Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Vaasa spent the entirety of the trip back to the City of Salt on a remarkably fast ship, refusing to let awe strike across her features. She’d heard of these sorts of vessels, ones that could cross the mighty Settara in a day, but she never expected to be on one. The salt lake spanned miles, splitting the west like a book’s spine. Built above the compact captain’s quarters, this small lookout deck only covered a quarter of the vessel. She sat on a bench bolted to the wooden ledge of the upper deck, legs to her chest. She could look over the edge and see the men and women at work on the deck below.

People could say what they wanted about Icruria, about Mireh, but they were hard workers. It made sense that their forces were notoriously vanquishing. On the tumultuous waters of the Settara, less experienced men would drown.

If this vessel could withstand the salinity of the Settara, the icy ocean Vaasa grew up next to could be theirs to roam, if the Icrurians ever dared take it.

They propelled the boat themselves, rowing as one, and much to Vaasa’s surprise, Reid spent his time with the workers at the oars. He moved in shifts like the rest of them did, resting and then continuing the push-pull motion like he wasn’t tired. Every so often, her eyes would drift down to him, then pop back up before he could catch her watching and assume her interested.

Vaasa was thankful for the reprieve—both from the prying eyes of the guards and from her supposed husband. He often looked at her as if she were a puzzle, and she didn’t like the idea of being solved.

After the first few hours, she fell into the beauty of the Settara and forgot the rest of the world. Few Asteryans would ever see this side of the continent. Though Vaasa had studied ancient maps drawn in the days before Icrurian unification, so few people had survived the web of rivers that branched from this lake and toward her home empire that the maps were outdated at best. Those rivers acted as a shield against the rest of the world. The only vessels that could navigate the waters were those of the Icrurians, and it was only at Reid’s direction that one had been waiting to bring Vaasa to Mireh for their wedding. The emerald waters of the lake eventually bled to turquoise. Layers of white folded around the shoreline their vessel followed, and she could smell it in the crisp air and taste it on her tongue. Salt.

All around them were rolling hills of green and yellow wildflowers, beige stalks of some heat-resistant plant poking up in places nature could not keep out. Trees didn’t dot the landscape the way they did in her home. In Mek?s, the capital city of Asterya, where Vaasa had grown up, the landscape was swathed in nothing but snow-covered mountains and trees. Here, in this hilly alternate universe, she found herself sinking into the way the sun felt on her skin and how it reflected off turquoise waters.

She had never seen Icruria this way before.

Resentment flooded her veins, and she straightened her back, remembering who she was and why she was here. No amount of freshness would erase what she would have to endure just to win her life back.

For the remainder of their travels, she kept her lips shut and her eyes focused on the horizon. When the sun set and night reigned in the sky, Vaasa fought the part of her that wanted to slip into a wary sleep. She’d always been used to the cold, and while the frigid air of the night made her skin pucker, spring had swept over western Icruria in a tolerable chill.

Mireh finally appeared under a blood moon, red and ringed in fire, in the late hours of the night. Multicolored buildings lined the expansive docks the men and women now tied their vessel to, lanterns hanging in the windows and illuminating the domed tops of many of the buildings. Stars speckled the sky and swayed upon the salt-capped waves. Eyes trailing up the one winding river that broke the city in two, she pinched her lips and looked away. She’d navigated her way out of this city in nothing but a cloak and a nightgown three months ago when winter still reigned. Had stripped down naked in an alley to shove on pants and an unassuming blouse.

She’d seen enough of this city.

Instead, she listened to the croaking of frogs, a chorus in the air that melded with the sounds of wolves howling along the distant shoreline. She’d only ever seen the solid white ones of the mountains, not the gray and red ones that roamed the shores of the salt lake.

“Vaasalisa,” Reid’s voice called to her from behind. The Wolf.

Turning, she found him watching her with tense shoulders that betrayed his easy grin and relaxed expression. Perhaps he was only sore from such hard work and truly was at ease now that he was home. Not that she’d yet seen him appear anything other than at ease.

“We’re here.”

