cuts lazily through the storm, though his tone holds warning. He doesn’t even look up from the map. "Leave him. We’ll revisit the plans come morning. Go."

For a heartbeat, Sebastian wavers, muscles tight with the desire to strike. Then, with a final growl, he shoulders past me.

The others follow, one by one, eyes dragging over me, some amused, some assessing, all dismissive. Each passing shoulder collides with mine, deliberate knocks meant to remind me how small I am here.

The chamber door closes with a hollow thud, leaving only the prince and me.

"You can’t do this," I argue. "They’ll all die."

Rafe doesn’t look at me. His eyes are locked on the map, fingers tapping the pieces like a god deciding the fates of mortals. Cold. Detached.

"Tell me, Ironfang," he says softly, the quiet more terrifying than a shout. "Have you ever played chess?"

He points, and my gaze follows his finger to the clay Sebastian had tossed to the ground. "Pawns are the weakest pieces, easy to cut down, but their sacrifice has a purpose when played right. They force the opponent to react, break their structure, and open the battlefield." He stands, turning his gaze to the window behind him where the clash of steel reverberates in the training yard. "In this case, the recruits are pawns. They match forward first, not because they are strong, but because they are many. Their deaths create the opening needed to strike true. When the Dark King rides for our lands, he will adapt the same strategy. He will bleed us with fodder first. I will do the same."

I stare in utter disbelief. "You’ve always... known. You’ve always known they were going to die on the battlefield because it was your plan all along."

"When I return home, it is to my coronation. A King must be willing to make necessary choices others cannot stomach." His grey eyes finally find mine. Hard as stone. Cold as ice. "This war will be won. The loss may be great, but it will be effective. The Elite cannot stand as fodder. They are heirs of High Houses, men who feed coins feed Silvermoor and keep the peasants off the streets. Their wealth fills the same royal cache that serves the people in this time of great siege. They are indispensable and I will not squander their lives for ungrateful men, whose families will be well fed and taken care of long after their deaths."

"Not men," I spit, feeling sick to my very core. "Cattle. They aren’t even people to you."

Rafe chuckles. "When you have lived a single day in my shoes, I will let you judge me. But now, you speak from naivety and sheer foolishness, so I will overlook it. But make no mistake. The only existence of a pawn is to be eliminated, so that their betters survive. The sooner you understand that, the clearer the world becomes to you."

I stare at the Prince, his shoulders high in that demeanor that would give him away before you ever even knew who he was. It is easy to see the King he will become when he wears the crown on his brow.

Cold. Ruthless. Heartless. A man who would make whatever sacrifices he thought was necessary to achieve his goals.

It is terrifying. And repulsive.

"Have you ever considered taking the peace treaty?"

Rafe stiffens. "We’d sooner die than make deals with those depraved monsters." He looks at me like I’ve grown ten heads. "How could you possibly know that? The treaty was a private matter."

How do I know? I can’t exactly say, but I remember that dark voice in my dreams curling around the words, "They refused my offer of peace and killed mine. I will not stop until you are wiped off the face of the earth."

I’d written it off as another lie, as it is what the enemy does best, but now...

I can’t keep the disgust and irritation off my face. "So, it is indeed the pride of the royals that kill us. How are you any less depraved than they are?" My hands move before I can stop them, tearing the Elite badge from my breast and it drops onto the table with a clang, rolling to rest with the rest of the pawns. "I am no coward. Not like you. I’ll sooner die for the people before I’ll parade behind you in a victory built on their slaughter."

Rafe’s eyes lift from the badge to my face and for the first time since I walked in, I see a semblance of emotion in them. "What happened to your face?" I blink and he’s standing right there, in front of me, a hand reaching for my cheek. "Who touched you?"

I retreat a couple of steps back, out of his reach. "My well-being is no longer your concern."

His jaw clenches. "That is for me to decide."

"You already did." I am surprised at steadiness to my voice. Not even the tiniest bit of my truest emotions are revealed. Not that I am one touch away from screaming, or that he makes me feel something as deep as loathing for him. And gods... the need. The jealousy. "When you rejected me and fucked someone else in front of me, you made that decision. All I ask is that you stand by it and stop pretending that you care about me."

Rafe tilts his head. "Won’t you ask me why I singled you out?"

My lips press into a firm line.

He picks my badge and fixes it back onto my breast plate. "Because I do not want you to die. I’m a selfish man, Valerian. I keep my enemies close and my possessions closer. And as of late, you have become both things to me. A very dangerous place to be, if you ask me."

His lips curve into a cruel smile. "I’d highly suggest you not test me with your rebellion. I could think up a couple of creative ways to clip your wings and make you enjoy it."

A claw juts from his finger and I wince as he runs it down from my cheek, cutting me. Almost immediately, I feel the press of something hard against my stomach. "You have no idea how much it excites me when you’re mad."

I jerk back and flee from the war room, chest pounding. Gods, I saw it all happen. I’ve never had as many reasons as this to hate a person. He is the worst, most despicable man I’ve ever met. Yet, the bond. The stupid bond makes me feel hot all over at his cruel antics.

Maybe I’m just as sick in the head as he is.

Though, little did I know that I hadn’t even begun to understand the meaning of sick, and soon, I’d understand that there were men out there worse than an entitled Prince with misplaced priorities.

That night, however, we got the first case of recruits trying to escape from the camp. Seven of them. Their reasons being the fact that they had families and didn’t want to die in a fruitless war.

They were executed the next morning.

