Chapter 1

Chapter One

Zenith

Sweat drips a hot streak down my spine. The southern lands are sweltering compared to my home at Ralossi Palace in Lemossin. It's been ages since I traveled. I'd almost forgotten the heat and humidity.

From my position in the air above the army, I scan the lines of men and women at my command. They're ragged, dirty, and out of breath from running drills. It's been a hard day of work.

"They're improving," says Randal, the army's captain, hovering at my side, his brown fae wings beating twice as fast as mine.

"Yes, but will it be fast enough?"

Practice session by practice session, this group of mixlings and fae are becoming a real army. But time is running short. When we reach the human rebels in Irondale, we'll need to be much better. Faster, stronger, more capable of functioning as a unit.

I must hand our queen the victory she's commanded of me, and then…

No.

I won't daydream about a future with Anash yet. There's no use getting ahead of myself. The prince is on this journey with me, and that's more than I could have hoped for. Whatever lies in store for us can wait until we've completed our duties.

Beating my wings, I swoop over the crowded field. The soldiers fix their eyes on me, awaiting my orders. Will it be another grueling round of sprints? More combat drills? Endless repetitions of their best spells and enchantments?

They're in for a pleasant surprise.

"Well done, soldiers." My voice carries over the makeshift practice arena, the grass trampled flat beneath the boots of thousands. "I commend you for your efforts today. You've earned a hearty meal, a wash, and a good night's rest. We break camp at dawn. Until then, dismissed."

"Aye, General," they chorus, voices echoing among the rocky forest at my back.

Their shoulders loosen with relief, posture giving way from the rigid stance I expect of my troops at attention to the tired bodies of soldiers who've been worked hard and need to blow off some steam.

Our temporary camp sprawls alongside the northern banks of the Dulas River. Though we've been here several days to train, time has raced by like fallen leaves caught in the water's rippling current. Battle will soon be upon us, and my untested soldiers will draw their first blood.

Tomorrow, we cross the bridge into Rutherton, then press farther toward the marshes. Our next station is Willowood, the last town before Irondale's hostile coastal territory, and the family estate of Lord Warner, the queen's consort. We'll make camp on his lands.

It will be our last chance to prepare for battle.

This won't be like the war with the incubi. Humans are a weaker foe, and the rebels are contained to a smaller region. With any luck, they'll be easy to subdue.

But one must never count on luck in war.

My thoughts wander to Talus. It should be him leading this army instead of me. The strongest gargoyle among us, with the most victories to his name and an uncanny talent for strategy on the battlefield. But he's missing, and Queen Aurielle, if she knows, won't say where he is.

Worry unsettles my stomach. Perhaps when the war is won, the queen will feel differently. Talus should be awake with us, not…wherever he's ended up.

As the men depart to camp, I nod good-bye to Captain Randal and take the opportunity to seek out Anash. The young prince has his own duties to the queen, and while I try not to interrupt him, surely writing letters and copying maps is faster work than running drills all day. If he's finished, we can steal a few moments alone together.

But our tent is empty. His books are closed, pens capped, papers stacked, and any work is hidden away. Where could he be?

My first guess is the river. Anash loves the water, and he's fickle about cleanliness. Growing up as a member of the royal Tierney bloodline has imbued him with standards that aren't conducive to muddy fields and weeks of travel.

Not that he ever complains.

Sometimes, I wish he would.

I know he's unhappy. Something is off, but I can't put my finger on what. If he'd tell me, perhaps I could help. Or simply be a listening ear for him. Offer my empathy.

Whatever is wrong, he's bottled it up inside, and it isn't my place to pry in a royal's life, even if this particular noble is the mate whose bed I warm each night.

I leave our tent and take the path—already well worn—to the riverbank and find a group of my soldiers washing, splashing, and generally cutting up. I scan them for a familiar golden burst of messy blond hair.

"Looking for your prince?" Wallup, the boldest of the men, teases me about my obvious affection for Anash whenever he gets the chance. He grins and slobbers kissy noises loud enough to catch the attention of the rest. Some of them join in. Others chuckle.

As their high general, I could shut this down easily enough, but experience tells me being relatable to the men is more valuable than being feared by them. And I don't mind the teasing, so long as it's good natured and doesn't disrespect Anash.

I jest right back. "Aww, you jealous? How many of you need hugs?" I open my arms. "Come on. I'll pat your head and tell you everything will be all right."

They balk, as I knew they would. "You stink worse than us," says Wallup. "Go find him. He swam upriver . Sure he's not a mermaid?"

Wallup's quieter brother, Jessup, elbows him. "Mer man , dummy."

I shake my head and take my leave, following the marshy riverbank east. Night bugs chirp loudly from the tree line. With each slog forward, my feet sink into the mud. No wonder Anash chose to swim. The land is nothing but muck the farther I go.

His chuckle, no doubt aimed at me picking my way through the swamp, alerts me to his presence. "Take your shoes off before they're swallowed up."

He's right about that. My sandals get tugged every step. I bend over to untie them.

Anash whistles, low and suggestive.

My cheeks heat.

Both sets.

I like that he's watching. That he likes what he sees. When he's near, I can't tear my gaze away from him either.

I tie my laces together and throw my filthy shoes over my shoulder, then glance up to find him at the center of the broad river, treading water to stay in place despite the strong current threatening to carry him west toward the men.

A shot of anxiety courses through me, seeing him so far out. Anash is a strong swimmer. He's said as much, and it's obvious looking at him, but even still, water is dangerous.

"How was your day?" he asks as if he isn't about to be swept away at any second.

"Long. Good. You?"

"Much the same. I missed you."