Vaasa’s eyes stung with fatigue, threatening to close, and her limbs felt like lead. Standing and trying out her legs again, she only wobbled a little before she forced herself to find her composure. Still, he lurched forward and tried to help.

She backed away from him.

With a furrowed brow, he took a step back and gave her the space she needed. “Have you turned it off since leaving me?”

“What?”

“Your instinct to run.”

Her eyes narrowed. No one intelligent ever turned off that instinct.

“You are safe here,” he said, as if it was obvious.

There wasn’t a place in the world where Vaasa was safe. “I put a knife to your throat.”

Extending a hand to beckon her forward, Reid said, “I’m not the vengeful type.”

Vaasa could have laughed had she felt the need to react to him. Reid rested his hand on the small of her back to guide her off the ship and past his corps. A foreman with his consort, defensive of her very being, even if it was all a lie. When the warriors looked at her, sizing her up, Reid’s fingers tightened in her now too-thin beige shirt. Bumps rose on her arms as she walked, and a small shiver trailed down her spine. The heat was blistering during the day, but nights here were formidable.

Much to her dismay, Reid of Mireh slung off his black cloak and draped it around her shoulders. Warmth rushed over her, and she took a small breath. “I was born on the ice,” she reminded him.

“That doesn’t mean you deserve to be cold.”

Insecurity lanced through her, enough to make her tear her eyes away and stare at the black boots upon her feet. Affection such as this made her want to squirm—she didn’t understand it like he did. Still, she spoke before realizing she was going to. “Thank you.”

He grinned.

Waiting on the floating dock that threatened to toss Vaasa into the current was a small group of people, all on horseback. One in particular did not look happy to see them as she broke from the crowd and rode forward.

Swinging from her dark horse, a tall woman stalked up to them, removing her crested helmet and tucking it under her arm. Blond hair was pulled back to reveal the sharp angles of a pale face, tangerine mouth forming a frown. As the woman’s blue eyes fell upon Vaasa, they narrowed as if assessing a threat.

Smart woman.

The coils in Vaasa’s muscles clenched tighter. Just south of the line between this stranger’s eyebrows lived an ice—in her gaze, in the pull of her mouth.

Reid’s arm wrapped around Vaasa’s waist, and she froze for a moment—and then melted into his warmth as if on instinct. Pretend you love me , he’d said.

“You found her?” the woman asked flatly. She appeared to gauge the lack of distance between Reid and Vaasa, the sight causing the line between her eyebrows to grow more prominent.

“Vaasalisa, you remember Kosana, my commander of arms,” Reid said with conviction. “Kos, surely you remember my wife.”

Wife . What a claim.

“Who could forget her?” Kosana said just as begrudgingly as before, though this time with the vicious smile of a warrior.

No way this woman didn’t know what occurred on their pseudo wedding night. Perhaps Kosana was the unfortunate soul to have found Reid of Mireh tied to the bed, half dressed and bleeding. Noticing the protective glint in her eyes, Vaasa wondered if Reid’s commander had enjoyed that sight more than she let on. Daring a glance at Reid, she found a stern expression. He was no longer at ease. A possessiveness shone in his eyes, and Vaasa knew better than to assume that was reserved for her.

Kosana was important to him in one way or another, then.

Vaasa gave a wicked smile, and something pulsed between her and the commander, as if their own wills fought for dominance in the little space. Life bloomed once again in Vaasa’s stomach, false as it might have been, at the challenge.

Reid shifted his weight.

Another man, older than the rest and not dressed in the armor of Reid’s corps, swung down from his horse and dusted off the length of his pristine black coat. His fair skin had been delicately touched by the sun in these early spring days. Astute and well put together, much like the foreman of Dihrah had been, the silver-haired man sauntered up to their little crowd with a peek between Vaasa and Kosana. He didn’t smile or show much emotion at all, and something about that made him the most comfortable person Vaasa had yet to meet. “Vaasalisa, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m afraid we never got the opportunity to speak the night of your wedding. I’m Mathjin, Reid’s advisor.”

