Nathe’s stomach twisted like a tree root as he prepared to watch Sapphy battle. Not all the competitors were as untrained as Rhia Jayden, but all would be as ruthless as Mirabel Wathaka.
He fought not to let his uneasiness show, projecting the calm space he always did. That he normally felt. Something was poking through the invisible box he’d locked his emotions in years ago, causing the earth even now to quiver imperceptibly beneath his feet. He was used to controlling the earth, controlling himself. This woman was sneaking past his defenses easier than an incubus through a chastity belt.
He’d watched Sapphy as she’d surreptitiously aided the younger woman, and something within him had softened. She talked so tough, swaggering around, putting up her chin, and yet she’d save a stranger. Somebody weaker who others might look down on.
He was beginning to get a glimmer into her thoughts. Sapphy did not appreciate bullies, though she respected strength—he need only look at her tussle with Sara for proof. Apparently Sapphy saw something in Lady Jayden that spoke to her.
The starting bell rang.
Tension shot through him, though he was uncertain as to the cause. He’d witnessed Sapphy fight, knew she had talent and skill, though a bit impulsive at times.
The women began to circle, Sapphy’s back to him as she concentrated on her opponent.
Her name was Liza Raven. Nathe knew her to be competent enough in hand-to-hand combat. Her father was a sergeant in his Guard and an elegant fighter. He’d heard Liza danced, so combining the fluidity of that and her father’s training could prove formidable.
Liza struck first, a feint to the right before jabbing left.
Sapphy dodged with ease, bouncing on the balls of her feet a little as she circled. She seemed content to wait, even as acid burned up Nathe’s stomach.
Tomas settled in next to him. “I thought you’d assigned yourself the courtyard?”
“I am. I have. I will be.” Nathe didn’t take his eyes off the women as they continued to engage in slow, testing moves. “Two minutes.”
“It makes no difference to me, my friend. So, Saphaia’s fighting.” Tomas leaned on the fence, relaxed, watching her moves. “She’s good.”
“I know.” Nathe clenched the railing as Liza got through Sapphy’s blocks and thumped her in the stomach. Sapphy bent double, wheezing.
“She should have seen that coming. It’s all in Liza’s eyes, have you noticed?” Tomas gestured. “She looks where she’s going to hit. There, see?” He nodded as Liza went for Sapphy’s face, only to be thwarted by a block. The sound of flesh striking flesh carried even over the crowd’s chanting.
Sapphy jabbed out, the heel of her hand striking Liza’s nose. Blood trickled as Liza’s head shot back, but before Nathe could feel at ease, Liza’s leg caught Sapphy behind her calves, sweeping her feet from under her. The moment she touched sand she rebounded with the fluid instincts of an air Elemental. The grace, the speed, the power as she returned attack was…arousing.
Sapphy ducked under Liza’s next kick and kidney-punched her. Pain lined her opponent’s face as she clutched at her midsection.
“That’s our girl.” Affection ruled Tomas’s voice.
“Mine.”
“Yours?”
“What?” Nathe threw a quick glance at Tomas. “What’s mine?”
“Saphaia.”
“Don’t be foolish. Business, Tomas, you know that.” With an irritated headshake, Nathe returned his attention to the fight. “Have you discovered any activity that indicates whether Sapphy’s ‘killer’ is real?”
“None yet, but I have eyes out for anything suspicious.”
Nathe ignored Tomas’s gaze. He didn’t dare take his off the fight, though he knew he was blowing all this out of proportion. This was a mere test, and it whittled down the competitors to the serious contenders. If he was going to be uneasy about anything it should be about the sword trials later.
His stomach rolled. “She should finish it.”
“She’ll finish soon.” Tomas chuckled as Sapphy leaped out of the way of Liza’s next attack, dropping into the splits before rebounding.
“Why is she toying with her?”
“My guess, she’s playing to the crowd. A noble cannot get through the Six without the love of the audience.” Tomas tipped his head to where the nobles and Lower Towners laughed as Sapphy executed a cartwheel behind her dazed opponent. “Or perhaps she’s simply a show-off.”