"I missed you too," I say, even though we awoke together this morning. That doesn't make me miss him any less during the stretch of hours spent apart.

Anash floats gracefully on his back. His little toes peek out from the water. "Come closer."

Yikes. No, thank you. "Tempting as you are, I can't swim."

"I'll teach you."

"I'm heavy enough to drown us both."

He swims to the steep bank. "Nonsense. I won't let you drown."

My hesitation keeps my feet firmly rooted on the shore.

"Zenith." He flashes his big, gray-blue eyes and bats his lashes. "Don't you trust me?"

Charming as always. Overly so. "That's a dirty tactic."

"Is it working?"

"Of course it's working. You know I trust you." It's true. I trust him with my secrets, my life, my heart. Everything. But swimming? I shudder.

A guilty look crosses his face. There and gone in a flash. "You can stand along the edge here." He demonstrates, rising from the water and giving me a lovely view of rivulets racing down his naked chest. His body from the navel down remains below the surface.

Pity. I'm eager to see all of him.

"Strip off and join me." He grins. Perhaps he's eager to see all of me too. We can't get enough of each other, like we're bound, and when the bindings stretch, it's almost too painful to bear. I need him.

Need him enough to brave the river. Knowing I'll be able to stand helps. I drop the muddy sandals and yank off my shirt.

Anash watches, his cheeky grin never leaving his face. When my clothes are in a pile next to my sandals, he says, "Take my hand."

After giving orders all day, I must admit it's calming to relax and follow them instead. I reach for him. His fingers close around mine.

I let him lead me in. The chilly water steals my breath. "Aah! Cold."

"Refreshing, dear heart, refreshing ." He tips his head for a kiss, which I happily grant him.

"It's refreshing, all right. Refreshing my balls straight up to where they came from."

Anash chuckles. "Mine might never forgive me. I've been in the water long enough to prune." He holds up his shriveled fingers as evidence.

I kiss every one of them. "Perhaps we should head back to camp, then?"

"Oh, no." His pruny hands land on my chest. "You're not getting out of this river so soon. First, a lesson."

"What if gargoyles aren't meant to swim?"

"Then we shall find out together."

"Stone sinks."

He runs his hands firmly from my shoulders, down my sides, around to my buttocks, and squeezes. "But you're not stone at the moment."

I return the gestures, then tug him close. The wet skin of his chest presses against the dry skin of mine. "I'll be hard as stone shortly if we keep this up."

"Promise?" He wraps his tail around us, keeping me close.

"Will a promise get me out of this river anytime soon?"

He narrows his eyes, concern flickering. "Are you truly that uncomfortable?"

I am, and I'm not. Having Anash in my arms is an irresistible pleasure—even half-soaked in ice water—but the thought of submerging myself farther tightens my chest.

"Oh dear, you are, aren't you? I'm sorry." He plants a swift kiss on my collarbone, which serves as a nice distraction. "We'll stay right here, where you can stand if you need to."

"Or"—I cast a longing gaze at the grassy riverbank—"we could curl up together over there, and I can warm you up."

A wicked smirk splits his face. "After."

"All right." I'm not getting out of this. Best get it over with, then. Besides, I could use a rinse after the day's labors. "What do I have to do?"

"Let's work on floating for now. The water will be good for your muscles." He kneels, slipping one hand to the back of my knee and the other to my lower spine. "Just lean back. I've got you."

Swimming suddenly seems like a better idea. At least there's some activity to it. Some flailing about. Some effort not to drown. But floating? Lying back and trusting water to hold me up? "It's not going to work."

Anash's tail curls around my ankles. "It will. You're lighter in water than on land. I can carry your weight easily."

"You won't let go?"

"Never."

I suck a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out through my mouth, then do as he says.

Slowly he takes my weight in his hands and with his tail. The chill of the water envelopes my ribcage, my shoulders. When it reaches my neck, a flutter of panic seizes my gut, but Anash pulls me in close. The rhythm of his breathing against my side gives me something to focus on that isn't my imminent death by drowning.

"You're fine," he murmurs near my ear. I've shut my eyes. "You can hold on to me if you like."

My fists are clenched. When did I do that? This is supposed to relax my muscles, not stress them further. I wrap an arm around his waist and let the other dangle in the current, making a point of loosening my fingers.

And it's…not bad.

Breath by breath, my body adapts to the temperature. Anash keeps his grip firm. I don't feel like I'm going to fall or sink, not with him by my side.

"You're most buoyant with a deep chest full of air and least buoyant at the valley of your exhale," he says. "Can you feel it?"

I like having something to do, so I analyze the idea. A full breath, held for a count of ten, sends my body rising in the water. And sure enough, as I push the air from my lungs, I sink. That feeling I don't care for as much, but Anash keeps his promise, holding me securely.

"Yes, I feel it. I wasn't expecting the river to be like this."

"Like what?"

"Peaceful." It's an odd sensation to bask in on the brink of war. The soft rippling of the water as the current washes away the sweat and dirt of the day. My mate at my side, keeping me up. The promise of intimacy, safe and sound on the riverbank.

I'm the luckiest gargoyle who ever lived.

I drift, weightless, my muscles easing one by one. I'm right to have put my faith in Anash. He's given me so much. He's given me this. And when I open my eyes, he's also giving me a hungry look.

I know that look. I return it eagerly, my desire for him rising to the surface just like my body when I suck in a deep breath.

He works his tail from my ankles up my calves to caress my thighs. "Did I mention I missed you today?"

"And I you." The battlefield is no place for my mixling prince, half fae, half incubus, all lover and no fighter. "Let's get out of the water."

"Yes." He licks his lips. "And into each other."

I can't splash out of the river fast enough.