He met her gaze directly with focused gray eyes.

How exactly did Reid intend to navigate this? Neither of these people—important people, she suspected—would believe the two of them to have a happy union. What did he intend to say in order to explain away her absence?

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said, dipping her head as she’d learned was customary for the people in Icruria. They did not bow like the Zataarians did. Did not shake hands like the Asteryans. If they touched at all, it was on the forearm, and embraces were reserved for only the closest of companions.

“Well taught, this one,” Mathjin said with a practical calm.

“Shall we?” Kosana asked Reid, pointedly writing off Vaasa.

Ugly magic stirred in Vaasa’s veins, lit by the pulsing need she felt to run or hide or defend herself. Teeth gritting, she punched it down. Poison played upon her tongue, but she swallowed it and followed them all to the waiting horses. One in particular was a stunning Icrurian horse with a silky fawn coat and a mane and tail the color of ink. That same jet color crawled up the horse’s legs and snout, and with a shake of its head, it adjusted into a natural intimacy with the foreman of Mireh. Hand landing upon the animal’s chin, he pressed his own forehead delicately to the horse’s.

“Duch is his name,” Reid told her, peering over his shoulder to grin. “Bought his mother when I was seventeen; he came along about five years later.”

“How old are you?” Vaasa asked, realizing she didn’t even know that much about him.

“Twenty-seven.”

“Young for a foreman.”

“I thought you knew little of Icruria,” Reid said, hand still resting on Duch.

Vaasa didn’t say another word.

He gestured for her to mount the horse, and the moment she did so, he slid his foot into the leather stirrup. With languid movements too graceful for a mountain like him, Reid lifted into the space behind her, so close his chest brushed against her back.

“One horse?” she said.

“You can ride with Kosana, if you prefer.”

Vaasa went rigid. “No, thank you.”

Reid chuckled. Arrogant bastard.

On the ride back to his home, exhaustion once again slammed against Vaasa’s mind. She felt on the brink of losing control. No matter. She kept upright, eyes alert, and scanned the streets they trotted through. Some people waved, others smiled and tipped their heads, but no one crowded the foreman and his escorts. Instead, they went back to whatever they were doing before. Some people ate at eateries and drank from copper glasses against the backdrop of strung lanterns and jewel-colored awnings. Even this late at night, the city of Mireh pulsed with an energy unlike any other place Vaasa had been. Even in Dihrah, they did not spend so much time outdoors. Never mind the frozen landscape Mek?s became for nine out of the twelve months of the year.

Passing through a busy square, Vaasa watched as people danced in the streets to fast-paced music from drums and stringed guitars. Laughter floated around them, couples embraced, and people seemed to be drinking together or sharing their food. Community was the first word that came to mind, and the entire thing made something in Vaasa’s heart lurch. Made her stomach tighten and her eyes drift back down to the horse.

People did not share their food with their neighbors where she was from.

They kept to themselves, bowed their heads before early dinners, and didn’t have much to dance about. Would they ever flood the streets? Would they have even been allowed to?

She’d spent most of her days in the fortress grounds. Studying, reading, trying to avoid Dominik or sitting obediently at her father’s side, translating. For that, she took the brunt of Dominik’s jealousy and insecurity—always afraid she would somehow usurp him.

My chameleon, so good at blending in , her father would praise. You will do great things for this empire.

And so she would study harder, practice her languages longer, because she knew what could happen if she didn’t. Ozik had warned her over and over about the fate of a useless daughter: becoming someone’s miserable wife, and in turn, someone’s miserable mother. So when he taught her a new language, she did as the advisor demanded. Every single time. And with each nation those languages helped her father conquer, she knew the cost was her morality.

Vaasa had never danced in the streets. Would never dance in the streets.

A waste of time, she decided, and stopped watching. She only looked up when they passed the High Temple of Mireh, with its reflective white stone steps that glowed pink under the red-tinged moon. On the back side of the multiple-story stone building was a window, one she knew, even if she couldn’t see it. Her memory of slipping out of it brought the smallest of rebellious grins.