Nathe had to admit the astuteness of the strategy. He’d also suppose she might not want to reveal her full capabilities yet. However at this point, he wished only for Sapphy to end it before his silver shirt of office was soaked through with sweat.
“End it,” he murmured. “Quit playing.”
As though she’d heard him, Sapphy bowed extravagantly, both hands flourishing. As Liza charged, face warped in fury, Sapphy kicked up both legs and spun in a perfect circle mid-air. Her boots hit Liza full in the chin, knocking the noble off her feet to slam into the ground. Sand exploded around Liza as Sapphy landed nimbly on both feet and bowed again.
“Definitely a show-off,” Tomas noted.
The audience howled their approval as they shot to their feet, nobles and Lower Towners both. Sapphy’s braid swung as she curtsied in all directions, face gleaming with a fine layer of sweat. She had a smudge of sand and blood on her cheek, but other than that appeared unharmed. Her eyes, even from where Nathe stood, blazed a brilliant blue. Catching his gaze, she sent him a sly wink.
As the announcer declared her the winner, she ambled over to where he and Tomas stood at the fence. Resting her arms on it, she leaned in. The sweet scent of blood and Sapphy washed over him. “Got a towel for a lady?”
Nathe didn’t question the impulse, couldn’t, not with such strong desire roaring through his veins.
“Come.” His hand grabbed hers, tugged at her, urged her to vault the fence. “Come with me.”
He ignored his friend’s questioning, “Nathe?” Ignored the buzzing of the crowd around him, of his own men.
Urgency beat like a whip, his groin, his belly, his head, all drummed with need. The earth shivered below. He tried to draw his control back into a straight line but it tangled itself in knots as Sapphy’s thigh brushed his as she climbed over the fence.
The suns beat down, sliding over Sapphy’s surprised face as he towed her out of the stadium, away from the cheering crowd, the questioning officials, and any prying eyes.
“Okay. Who put the bee in your bonnet?” Her voice was tinged with annoyed amusement. “I’m sure you’d have preferred me to end the fight quicker, but you don’t win hearts that way.”
Nathe spotted the equipment stable, far enough away from the arena that the crowd’s roar was nothing but a dim hush.
He yanked open the door, pulled her in amongst the swords and shields, the bandages and bells and seat cushions. Into the quiet dark. The door clicked shut behind them.
Her eyes widened as he backed her against it. He was breathing like a bull, lost to a desire that chained his better nature.
She stared at him as her back hit the wooden panel. He came closer, close enough to press his body into hers, so all that softness was pushed against his legs, his groin, his chest. Without speaking, he wrapped her braid around one hand and tugged. Her head fell back, her mouth parting.
He pounced.
It wasn’t like the time she’d kissed him, soft and teasing. This was devouring, a need to assuage, a madness that spun out like a black tornado to yank them both into the whirlwind.
His mouth covered hers, his tongue battling, tasting, persuading. Her taste was sweeter than he’d thought, and he knew he couldn’t get enough. Could never get enough.
He changed the angle as she moaned, gripping both hands to her head, holding it in place. Her hands were sliding over his chest, smoothing over his backside, pulling him tighter against her.
Her hips began to rock, needy sounds passing from her mouth to his. She was just as eager, nipping, soothing, hips arching.
Nathe tore his mouth away and pressed hot kisses to her neck. Trembles shook his body until he realized it wasn’t just happening inside his body.
Tremors shook the equipment stable, balls bouncing from shelves to floor, knives clattering, papers scattering and tumbling like fresh snow. Sapphy’s lips slid to the vee of his open shirt. Her teeth bit down and his head fell back, hands bruising as they shifted from her head to her waist.
He shuddered as she outlined the bulge beneath his trousers, clever hands smoothing, gripping. His hand shot down to manacle her wrist.
“Stop. We have to stop.” His voice was as raw as his emotions, as his desire.
“You pounced on me, Brown Eyes.” Like him, she panted, her blue eyes beckoning him to fall into her again.
He backed up until his back hit the opposite wall. Until control was straightened into its perfect line again.
