Chapter 21

A s the days passed, Liana regained her strength, the color returning to her cheeks and the light to her eyes.

Each time she woke, Kaxim was seated beside her bed, his unwavering presence a constant comfort.

His stern demeanor never softened, but his touch was gentle.

When she struggled to sit up, he supported her, his hands steady and sure as he helped her lean against the pillows.

‘You shouldn’t push yourself,’ he admonished, his rumble firm. ‘Your body needs time to heal.’

‘I’m fine,’ she insisted, though the weakness in her voice betrayed her.

She winced as a sharp pain shot through her flank. He was at her side in an instant.

‘You’re not well,’ he countered, his tone brooking no argument. ‘You need rest. Let me take care of you.’

The Queen’s gaze softened as she looked at him, her eyes tracing the hard lines of his face. He was as disciplined and focused as ever, but she tagged a gleam in his eyes—a flicker of worry, a protectiveness beyond mere duty.

This was personal .

‘You’ve done more than enough,’ she whispered.

Her voice tinged with gratitude. ‘You should take a break as well. I’m sure your men require you.’

‘My troops are fine,’ he said.

He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. ‘They know what to do. My place is here, with you.’

She couldn’t help but smile at his stubbornness, though it was tempered with a sense of wonder. ‘You’re very protective,’ she observed, her tone teasing but warm. ‘I didn’t know generals were trained in nursing.’

‘I’m no nurse,’ he growled, although his utterance had no real bite. ‘But I’ve got some battle medic experience. I’m also not leaving you in the hands of anyone else. I promised to ensure your wellness, including ensuring you recover.’

Liana’s heart swelled, her admiration for him deepening. ‘You’ve done more than keep me safe,’ she murmured, her gaze locking with his. ‘You’ve taken care of me, and for that, I’m grateful.’

He shifted under her scrutiny, unused to such sentiments. ‘It’s my duty,’ he said, his voice rougher than usual. But even as he spoke, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, as if afraid of what she might see in them.

When she asked for fresh air, he helped her to her feet, draped a shawl over her shoulders, and lifted her into his arms.

He strode to the terrace built around her tent and placed her in a lounge overlooking KySyene.

She leaned forward, entranced by the view to the left, where a vast encampment stretched as far as the eye roamed.

Her eyes widened. ‘That’s not an Ilki settlement. Is that a Katánian Sāb?r Hawk war camp?’

‘It is Your Highness,’ came the dry response. ‘I summoned my warriors to my side when you fell.’

She swung her head, seeing a floating phalanx of defenders in a ring encircling the area. Their eyes scanned the horizon with predatory intensity, wings half-folded, weapons ready.

‘Who are they?’

‘My Hawks are standing vigil around the camp’s perimeter and of KySyene. Each one prepared to spring into action at a moment’s notice. They’re a savage force, a confidence booster for the city, residents, and your warriors.’

Liana’s eyes were fixed on the sky above where the Sāb?r sentinels appeared to bristle mid-air with potent energy, as though drawing power down from the heavens.

Her heart lurched at Kaxim’s consideration.

‘You dare to place my borders under siege, Kaxim?’

Liana’s voice was teasing, lilting. ‘After all that has transpired between us?’

Kaxim met her gaze with an acerbic arched brow. ‘Fokk off, Your Highness,’ he growled with a gleam in his eye. ‘You’re not besieged; I’m merely supporting you as an ally of Katánē. As part of my obligation to you.’

‘Is it just duty?’ she asked.

Her murmur lingered, the question hanging heavy in the air.

He froze, the tension in his body palpable. He didn’t answer for a beat, his mind wrestling with thoughts he had long tried to suppress.

When he finally spoke, his voice was strained, as if each word was dragged out of him. ‘My responsibility is to protect you.’

Still, his essence was pure seduction, his muscles rippling under the strain of training and his menacing aura radiating with an enticing energy.

His consideration for her welfare and that of her people only enhanced his sensual power, like a moth to a flame, her body aching for his touch.

When he wiped her brow, brought her a tray of food, and stood guard over her, she couldn’t deny her increasing regard for this fierce and taciturn warrior.