Looming on the skyline of the city was a taller, pointed building complete with a clocktower and bells. The Sodality of Setar, named for the god of language and writing. Something in Vaasa tugged toward the sky-kissing stone, some deeply entrenched thing in her gut she didn’t understand. The enormous campus called to her.

The sodality disappeared as they rounded another corner, and with it, the instinct to follow.

Their small parade of three horses passed through two more districts, both quieter than the first one they’d ridden through. And the farther they went, the fewer people were around. As they trotted up a winding walkway, the buildings disappeared, and they began to make their way up a road lined in gangly trees and yellow grass. It hugged the coastline, just outside of the bustle of the city, and she could see the dark waters of the Settara poking through the trees.

They turned a corner and entered the grounds of a small estate.

Before them stood a villa against the backdrop of the open lake, settled perfectly upon a sloping hill that would lead directly to the water. The same wildflowers and yellow grasses Vaasa had seen along the other edges of the Settara dotted the hill. Those flowers trailed up a modest home and hung from wooden trellises at the entrance. Made exclusively of red and orange stones, the villa was neither grand nor simple, complete with a few stories marked by the glow of lantern-filled windows. What looked to be a garden sprawled in a small courtyard she could just make out through the single stone archway.

“Where are we?” Vaasa asked low.

“Home,” Reid said from behind her. Vaasa could only bristle a moment before he swung himself off the horse and offered a hand. He helped her down from the sturdy horse and guided her forward again.

“We’ll speak tomorrow,” Reid told his commander.

“Reid, I—” Kosana said, anxious eyes darting to Vaasa.

“Tomorrow,” he said again, no room for negotiation in his tone.

Dipping her head, Kosana took her leave without another word.

Reid led them both under the archway without explaining himself or the situation. Vaasa knew that the commander had intended for them to be separated, for her to be kept under watch. Gazing around, she took in each vulnerability of the villa, a warning biting at her heels.

No gates? No guards?

Nothing about this place made sense. Didn’t Reid wish to protect himself? Didn’t he want to be left alone? They were so close to the rest of the city, so accessible. Someone could just walk along the salt-covered shore and climb the hill.

Was this how he did things, then?

Vaasa made a quick mental map of the home as they entered. There was no receiving area, but instead a well-furnished living space complete with brown couches and a wooden table. Bookshelves and a liquor cabinet stood tall against the warm terra-cotta walls. Three hallways trailed off the main room, and they took one down a wide corridor. After they passed a few rooms, the rush of cold air hit them again as they traveled across a small breezeway, the lake on the right side. Through the stained-glass double doors, they entered a room.

Simple was again the first word that came to mind. The beige walls were mostly bare, save for two dark oak dressers and a floor-to-ceiling mirror. A forest-green couch graced one wall, a white dressing screen next to it. Off to the side, sheer curtains led into a bathing chamber that Vaasa didn’t get a good look at. Instead, she stared at the expanse of the view, framed by two floor-to-ceiling glass doors with panels that covered an entire wall.

The Settara lay beyond those doors, beyond the stone veranda. Yellow and orange wildflowers hung from a wooden trellis, just like the main entrance. There were no other homes, no other prying eyes, through those windows. Just the reflection of the bloodred moon off midnight waters.

Did he consider this safe? Couldn’t someone find their way in?

Reid leaned against the doorframe behind her, and when Vaasa turned, she found him looking tense for the first time since he’d found her. Jaw tight, he tilted his head and strands of his hair fell from the leather strap he used to pull it back.

“Thoughts?” he asked.

It’s probably the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in.

I’ve never lived with doors, only windows.

“It’s a room,” she replied. “Where are you sleeping?”

Moving to slip off his coat, Reid gestured with his hand to the four-poster bed, the one draped in cream sheets and russet animal furs, facing the enormous panels of glass.

Something dropped in Vaasa’s stomach. Why show her this room if it wasn’t for her? She hated asking about things like this—accommodations, food, access to basic necessities. The weakness of it made her skin itch, and this late in the night her skin felt thin. Gripping her bag a little tighter, she said, “All right. And where am I sleeping?”