His heart thumped erratically as he took in the picture she made lounging against the door, her braid half-undone, strands curling haphazard around her face, bruised lips made swollen and red by his kisses, her waistcoat unlaced and hanging open to show the rise and fall of her breasts. As he watched, her tongue snaked out as if she could still taste him.
A tremor ran down his spine, sharp as a blade. He held out his hands and concentrated. Tasting the cool, damp earth on his tongue, he tunneled his orders into the ground beneath his feet. The earth shuddered once more before it ceased. The balls bounced then rolled to a stop. The blades stopped their clattering.
Silence but for their heavy breathing.
Heat tinged the tips of his ears as he wondered what the hell had possessed him. He’d been watching her fight and then…and then…
He remembered the shock on the announcer’s face, the questions in his men’s eyes. He’d unceremoniously kidnapped a competitor, shoved her in the first building he found and pounced on her. He was no better than an animal.
Embarrassment shone as he ran a hand down his face. It smelled like her. He hastily dropped it, linking both behind his back, figuring at least he’d be able to hold onto them when they felt like wandering.
“I, ah…” Oh, Gods, was that his voice? Shaky. Raw. Uncontrolled. “I must apologize.”
She watched him with those goddess eyes, making no moves to tie her waistcoat. “Okay.”
“I, ah, hum. I do not know, that is, you are a very beautiful…and any man would want to…but I am…and it would not be, that is to say, it is business, and I, ah. Hum.” Gods, he was making a fool of himself.
Correction: More of a fool.
He let out a frustrated breath. Why must he always feel the idiot when sex came into matters? He tried again. “We have a working relationship and I should not have accosted you. I apologize.” There, that sounded better.
Sapphy pursed those kiss-swollen lips and pushed away from the door. A light gleamed in her eyes as she walked toward him. He wished she would stay on the other side of the room. The atmosphere was charred, and still held the memory of her taste, the delectable feel of her body pressed into his.
“Nathe?” Her voice was low with humming resonance.
“Yes?”
“Shut up before I hurt you.”
Her hands wound around his neck before he could think to stop her, and she brushed a kiss across his lips. He held himself still with the will he’d honed throughout his long years, balling his hands at his sides as she took her time tasting his mouth. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and he almost groaned.
She fell back on her heels and smiled up at him, sunny and seductive and knowing.
Without another word, she headed for the door, leaving him staring after her. Lines formed down the center of his brow. What had that meant? He was lousy at deciphering women’s messages. Did she want him to pursue her? Was that a goodbye? A thank you?
While he was agonizing, she’d made it to the door and cracked it open. Light burst into the darkened stable and she stepped through the gap, hovering a moment. Her head swiveled. “Nathe?”
“Yes?” His voice was sulky this time, unsure, and annoyed about being so.
She grinned, both sexy and mischievous. “The earth moved.”
Before he could think of an answer, she was a shadow in the wind.
* * * * *
That kiss haunted Sapphy’s thoughts like a spectacular sex dream throughout the rest of the week, powering her through opponents like a drug.
As Sapphy stood on the erected stage in Castle Avalon’s front courtyard, joined by the fourteen other remaining competitors, her eyes sought out Nathe. He stood next to Tomas, hands linked behind his back. The beauty of his face had fallen into its customary seriousness, aloof despite the cheering Six-watchers as they jostled around him. He wasn’t even sweating in the heat and she thought she could hate him for that alone.
Except she now knew what really made Nathe Amergin sweat.
He’d actually shoved her against a door. Mr Excuse-me-while-I-blush had gone all caveman on her—and she’d loved it. Not that he’d asked. If she’d had objections, they’d been smothered by the onslaught of his mouth, his tongue, his hands as they’d controlled her pleasure like a cruel Sin-Denmaster. If she’d had any doubts about his control, that earthquake had assured her control had left the building and hailed a carriage to the next town.
That was the problem with being so bottled up—at some point, you had to explode. If he’d continued for another ten minutes, it was safe to say she might have.
She raised her eyebrows at him and winked. Smiled as his lips buttoned in disapproval. Adorable. Like the red sweep of a flush in the stable as he fought to apologize.