******

"You’ve been gone longer than usual lately," I tell Thane as he walks me down the river bank. Beads of sweat rolls down my skin as I shed my clothes on the large rock and slip into the water.

My Guardian settles himself by the bank, resting his head underneath his hands as he gazes upon the moon, giving me my privacy as I scrub at my skin quickly. "I have children, you know. Lots of them. Fatherhood is a little tedious."

I laugh at that. "What was your life like before you became a... god?"

He snorts. "That is one way to put it. In truth, I don’t remember much of it. But I assume I might have lived a mortal life at some point, one good enough to be favoured by Mother and reincarnated as well... you know."

I look up at him. "Do you hate it? Being a Guardian?"

Thane’s lips form a thin line. "Yes."

I start to ask why but he suddenly snaps upright, his head jerking in the left direction. "Someone’s here." When I start to rise he shakes his head. "Stay down! He’ll see you."

"Who is it?" I whisper-shout, pushing my shoulders underneath.

Strange eyes meet mine and dread coils in my back as he mouths, "The Prince."

Oh gods...

Truly, the words have barely left his lips when I hear the light, rhythmic footsteps of the prince. I suck in one deep breath and submerge completely understand water, keeping still.

"Valerian?"

I don’t respond.

"I know you’re in there. Your clothes are right here."

Oh gods... This is bad.

Don’t panic, Valka. Don’t panic.

My head pops out of the water and my hair sticks to my face in a matted mess. Rafe leans against the rock, casual as sin, his gaze catching me. He doesn’t notice Thane looming above, glowering daggers at him.

"Think he’d feel it if I pulled his pants down?" Thane mutters, reaching theatrically for the Prince. His hand, as always, slips through nothing.

Laughter bubbles out of me, wild and wrong, impossible to smother.

Rafe tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Something about this amuses you?"

"No," I answer, smile dying as I recall what happened earlier. The sound of the sword falling at his order to execute the runaways. The lack of emotion in his face as each of them cried, pleaded. My own pleas that had fallen on deaf ears. "Did you need something?"

His fingers rake through his disheveled hair. He looks haunted. "I couldn’t find you in your room. I thought you might be here." His gaze flickers, unsteady. "You must think me vile for the executions. But I had to punish them--"

"By killing them?"

His voice hardens. "It was stated on day one. They knew defecting meant death. If I rescinded the order, the rest would think it acceptable. And then who would be left to fight?"

I shake my head, swallowing bile as the image of a head rolling down the steps flashes in the back of my mind. He’s right. We were told that on our first day here. Still, I can’t help but shake the terror I felt in that moment. The cruelty I saw in his eyes. It made me wonder if placing someone like Rafe on the throne was the right thing for Silvermoor.

He has no... compassion. And there is nothing worse than a tyrant who believes his actions right and just.

"Did you seek me out to validate your wrong doing?"

Rafe’s eyes soften and then, with no warning, he shrugs off his robe.

Moonlight carves the planes of his bare body in silver. Skin. Muscle. Every line screaming power. "I came here because I missed you. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see you."

"No--"

But he’s already in the water, the river closing around him.

I backpedal furiously, the current slapping against me. There’s nowhere to go. Behind me, the bank rises steep. My clothes sit folded neatly just beyond him, my only way out. If I pass too close, the mate bond could snap awake.

This is it. My chest pounds. This is where my lies end.

He wades closer, water rippling off his chest.

"You’re terribly shy for a man, Val."

Maybe because I’m not a man!

Heat scalds my cheeks. I swim circles, desperate, ridiculous, trying to shield my body and flee at once. The river betrays me, tugging me back, tangling my limbs.

I just about elude Rafe successfully when I feel a hand grip my leg and tug me back playfully.

I slam into him, his chest a wall at my back. Hard muscle, solid heat. His nose brushes my neck, a hot breath fanning my skin. That thickness that is all Rafe presses against my butt while his fingers run along the curve of my waist.

"You’re softer than I imagined." A deep growl vibrates in his chest setting my nerves on fire. "You smell divine, Val. It is..." His teeth brushes my skin and heat spears me unforgivably. "Intoxicating."

Thane vanishes from my peripheral and for a heartbeat, I forget myself. Forget the water. Forget everything.

Because I have never been touched like this.

And it costs me.

Because Rafe’s fingers reach higher and brush against the curve of my breast.

The world drops out from under me.

I wrench away, splashing, heart clawing its way up my throat. I turn to face him, arms locking over my chest, horror tearing through me.

Rafe blinks rapidly. Eyes really looking at me for the first time. They take in my newly dyed hair. The burning amber of my eyes. My face without the scar on my cheek. The plumpness of my lips.

Then they drop lower, to my slender, petit neck. Then my shoulders, the true slimness of them that I’d hidden so well with shoulder pads. The bulge of my breasts that have grown in the months since I’ve been here. The hollow of my stomach and the diamond shaped belly button, just below the subtle abs that come from training so hard.

And his eyes drift even lower.

I tighten my arms around myself as his lips part and he says with disdain, "You..." He seems to lose his voice. "You’re a... girl."

Tears burn hot at the corners of my eyes.

This is it. This is where he drags me back, where he exposes me, where he kills me.

His face twists with rage, betrayal, disbelief. His jaw locks tight enough to break.

I wait for the sentence to fall.

But before he can speak, the sound splits the night.

A bell. No. It’s a drum. The war drum. It beats too fast, too loud, deafening me as it carries across the rivers and shakes even the very trees.

We both freeze, head snapping upward at the fire lighting the skies.

"The enemy is here."