“That man is incredible,” Alix said, and even she wasn’t sure if she meant it as a compliment. “I swear, you could tell Highmount the dragon was nigh and the world ending and he’d just look at you and say, I see.”
Liam threw the latch on their chamber door. “He’s right, though. There’s no point dwelling on it.”
Alix forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Liam. I am so sorry.”
“I know.” He put his arms around her. “It’s behind us, love.”
That wasn’t really true—it wouldn’t be behind them until the war was over, and maybe not even then—but Alix loved him for saying it. She let out a long breath, tucked her face into the curve of his neck. The familiar scent of his skin was a tonic, soothing away the bitter trials of the day. Exhaustion crept into the spaces grief left behind. It wasn’t even noon, and already she felt . . . spent.
Feeling her sag against him, Liam said, “Come on, let’s lie down a moment. You need to rest.”
“There isn’t time . . .”
“Just for a moment.” He led her through to their sleeping chamber, where they found Rudi sprawled across the foot of the bed. Liam shooed the wolfhound off before starting in on the buckles of Alix’s armour. She began another weak protest, but it felt so good when he lifted her breastplate away that the words died unspoken. They curled up together, Alix’s body tucked neatly into Liam’s. A perfect fit, she thought, not for the first time.
“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like,” he murmured, “if the war had never begun? For us, I mean. You and me.” His fingers twined through hers, toying with the ring on her baby finger, the one that had once belonged to his mother.
She knew what he was doing, but she played along. The alternative was letting herself descend into dark thoughts. Whether she looked ahead or behind, there was only sorrow; better to steal a moment of peace in the small space between. “I’m not sure we would even have met,” she said.
“Sure we would have. You’d have done your King’s Service anyway, right?”
“Yes, but I doubt you and I would have crossed paths. You’d have been a knight, after all. Entirely too important to mix with a scout like me.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, Arran Green only delayed your knighthood to keep you off the front lines. No war, no front lines, no banishment to the scouts.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Hadn’t thought of that. Still”—his arms tightened around her—“we would have met.”
In spite of everything, she felt a smile tugging at her lips. “What makes you so sure?”
“I’d have seen to it.”
“We’d have been barracked on opposite sides of the compound. You’d never even have noticed me.”
“Oh, I’d have noticed, believe me. Have you seen you?” He twisted a lock of copper hair around his finger. “You rather stand out, my lady.”
“I see. My hair would have drawn your eye, is that it?”
“That, and your dulcet tones cursing out your opponent in the ring.”
“Bugger off.”
“Just so. Like a sweet songbird.”
She rolled over to find his grey eyes dancing with mischief, mouth hitched in that crooked grin that had snared her so long ago. “All right,” she said archly, “you’d have noticed me. What makes you think I’d have paid any attention to you?”
“Are you kidding? I’d have swept you off your feet even sooner. With no war getting in the way, how could you resist me? Especially since I’d be extra dashing, what with the knighthood and all.”
“Extra dashing? One struggles to imagine.”
“You can be sarcastic all you like, but you don’t fool me. I dash like anything.” Alix couldn’t help it; she giggled. Liam rolled onto his back, hands tucked under his head. “Victory.”
He’d said that to her before, in this very bed, though under different circumstances. The memory brought a flash of heat to her skin. She climbed on top of him, hair falling around them in a copper curtain.
He reached up and brushed a thumb along her mouth. “I thought your mind might go there.”
“You hoped it would, you mean.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It worries me sometimes, how easily you play me.”
The crooked smile again. “I am but a humble harper, my love.” He drew her head down into a kiss.
Smug bastard. He played her body just as easily, and he was a relentless tease. Even now, as he kissed her, his fingers were ghosting up her sides, turning her skin to gooseflesh. His hands came to rest just under her breasts, but no farther—not yet. She knew from experience that if she shifted, tried to guide his hands where she wanted them, he would comply—but only for a moment. Just long enough to make it clear that he knew exactly what she needed, and would give it to her in his own good time.
She broke off from the kiss. “I mean it. Sometimes it’s like you’re reading my mind.”
“I’m not reading your mind, Allie. I just pay attention.” He raised her arms and pulled her shirt over her head. Then he rolled her onto her back and proceeded to prove his point. He knew just where to start, lips brushing behind her ear, thumb gliding over the bud of her breast. From there, he followed the cues, reading every hitched breath, every tensed muscle; a tracker on the hunt, answering with nips and kisses and firm fingers until Alix thought she would explode.