Nimble fingers at the back of his head undoing the leather strap in his hair, Reid used his chin to gesture at the very same bed.

And then he had the audacity to turn and amble into the bathing chamber as if he hadn’t just implied what he had implied.

Infuriated, Vaasa dropped her bag on the floor and stormed after him through billowing white curtains into the attached room. Prepared to spit some choice words, she slid to a stop when she gazed upon the setup.

The entire left half of the chamber was inlaid stone reminiscent of opal, complete with an enormous showerhead and a claw-foot bathing tub behind glass doors. Leafy vines hung from the ceiling, spilling over pots, and a little wooden bench was settled just next to the tub.

Her home city was far too cold for this sort of infrastructure—in the snowy mountains, water brought into homes would freeze and cause the vessels to burst. She’d seen showers such as these in other areas of Asterya, in Zataar, too, but not in Mek?s.

Shaking off her curiosity, she tossed her hand to her hip. “I thought I made myself clear: You will not take me to your bed.”

“I will not take you in my bed,” Reid said as he pulled at the center of his sashes and tugged the fabric over his head, dropping it to the floor without a care. His hair spilled to his broad shoulders, his inked chest entirely exposed to her once again. “But I do have members of my corps who live in this home, and if they are to believe we mean this, I can’t very well have you sleeping in another room.”

“Husbands and wives sleep in separate rooms all the time,” she argued back.

“Sure, in Asterya, where husbands and wives hate each other.”

“Oh, and we’re just great friends.”

“You don’t hate me, and I certainly don’t hate you.”

She tossed her arms into the air. “I almost killed you on our wedding night.”

“As I told you, you underestimate how much I enjoyed that.”

“You’re sick.”

He just shrugged, then moved his hands for his breeches. “Would you like to stay? This shower is big enough for two, and it isn’t a bed, so if we’re going by the aforementioned rule, it wouldn’t technically be breaking our agreement if I took you in here.”

Mouth gaping, Vaasa cried out in frustration and stormed out of the bathing chamber, flinging the curtains closed behind her.

He roared with laughter and said something about blades.

Oh, he might not hate her, but she hated him. She would never be alone again. Never be able to sleep peacefully, to do what she needed and wanted in her own space. She’d have to share every waking moment with this asshole.

Magic stirred along her fingertips, and Vaasa shook her hands and stumbled until the backs of her knees hit the bed. The stupid, useless bed.

She could sleep on the couch.

No— he could sleep on the couch.

The sound of water running emanated past the closed curtains and Vaasa hurried behind the dressing screen, diving into her bag. She had a long shirt, her stupid acolyte robes, and—

The red nightgown. It was one of the few things she hadn’t sold on her escape to Dihrah.

Inspiration and power flared in her chest and Vaasa put the thing on, waiting behind the screen for him to finish. Within just a minute or so, Reid turned off the water and she heard him stepping along the stone in the bathroom. The curtains parted.

She slid from behind the screen, and Reid, with only a towel hanging from his waist, stopped suddenly. By the looks of it, he stopped breathing. Eyes dragging up and down her, he said, “I thought I’d have to work much harder to get you back into that.”

Running a hand through her short hair, Vaasa glided to the bed and pulled back the furs, her hands trailing along the same silken sheets their wedding bed had been dressed in. Arching her back just slightly, she peered up at him. “Husband and wife, yes?”

Tentatively, Reid nodded.

“Then what’s yours is mine.” She gestured toward the couch. “You can sleep there tonight.”

He snorted. “You can sleep on the couch, Wild One. I’ve worked all day, and I’ll be damned if I sleep anywhere but my bed.”

“I will not sleep in the same bed as you.”

Shrugging, Reid moved to his dresser. “Like I said, the couch is there. It’s yours if you want it.”

Like a damn child, Vaasa slid onto the bed, the center of the bed, and crossed her arms.

Reid stopped. Stared.

Then he prowled across the room.