Oh, they were definitely on now. If he didn’t keep avoiding being alone with her, of course. All week he’d played the sober sponsor, grave and all business. A lid for the boiling cauldron beneath.
A delighted shiver skipped down to pool in her belly at the thought of what he might do when given a bed and a few hours. She should have known that serious intensity would translate to heated devotion in bed. Or against a door for that matter.
A slight frown marked his face as she stared at him. That red flush she thought so cute washed up his neck. He looked away, but she noted the balled hands now at his sides.
That resistance. She could deal. He was so stuffy he probably thought they shouldn’t sleep together because it muddied the waters, but screw that.
She’d admit it gave her a hitch that he didn’t know the whole truth about her. She didn’t like lying to those she was intimate with, but she’d deal, figure it out. Either way, Commander/Ambassador Nathe was about to be laid siege to.
Sighing, she tore her concentration back to High Peer Lionel as he droned on about what an honor it was for the noblewomen to have made it this far. He’d been going for twenty minutes with only a brief interval to discuss the team trials for the start of next week and showed no signs of stopping.
The queen, not being a fool, had disappeared back into the castle as soon as the trials were over. Throughout the week’s trials she’d only left the royal box twice, and as Sapphy had ordered the air to whisper its secrets, she knew the truth. They’d been bathroom breaks—not clandestine attempts on any Six competitors. As far as Sapphy could tell, Arra hadn’t intervened, hadn’t manipulated any of the events, and Sapphy had been searching for evidence like a woman possessed whenever she could. Not like she had anyone else at the minute to occupy her.
It only made tension thrum anew through her body. Predators waited until the last moment to pounce. Until a new queen was elected and Arra had been…decommissioned, Sapphy wouldn’t sleep on the job.
But she was going to have to come up with something to fob Nathe off. He’d started to talk about discovering the villain’s identity and it wasn’t as though Sapphy could point to Arra like a Helltracker mutt. Please. Take her word over the beloved queen’s?
Sapphy snorted, the sound luckily covered by Lionel as he went on about the great tradition of the Six. Nathe might be horny for her, but she doubted lust topped loyalty in his playbook.
Was she bothered? Try a big fat “heck, no”.
The heat was baking those on stage and in the crowd like over-ripe fruit. Sweat dribbled down Sapphy’s back as she fought not to fidget.
She twirled two fingers and a lovely cool breeze drifted across her body and those of her fellow competitors. On a day like this, it was a blessing to be an air Elemental.
Lionel bowed low as he finished. There was a weak round of applause.
Finally. She bypassed the other noblewomen and caught up with Rhia at the bottom of the steps. She touched her wrist, halting her.
“Congratulations.” She ignored the other competitors as they climbed past.
Rhia smiled, dipped her chin. Navy-violet shadowed one eye. “Thank you, although I’m not sure how…”
“Hey.” Sapphy mock-punched the other woman, biting back a smile when Rhia flinched. “I saw you fight. There’s some raw potential in there. That thing with the water? Downing pints before the match—clever.” She pursed her lips. It was something Rhia had echoed through the fights she’d participated in, a now-signature move. Sapphy was pleased for her, but the younger woman desperately needed further training if she wanted to advance. And somewhere during the week, Sapphy had decided to help her.
Rhia flushed. A sparkle lit her eyes until she ducked her head. “Thank you. Congratulations to you as well.”
Sapphy shrugged, nodded to where Pita Jayden stood with a group of bejeweled nobles. “Celebrating?”
“Yes. My father has already invited many of our neighbors.” Rhia hesitated. “You could come, if you have no arrangements. I should like it.” Shy, but sincere, she twisted her hands.
Touched, Sapphy’s smile was a flash of pleasure. “Thanks, but I already have plans.”
“Perhaps another time.” Rhia drooped, clearly thinking Sapphy was making excuses. Sapphy’s heart darn melted.
Maze assassins shouldn’t melt, damn it. But she’d always had a thing for the underdog, and if she was going to be bad anyway…
“Do you want to train together?”
“Train?”