“Liam, by the gods, if you don’t . . .” She gasped as his thumb moved in a slow, tormenting circle. “I’m going to kill you . . .”
She felt his laugh, hot breath on her skin. “Like a sweet songbird,” he said, and slid inside her.
* * *
Alix woke to an empty bed. She got up, put on a dressing gown, and stirred the fire. Then she padded off in search of her husband. She found him standing at the hearth in the sitting room, staring into the flames. So much for our moment of peace. Aloud, she said, “How long did I sleep?”
“Not long. An hour, maybe.”
“Thank you for that.”
He glanced over, firelight playing off his features. “For letting you sleep?”
“For all of it.”
He turned back to the fire. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.
Alix knew what was coming. She lowered herself into a chair, tucking her bare feet under her. “I have to go, Liam.”
“Hear me out . . .”
“I’ve heard you out, several times.” She said it gently, trying to soften the words. “Nothing’s changed, love. Someone has to get Rodrik out of enemy hands, and you’ve got to stay here and keep things in order while Erik is”—she faltered—“while he’s not well.”
“Highmount’s managed on his own before. He and the council did a fine job when I was in Onnan and Erik in Harram. I don’t see how this is any different.”
“Yes, you do,” Alix said patiently. “We could afford for you and Erik to be away at the same time because as bad as the situation was out there, at least things in Erroman were relatively stable. That’s not the case anymore. The crisis is here now. There needs to be a White at the helm.”
“The crisis is Erik’s twin. So let me manage it. I’ll go to Andithyri with the Wolves. We’ll rescue Rodrik and kill the bloodbinder, and Erik will be free. I used to be a scout too; I know how to sneak about. I can do this.”
Alix wrestled with mounting frustration. “I know you’re worried, love, but—”
“Worried?” He turned away from the hearth, and it was as if his eyes had absorbed some of the flames. “I’m not worried, Allie. I’m petrified. The more I think about this plan, the madder it seems. Four of you alone in enemy territory—”
“Three, actually. I’ve thought it over, and I’ve decided that Rona Brown should stay here with you and Highmount. She’s a banner lady—you’ll need her voice on the council.”
“Even better! Come to think of it, are you sure you wouldn’t just rather go alone?”
Alix scowled. “Now you’re being silly. There are no good choices here, Liam. No easy tasks. I’ve got to do my part, just as you do.”
“Your part doesn’t have to be a suicide mission!”
“Let’s not be dramatic—”
“I’m not. You know I’m not. It’s insane and I can’t let you do it.” The flame in his eyes cooled, hardening into resolve. “I won’t.”
She paused. “I beg your pardon?”
“I should have a say in this. I’m your husband and your prince.”
For a moment, she was stunned into silence. “You can’t be serious.”
But he was—perfectly serious. “I can’t let you do it, Alix.”
She rose slowly from her chair. Something stirred in her belly, cold and constricting like the coils of a snake. She knew this feeling. She’d had it in Harram, in the moments before she’d written that fateful letter to Saxon ordering the assassination of a Trion. A feeling of powerlessness. Of being merely a witness, a window through which great men were glimpsed in the midst of great events. “You can’t let me do it,” she echoed softly. “You think you can decide for me, is that it?”
“I can decide for the kingdom, can’t I? Isn’t that what being a prince is supposed to mean?” She heard the frustration in his voice, the desperation—just as he must surely hear the warning in hers. But neither of them seemed able to heed it, too caught up in the dangerous momentum building between them.
“So, what, now that you outrank me, I’m just your subject? Your wife? Property of Liam White?”
“Of course not. That isn’t what I mean and you know it.”
She barely registered the words. A roar like an avalanche filled her ears, drowning out everything but the rage hurtling toward her. It was as if something that had been looming over them for months had suddenly broken free, and now it crashed over her in a bitter torrent. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Yours isn’t the only claim on me. I’m also Erik’s bodyguard. So I’m well and truly covered, aren’t I? I belong completely to the White brothers!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you know that’s not true . . .” Liam stepped toward her, hand outstretched, but she backed away.