‘But you’ve done more than that,’ she pressed, keeping her tone soft, sensing his conflict. ‘You’ve watched over me as if -.’

She trailed off, unsure if she should continue, but the sentiment was in the open, and she couldn’t roll it back.

‘As if what?’ he asked. His eyes finally met hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.

‘As if you care,’ she finished. Her heart pounded in her chest as she held his gaze.

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes searching her face as if trying to find the correct meaning or the courage to speak it. But whatever he was feeling, he buried it deep, his expression hardening once more.

‘I do care. For the safety of our shared borders and our allies.’

He confessed with a gruff growl, though the words seemed to cost him. ‘Katánē holds you in high regard, my King, for one. So, your security is essential to him. That’s all there is to it.’

Liana nodded, hiding the pang of disappointment in her heart.

She’d hoped his safekeeping signaled something deeper between them. But wishes were for fools.

She also understood duty and his compulsion to maintain that distance, even as she desired it’d be different.

She gave him a subtle smile.

‘ Sante ,’ she murmured.

Her voice rang with sincerity. ‘For everything.’

He bestowed her a stiff, slight bow, his face unreadable. ‘Rest,’ he said.

His tone was commanding and brooked no argument. ‘You need your strength.’

She complied, closing her eyes and settling back against the pillows, but even as sleep claimed her, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Unable to deny the flare of attraction, unspoken but present, lingering in the air like a charged current.

Long after she had fallen asleep, Kaxim remained by her side, his eyes never leaving her face. Common sense said he should leave and put distance between them before things became too complicated. But he couldn’t bring himself to go.

Instead, he stood guard over her, his heart heavy with the weight of emotions he refused to name.

And as the day waned, the man who had always been so sure of his path questioned everything.

When Ja’Kan stepped into the tent to relieve him, Kaxim escaped Liana’s tent, giving the attendant a grim nod before exiting.

He trudged through the camp, his jaw set and eyes cold as steel.

His warriors bowed their heads in deference as he passed, their respect for him carved from years of fighting by his side.

He surveyed the view, his piercing gaze taking in the vista.

KySyene was now under the surveillance of the most fearsome militants in the realm, and no enemy would dare challenge the might of Kaxim’s horde.

On the fields beyond KySene’s walls, the Ilki fighters and Sāb?r Hawks encampment had begun to merge.

The lines between them blurred as the combatants learned to fight alongside each other against a common adversary.

Where once clear distinctions existed, there was unity.

Different banners fluttering in the desert wind, separate fire pits for cooking, and designated areas for training were now merged.

The camp bustled with vibrant colors, sounds, and shared purpose.

Ilki warriors, famed for their swiftness and agility in battle, sparred alongside the lethal and larger-winged Sāb?r Hawks. The latter’s brutal strength and ferocity in combat had long been their trademark.

The rhythmic clang of swords clashing and the sharp whistle of spears cutting through the air created a symphony of collaborative effort. The two armies, who once kept their distance, now trained as one cohesive force, adapting to each other’s fighting styles with mutual respect.

The Ilki were dressed in leather armor adorned with intricate, sun-kissed designs of their desert heritage. Their goshawk rachís were tall and thin, moving with a lightness that almost appeared like a dance in the winds of KySyene.

Their footwork was nimble, their blades quick and precise.

In contrast, the Sāb?r Hawks sported more extensive, darker, heavier wings. They grunted as they slammed their sāb?rs mid-air, testing the strength of their new brothers and sisters in arms.

It was a sight to behold—grace meeting brute force and learning from one another.

During training, the camaraderie that had grown between them was palpable. What had started as cautious curiosity had evolved into genuine bonds of friendship. Ilki soldiers now laughed with Hawks over shared meals, teasing one another about their different fighting techniques.

‘I can’t believe you call that a weapon!’ one Katánian grunted, watching an Ilki soldier dart through the drill ground brandishing a thin rapier. ‘You’d be cut down before you crossed the battlefield!’

The Ilki warrior, smirking, replied without missing a beat, ‘Better to move like the wind than to be stuck in the mud under all that iron!’

The laughter that followed was loud and good-natured, the kind of camaraderie that only came from hard-won respect.