“Yeah.” Sapphy shot a one-second finger at Tomas, who was gesturing her to come over. “Sorry to be blunt, but you need work.”
Rhia’s mouth parted. “Work?”
“Your form is sloppy, you have about three moves that by now everyone has seen… You need toughening up.”
Anyone else probably would have slugged her for that—especially in light of Sapphy’s previous praise.
“I know I’m not as good as the rest.” True to form, Rhia only scuffed her leather boots along the gravel. She pressed her lips together. “I so wish to be better for my father.”
“Gods, Rhia. Tell me to go screw myself. Then I come back with an insult, and then… Don’t you know how banter works? Insult me. Tell me I’m fat or something.”
Alarmed, Rhia’s head shot up, then flinched as she obviously jerked something. “I, ah, I could not possibly…” She began blinking rapidly.
“We’ll work on it.” Sapphy shook her head. “Do you want to train together?”
“I should be grateful of anything you could teach me.”
“We’ll start with fighting, work up to the attitude. Dawn tomorrow in practice arena one.” Sapphy nudged Rhia with her hip, careful not to catch her ribs. “Get healed up. It’ll be interesting.”
“Saphaia?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you wish to help me?” Flustered, Rhia twisted her hands in what seemed to be a habitual movement. “We’re competitors. I have nothing to trade with. I saw you fight—you make it look simple.”
Sapphy studied her. “Maybe I’d like a friend while I’m here. I’m surrounded by male egos at the moment, and, much as I love them, a girl needs another female to hang out with or she’s likely to start running the idiots through with a blade.”
Rhia’s mouth trembled into a small smile. “I should like to ‘hang out’ with you.”
Poor young woman. Ana would tell her to harden the fuck up. Sapphy hoped to be tough, but a little softer about the approach. “It’ll be rough, Rhia. You sure you can handle it?”
“Everybody has always treated me like delicate glass.” Rhia squared her shoulders. “Perhaps it is time to see if that is all I am.”
“Okay then. See you in the dawn. Don’t party too late. You’ll need your strength.”
* * * * *
“You’ll earn a reputation skulking around here after dark.” Troy lounged back in his carved seat with a mug of beer, eyeing her over the rim. His smile was carelessly seductive as always. “The royal blacksmith and the noble who would be queen. We’ll cause a mountain of gossip.”
Sapphy tore off another hunk of the bread she was eating. “Well, you’re an adequate lover. I’ll brave the gossip to have another fumbling in the dark with you.” She batted her eyelashes.
He snorted. “Adequate, my ass. I’d move the earth for you, send planets out of alignment. You’d scream my name.”
“Okay, first: Ewwwww. You just went wa-ay past the line—you’re like my brother. Second: earth’s already been moved, thanks.”
“Has it now?” Interest lit up the recesses of his navy eyes. “Wouldn’t happen to be by stick-up-his-ass Amergin by any chance?”
Sapphy mimed zipping her mouth shut.
“As I thought.” Troy set down his mug. “Damn, losing out to a noble.” He sighed heavily. “Love is cruel.”
“Hush yer chops, Troy.” Cora bustled in from the blacksmith’s kitchen with a platter bearing a golden fruit pie. “I want t’hear about the noble kissin’ my Saphaia.” She sent a withering look through the curling steam. “An’ don’think I can’t hear you in there. My Saphaia’s got more sense than t’be bumpin’ bits with the likes of you.”
“Ouch,” Troy said, deadpan. “The arrows you’ve slung at me could fill an army’s quivers.”
“Hush,” she repeated and placed the platter on the scarred pine table. “Saphaia, you’ve not touched yer greens.”
“Like being ten again,” Sapphy mused. Her eyes slid from the pie to the weapons chests that lined the small room where they ate. In keeping with the décor, weapons also hung on the walls in lieu of paintings. Killer-chic. “I want pie, Cora. The Six competitor demands pie.”
“An’ you’ll get it. Quit your complainin’.” Cora slid a sharp knife down the pie to cut three generous slices. She slipped them onto Troy’s basic tableware and passed them around. “Now what’s this ’bout you kissin’ Amergin?”