“Isn’t it?” Her voice spiralled ever higher, caught on the updraft of a mounting fury. “Ever since I came to this place, it’s as if I disappeared, as if Alix Black were gone forever. And she is, isn’t she? I’m Alix White now. If I’d married anyone, anyone else in the kingdom, I’d get to keep my name. But I marry into the one family that outranks mine, and suddenly I’m someone else entirely.”
Liam stared, thoroughly taken aback. “I had no idea you felt this way.”
“So much for paying attention.”
He stiffened. “Very nice.”
She regretted herself immediately, but as usual, that only put her more firmly on the offensive. “You used to be a squire. Surely you remember what it’s like to live in someone else’s shadow?”
“I don’t even know what we’re talking about, Alix. Is it being Erik’s bodyguard you resent, or being my wife?”
“What? Neither, obviously—”
“Yeah, you know, for some reason I’m not finding it all that obvious just now.”
The hurt in his eyes pierced through the red haze. Alix drew a deep breath, tried to gather herself. “That’s not what I meant. But you can’t just order me around, Liam. I’m a grown woman.”
“Yes, you are, a grown woman who doesn’t always make great choices.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Allie. How many times have you done something rash and nearly gotten yourself killed in the process? Hells, nearly gotten me killed? Not two hours ago, you were begging forgiveness for having your spy assassinate Varad. A sodding Trion, and you had him snuffed without even consulting anyone! Can you blame me for being afraid of what you might do next?”
“You’re going to throw that in my face?”
“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact. I’m trying to make you understand that I’m terrified, Alix.”
She drew another breath, deep and shuddering, trying to cling to some scrap of control. “I understand that. What I don’t understand is why you’re saying any of these things. I have to go to Andithyri. You have to stay here and protect Erik’s crown. We owe him this, you and I. We owe him everything.” And then, without thinking: “You, especially.”
A crushing silence followed this addendum. Liam looked at her numbly. Too late, Alix realised what she’d done. She’d stabbed him in the place it hurt most, the secret wound he’d been trying so hard to overcome. He was a bastard, nameless, worthless in the eyes of the world until Erik acknowledged him. Still convinced somewhere deep down that he didn’t deserve the new life he’d been given. And now Alix had made it sound as if she agreed, as if it were a debt he could never repay.
“Just so I’m clear,” he said quietly, “is that because he gave me my name, or because he gave me my wife?”
“Gave you . . . ?” The rage bled away, leaving her insides scoured and empty. For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice; when she did, it seemed to whistle through the cracks. “No one gave me to you, Liam.”
“No? He never fought for you, not really. Tell me the truth: if Erik hadn’t stepped aside, would you have . . . Would you and he . . .” Even now, he couldn’t finish the sentence.
“How can you ask me that?” she whispered tremulously. “Why would you ask me that?”
They’d never spoken about it openly, not since the night Alix had made her choice, the night she’d come to Liam’s bed and told him she loved him. Why would they? What possible good could come of it? Alix had proven her love again and again. At least, she’d thought so. But now here was Liam, standing before her in the apartments they shared as husband and wife, questioning whether she’d really made a choice at all. Whether when all was said and done, she wouldn’t rather be with Erik.
“You almost married him,” Liam said.
“But I didn’t. I married you. That was my choice. No one else’s.”
The anger drained from him now too, but Alix could see that it left behind the same bitter residue. They both knew what they’d done. Some words, once spoken, can never be taken back.
Liam passed a hand over his eyes. “I don’t even know why I said that. It’s just . . .”
“You don’t trust me,” Alix said. “You don’t trust us.”
“That’s not true.”
But it was true, at least on some level, whether he admitted it to himself or not. Alix had thought the past was behind them, but she saw now that she’d been naïve. Liam had been carrying it with him all this time, an invisible weight around his neck. Or worse, a slow poison in his veins. Maybe we can never be free of this. Maybe the only reason we’ve made it this far is that there are so many more important things going on around us.
She looked at Liam and saw her thoughts mirrored in his eyes. And for the second time that day, Alix’s heart broke.
It’s behind us, love. So Liam had said little more than an hour ago. But nothing was behind them. Not now, and maybe not ever.
She turned away from him. There was too much to do and too little time. She withdrew, feeling as though she’d left more behind in that sitting room than her husband and his silence.
She felt it all over again the following morning when she rode out under cover of darkness with Ide and Dain Cooper, leaving a still-silent Liam on the steps of the keep.