Kaxim passed by another fire pit where Ilki warriors served spiced meat.

One of the men sat at the hearth roused, turning around as Kaxim strode past.

‘Sky Ash,’ the man called.

Kaxim slowed and turned to see Arris, one of the Ilki commanders, rise and wave at him.

He jerked his chin and recognized a second man, RyKin, the handsome, charismatic general in the Ilki army.

‘Join us for a bite,’ Arris invited.

Kaxim’s stomach chose to growl at that moment. Lured by the scent of saffron and cumin, he gave a chin jerk in assent.

Soon, the Sāb?r Hawk Commander was seated around the fire, holding a plate piled high with food.

‘Try it,’ RyKin insisted. ‘We like extra spices in our dishes, which put hair on your chest.’

Kaxim sampled the stew, nodding in approval. ‘Not bad, but it needs a lot more heat.’

The Ilki men groaned.

‘Always wanting to one-up us, you Sāb?r Hawks, ay?’ Arris teased with a chuckle.

‘That’s why ‘strength for the battle and the power to prevail’ is our motto,’ Kaxim rasped with a smirk and a wink.

His eyes lit on distance, where tents open to the desert breeze, fires burning as both armies rested after long days of preparation.

‘On the real, though, this merging of forces is heartening,’ the Katánian commander grunted. ‘This war may have forced us together, but the warriors have chosen to stay allied. I see it in the way they fight, in the way they joke around the fire, and how they help each other in the small moments of camp life. We’re no longer two separate forces. We are one.’

Arris and RyKin nodded.

‘We’ve seen it, too,’ RyKin drawled. ‘A few days ago, the two armies wouldn’t have shared a meal, let alone jest. Now, they swap stories and food like old comrades, united by a common enemy.’

‘Your tactical gamble worked,’ Arris added. ‘I had expected tension, maybe even a few brawls, but to my surprise, our soldiers have learned to respect each other and fight as one. We’re winning already.’

Kaxim jerked his chin in acknowledgment, for his strategy had proved fruitful.

As the camp staff whisked away the plates, spirits in bottles emerged, and the group gathered around the fire began to speak about the battles they were facing.

Much of the conversation centered on asking Kaxim for his input.

The Sāb?r Hawk Commander had never intended to become the point man for the Ilki army. Yet here he was, sitting among their generals, listening to their strategies, frustrations, and pleas for guidance.

Ever since Liana’s injury, the weight of his forces and the Ilki’s had been thrust upon his shoulders.

The Ilkanite warriors, fierce and agile, were skilled in combat but lacked the numbers and coordination needed to repel the K?str?l raids.

They were also smaller in size than the Hawks and K?str?ls. When transmuted, they took on the form of mid-size, krested goshawk accipiters.

RyKin turned to Kaxim. ‘I have a favor to ask,’ he said, arms folded across his chest as the embers of their fire cast flickering shadows on his face. ‘Your men worship the ground your talons tread on, Kaxim. All talk in camp is about your mastery of the sword. You’ve led great armies and conquered lands, and your hawks will follow you to the ends of Pegasi if you command them. You’ve honed them into a fearsome force. Our Ilkan forces, on the other hand, are floundering without proper training. We’re asking for your help.’

Kaxim stiffened, the weight of RyKin’s words sinking in.

The Ilki were not his responsibility. His troops were already stretched thin, managing minor skirmishes within the realm, spread over vast distances to defend the borders of Lower Katánē.

‘The K?str?ls are relentless, launching sudden raids under the cover of darkness, testing their defenses at every opportunity,’ RyKin continued. ‘My soldiers, who are smaller in number and stature, are just able to hold their own. We need bolstering from the Hawk ranks. Whatever you can afford will be much appreciated. Better still, if you lead them.’

‘I have my army and defense matters to attend to, RyKin,’ Kaxim replied, his voice gruff. ‘I can’t be everywhere.’

RyKin’s gaze softened. ‘I know that. But you’ve already been advising us. The men look to you. You’re the only one who can help them now, given the Kwen? is incapacitated.’

Kaxim’s jaw tightened at the mention of Liana.

Fokk, she was the tether keeping him in this place.