Landing at the bottom of the mattress, he crawled forward until he came close, and Vaasa started to press into the headboard. Fire blazed in his eyes, and he wouldn’t drop them from hers. Hands falling to either side of her, he moved his face closer until he loomed above her, his chest covering her torso, just as he had done the night of their wedding. “I will be sleeping in this bed,” he drawled, and Vaasa started to breathe heavier. “Out of respect for your wishes, I’ll at least wear pants when I do. Out of respect for mine”—he flicked his gaze up and down the length of her—“change. I will not have you in that damned thing unless you intend to let me take it off you.”

Vaasa’s lips parted at about the same time the fire in her chest burned hotter. Anger filled every empty crevice of her mind, and the tight leash she kept on the wicked magic strained. “And if I do intend to let you take it off me?”

“You will not win this game, Wild One.” The bed dipped as Reid separated from her, once again padding back to his dresser. “Despite your assertions, you are not nearly as good a liar as you think.”

“Didn’t seem to pose a problem on our wedding night.”

He looked over his shoulder as he plucked out a shirt. “I underestimated you. I will not be making the same mistake again.” He threw the shirt into her lap. “Now, change and decide where you wish to sleep.”

The dark mist at her fingers whispered with violence and cruelty. It purred encouragements of anger and bloodshed and tugged at her sensibilities.

His eyes flicked down to it, and Vaasa could have sworn he scowled at the way the magic curled around her hands. Something about that look from him lit some deep, insecure part of her that wanted to hide under the sheets and never be seen again.

She knew it was hideous. Knew it was disgusting.

Balling the shirt into her hands, Vaasa considered each angle she had. Continue to argue and lose. Keep trying to win the way she’d won their wedding night and potentially piss him off more. All roads led back to one thing: the shirt in her hands.

Silently, she stood and walked behind the dressing screen, stepping out of the red nightgown and tucking it back into her bag. The shirt he gave her was practically a gown by itself, reaching to her midthighs. After dressing, she stood behind the screen for a moment longer and seethed.

Three years.

Just three years of this, and she would be free. She could go wherever she wanted; the magic would be gone. That was why she was here. No bed, no room, no damn view of a lake could be more important than that.

Reid’s voice floated from the other side of the screen. “Your brother sent this some weeks ago.”

All thoughts of timelines and freedom disappeared.

A letter fell from the top of the screen, dry parchment landing on the floor in front of her bare feet.

Quickly she bent and opened it, back pressing to the wall and eyes skimming the smoothly written Asteryan words.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

To anyone else, it would seem harmless. Concern for her well-being, even.

But to her, the message was clear: he wanted an update on how she was doing—not in her marriage, the election, or anything else surrounding Reid.

He wanted an update on the curse.

Which meant she had to break it before Dominik arrived to do the job himself. And when she did, she wouldn’t need Reid of Mireh a moment longer.

The violence and rage and magic drained from her limbs and curled into a terrified ball in her stomach. Fear was a poison on her tongue and in her throat, but she swallowed despite the dryness.

When Vaasa walked out from behind the screen, Reid was dressed in gray pants like he had said he would be, and she didn’t let herself look at him for more than a second. Not as he moved under the animal furs on the right side of the bed. “What does your brother want?”

She lied. “To know how I’m settling in,” she said as she approached the bed.

Reid looked at her. He made no attempt to hide the carnal glint in his eyes as they landed upon the peaks of her breasts pressed against his shirt.

Hands folding into the warm furs, Vaasa tugged.

The blanket slid from the bed and onto the floor. Reid sighed in annoyance as she gathered the furs in her arms and marched to the couch. She lay down upon the cold leather and folded the blankets around herself, tucking them all the way around so he’d have to physically lift her to get them back.

“Just sleep in the damned bed, Vaasalisa,” he growled.

Turning so she wasn’t facing him, she said with casual cruelty, “Why would I? I don’t have to pretend I love you in this room.”

Silence.

Then Reid of Mireh blew out the lamp at his bedside, and the room went dark.