Sapphy shrugged, digging into the pie with relish. The tart apple and cinnamon exploded on her tongue. She swallowed on a moan. “Cora, I missed your pies.”
“’Course you did. Who in the kin’dom wouldn’t?” Cora pointed her fork at Sapphy. “An’ don’t be changin’ th’subject, madam.”
“I don’t know.” Sapphy forked up another mouthful, gesturing with her eyes for Troy to help.
He grinned and set to his pie with a diligence she’d have admired if she wasn’t busy avoiding Cora’s disapproving tongue.
“Did he kiss you?”
“Maybe.”
“An’ you kissed him back.”
“How come that’s not a question?”
“You think I don’know my Saphaia?”
Unsure if she’d been insulted, Sapphy cut more pie out of the platter. “I like him.”
“That mebbe true, but you come from two diff’rent worlds, an’ does he know it? ’Course he do.” Cora stabbed her fork in Sapphy’s direction again. “He knows he won’ marry you, so what’s he int’rested in you for?”
Sapphy scowled. “Might interest you to know that I kissed him.”
“Noblemen are all the same. Didn’ y’mama end up pregnant after goin’ round wi’a noble?” Cora shook her head. “Not t’be trusted, Saphaia.”
“Nathe isn’t like that. He’s…different.”
Troy snorted into his pie. “Trust me; men aren’t so different. All we want is a soft body to sink into.” He blinked at the vicious looks from both women. “What?”
Back to point. “Nathe…he’s helping me out, and he doesn’t want to get involved. And anyway, it’s my decision.” Sapphy tossed aside her fork. Cora had made her guts so twisted that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the buttery pie now. “I’m a grown woman, Cora. I trust my instincts. I’m not the naïve girl that left Lunguard.”
Wind blew across the table, frigid, as Sapphy pushed to stand. “And I won’t sit here listening to Nathe be insulted.”
“Aw, settle y’feathers.” Cora rolled her eyes. “Was just talkin’.”
“I didn’t care for it.”
Troy hooted. “Listen to the noble.”
“Shut up, T.”
“Shutting up.”
Sapphy braced her hands on the table. “I happen to like Nathe, so I don’t want to hear any more insults or I leave.”
“A demanding madam, like y’ve always been,” Cora muttered, disgruntled. “Fine, fine, I’ll hold m’peace ’til it chokes me.”
Satisfied, Sapphy sat back down.
“You should know, we’re not the only ones who find your sex life fascinating.” Troy licked the tines of his fork at Sapphy’s questioning look. “Arra. She watched with a none-too-happy look in her eye when Nathe towed you out of the arena.”
What she felt was more than satisfaction, more primal. Mine, her blood whispered.
“Good. Maybe she’ll keep her hands to herself in the future.”
“Don’t anger her, Saph.” Troy turned serious as he covered her hand with callused fingers. “If she’s as bad as you think…”
“As I think? You changing sides on me?”
“Don’t be stupid. But we don’t know why she stabbed Beatrix.”
Violent, clashing voices. You can’t do this.
Sapphy shrugged the memory off. “Is there ever a good reason to stab someone?”
“You tell me, assassin.”
“Ouch.” Stung, she stared at him. Even Cora stopped mid-motion.
He pressed his lips together. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Troy squeezed her hand. “Forgive me?”
They had too much history to let a weird moment crack their foundation. “You got your period?”
“How did you know?”
She laughed.
“Seriously, though. Take care,” he said, returning to Arra. “If she killed Beatrix for nothing, who knows what she might do if she’s angry.”
“I say bring it. If she tries something, I can prove she’s an evil bitch and we can all turn in.”
“Saph… Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Gods. Yes, I’ll be careful. Both body and spirit,” she added when Cora sent her a look. “Now, have you placed your bet yet?”
Troy affected a look of severe astonishment. His hands fluttered to his broad chest. “Bet? You think I would gamble when you could be hurt?”
“Tell me you’re going to milk these nobles’ pockets.”
“You’re up twelve to one, so next time I’ll be buying the pie.” Troy grinned.
“Idjut,” Cora muttered.