He was relentless about his care for her and her progress in recovery as she healed from her injuries sustained in the last battle.

He’d have been gone days ago, but the sight of her weakened form had stirred something in him—a fierce protectiveness, which was now morphing into something else, something dangerous.

His attraction to her was growing, warring against everything inside him.

‘I’m no royal,’ Kaxim muttered, more to himself than RyKin.

‘You’re a leader,’ RyKin countered. ‘And right now, the Ilki need one.’

Kaxim grunted, looking away, his gaze drifting over the camp.

The Ilkanites were warriors, ferocious and proud. But they were uncertain, unpracticed, and sorely lacking in numbers and the discipline he’d instilled in his army.

It didn’t help that his mind kept circling back to Liana. She would want him to assist, and she would expect him to.

Sucking his teeth in reluctance, Kaxim jerked his chin.

‘What would you have me do?’ he growled even though every fiber of his being rebelled against the idea.

He spent the following days working with RyKin and the other Ilki generals, advising them on battle formations, handling the unpredictable K?str?l raids, and regrouping after losses.

The more he immersed himself in their struggles, the more he realized they needed his experience and were desperate, more so than he’d thought.

But it wasn’t just for the Ilki he was doing this.

It was for Liana.

Her kingdom. Her people.

For her peace of mind.

Late one night, Liana’s voice startled him as Kaxim sat by the fire outside the Queen’s k?lajan .

‘Kaxim.’

He’d been sharpening his blade in quiet reflection and turned to see her standing, draped in a cloak, her face still pale from her recovery.

His entire body jerked in reaction, then froze.

She moved with effort, but her eyes shone with a fierce savagery that never seemed to dim. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch his arm.

‘I’ve learned what you’ve been doing with RyKin and our warriors,’ she murmured, her fingers trailing on his bicep. ‘ Sante for helping.’

The brush of his skin set him off.

Scorched with need, limbs reduced to shaking to stem the desire that surged in him.

He flinched, every muscle in his body tensing.

The soul bond between them flared at that simple contact, a searing pain burning in his chest.

He growled under his breath, pulling away from her as if the air around them had become too stifling to bear. ‘Don’t touch me.’

Liana’s eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face before she masked it. ‘Kaxim, I didn’t mean to—.’

But he was already on his feet, backing away from her, his torso heaving with restrained fury.

He didn’t know why he was raging—at her, himself, and the gods who had bound them together. He couldn’t handle how vulnerable she made him feel. Yet also, he couldn’t deal with his desire for her.

‘Your Highness, it’s best if you returned to your bed,’ he snapped, his voice harsher than intended.

Without waiting for her response, Kaxim turned and stalked into the darkness. Adding guilt to his wrath for leaving her hurt and confused.

His heart hammered against his rib cage as he marched through the camp.

The soul bond pulsed with agony, and he sensed her emotions—her disappointment and sorrow—echoing inside him.

It was a searing, inescapable connection, and it enraged him.

He was not worthy of her regard.

He had no right to be touched by her or be in her presence.

He was a warrior forged in blood and battle. Women like Liana deserved more than that.

The mystical connection flared again when Kaxim lay in his tent that night.

He dreamed of her lips on his, their bodies intertwined, making his pulse race and his spirit ache.

The vision was vivid, too absolute. He woke with a start, drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

‘ Nada ,’ he growled under his breath. ‘Damn this khamana , this curse! I’ve fokkin’ had enough of it.’

Unable to stand the torment anymore, Kaxim threw off his blankets and stormed out of his tent.

With a furious flap of his wings, he took to the sky, flying high above the desert ridges, his pinions cutting through the cool night air.

He flew for hours, pushing until his muscles screamed for relief, trying to outrun the bond that tied him to her.

But no matter how far he soared, he couldn’t escape it. The khamana was always present, pulling him back to her.

By dawn, Kaxim returned to KySyene, worn and weary, his body laden with exhaustion. He landed heavy, his feet sinking into the dunes by the camp.

He couldn’t keep running from this—escaping from her.

But what choice did he have?

He was bound to her, and no amount of distance or anger transformed its fokkin’ reality.