88
ALEX WOKE WITH the feeling of a hard cot beneath him. He shifted painfully and forced his eyes open. As he separated light from dark, he saw Casseck walking toward him to stand over his bed.
“I’m not dead?” he croaked. His mouth was completely parched.
Casseck chuckled. “No, but you gave it your best.” He pushed Alex back as he tried to rise. “Stay down. You’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be fine in a couple weeks.”
Alex fell back against the pillow and closed his eyes to make the room stop spinning. “How long have I been out?”
“About twelve hours.”
Alex nodded, setting off a pounding headache. He massaged his temples between the fingers of his right hand. The left felt numb, but the arm above it ached fiercely. His right thigh also burned, though he couldn’t remember why. “Report.”
He could almost hear Casseck smile. “Everything’s under control, Captain. We have the whole fortress, though we’ll probably be able to hold only the inner walls if we’re attacked. Duke D’Amiran is dead, which you already know, as are most of his guards. His nobles are sitting pretty in the Great Hall—it’s easier to just keep them there, though we put a couple down in the dungeon. The ladies are a little traumatized, but unharmed. Our casualties are manageable: a few minor wounds, one broken arm and some broken ribs, several burns, and lots of splinters from the explosion. Tim Stiller may lose his hand. A few cases of the sickness—I suppose it was inevitable. We lost Corporal Smith and Sergeant Grassley … and…”
Alex winced with the memory. “Charlie.”
“Yes. Charlie.”
Alex was amazed by the flood that rushed to his closed eyes despite his dehydration. Charlie, who’d looked up to him in everything, who’d wanted to be a soldier like him. Charlie, who would never grow up.
Charlie he had failed to protect.
And he wasn’t the only one Alex had failed. Had they found her body yet? “And Sage,” he choked.
Soft fingers brushed his cheek. “No, Alex,” he heard her voice say. “I’m right here.” His eyes snapped open, and he turned his head toward the sound. She sat only two feet away, smiling anxiously.
A large purple bruise spread across her left cheek and a shallow cut ran along her hairline. Her lower lip was swollen and split on one side, and she had several other scrapes, but the injuries were already a day into healing.
Sweet Spirit, she was beautiful.
“Sage,” he gasped. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His words came in a desperate rush. “He hurt you, and I didn’t know until it was too late.…”
She came off the stool to her knees beside him, wiping his tears away. “Shhh. It’s all right. I think I hurt him worse. I broke his arm and stabbed him in the armpit, just like you taught me. Between all the blood and the throwing up after, though, I left your knife in him.” She smiled crookedly. “I saw you got it back, though.”
He struggled to understand her words. “What?”
Casseck cleared his throat. “She escaped, Alex. D’Amiran never had her.”
Alex sobbed and rolled toward her, reaching out with his good arm. Sage shushed and soothed him, combing her fingers through his hair, planting gentle kisses on his face. Cass excused himself and left them alone.
“Sage,” he whispered, “I—” but she put a finger to his lips.
“My turn.” Her gray eyes glistened with tears. “I’m sorry I was so hateful. I know you never meant to hurt me. I love you.” She smiled weakly. “That is truth.”
He didn’t know how long he kissed her, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. Sage eventually pulled away so she could wash his face with a warm, wet cloth and make him drink some water. The effort of sitting up to swallow made him sleepy, but he couldn’t bear to close his eyes while she was there.
Finally, he began to fade back into unconsciousness. “Will you still be alive when I wake up?” he mumbled.
Sage leaned in to kiss his dry and cracked lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
89
THE SMELL WAS horrific, like something out of nightmares, but the land was too rocky and the bodies too numerous to bury them all. Continuous light rain meant they had to use oil and alcohol to get the fire burning, but fortunately there were also plenty of wood scraps from the guardhouse and the armory. The putrid smoke rose from the cleared area outside the main gate. Sage turned away from the pyre and saw Alex weaving toward her.
“What are you doing?” she scolded as she tucked herself under his right arm and propped him up. “For Spirit’s sake, you need rest.”
“I need you,” he said as she led him to a place to sit. Alex tugged the handkerchief that covered her nose and mouth down and kissed her. “I woke, and you were gone.”
She set him down and checked his injuries. “I’m sorry. There’s just so much to do and so few to work.”
“You shouldn’t be out here. This isn’t something I want you seeing.”
“I think it’s too late for that.” His wounds seemed fine, and she smiled in relief. “Besides, I put the women to work in the kitchen and laundry. If I wasn’t here, I’d have to put up with them.”
Alex relaxed against the stone column at the end of the drawbridge, and she thought he’d passed out again when his eyes snapped open. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
As if in response, horns all around the walls sounded. “It’s too early for help,” Alex said, struggling to his feet. “Get everyone inside!”
Casseck was already calling for that, and they’d just secured the portcullis and drawbridge when a dozen riders approached and halted outside, staring at the smoldering pile of bodies and the Demoran flags flying from the gate and the keep. Corporal Mason came running to report. “Hundreds, sir. Approaching from the south and west on foot.”
“Don’t you dare,” Casseck told Alex as he made for the steps to the top of the outer wall. “I’ll handle it.” Alex leaned on Sage, nodding gratefully. “I think I can convince them to stand down,” Casseck said. “But we should prepare to fall back.”
“Who’s their leader now?” asked Sage.
“The count may be with them,” said Alex. “But this must be the army they gathered.”
“Tell them D’Amiran’s dead,” she said.
“I’ll tell the riders,” Cass said with a shrug, “but I’m not sure whether it will get the troops to turn back. The closer they get, the less likely it is they’ll leave.”
“Hang D’Amiran’s body from the keep,” said Alex. “That was his preferred method of dealing with former allies. I’m sure they’ll get the message.”
*