Heir of the Gods

Ch. 7: Sheer Madness

Calix stared at the princess, still attempting to process what she had told him. Trying to process the gleam clinging to her lashes, the minuscule tremor in her voice. The despair and hopefulness in her words.

The first sign of weakness he had seen in this princess seemingly made of fire and steel.

She said no more after that stunning revelation. That sickening truth.

His heart thundered in his chest and he sat all the way up. The lightly tanned skin of her arm turned white beneath his fingers and he abruptly let her go, not wanting to hurt her.

The silence turned brittle as glass around them. He knew he was taking too long to answer, but couldn't help it considering he had no idea what to say. 

How could the Heir not know how to wield a sword? How was she supposed to survive her travel years if she didn't?

The answer smacked into him with all the force of a thrown brick as she gathered the sheets toward her chest, making that sensation of sickness grow. 

How stupid of him. How insane of the king.

Cassia let her eyes fall, holding the sheets around her. Her shoulders hunched defensively and she murmured, "I... I shouldn't have asked. It's not right of me, to ask you to risk your life."

A laugh barked out of him before he could stop it, and her eyes shot back to his, fury making them sparkle. That breathtaking pride straightened her shoulders and she moved to fling herself from the bed, but he lunged for her.

Cassia snarled and thrashed like a Marbel jungle cat as he pinned her to the bed, but stilled at his next words.

"I've risked my life for the empire since I was fifteen and my father threw me into his army hoping to receive an apologetic letter about my untimely death." He ignored the throbbing in his ankle and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. She gave him a look of uncertainty and mistrust, and he wanted her to stop.

So he brushed the backs of his fingers against the soft curve of her cheek and whispered, "Yes, I will teach you."

If only so he could watch in smug satisfaction when she returned triumphant three years later to the astonishment of her despicable father.

She sucked in a sharp breath, a startled brightness wiping away the vulnerability. Slowly, she lifted a hand and touched his mouth, then traced her fingers along his jaw before sliding them into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Would you ever lie to me?" she breathed. "Would you ever betray me?"

Why would he? She was the Heir. He owed her his allegiance.

But he could feel how important the answer was in the hard beating of her heart—the way it shook her body. He could hear it in the small catching of her breath. He could see it in the fierceness that mostly hid the desperation in her dark honey eyes.

"I swear it on the blood of my brothers, Your Highness," he said. "I will train you and I will not tell a soul."

"Not even the king?" she asked, silver briefly lining her eyes. "Even if he asks?"

Calix scowled. The king had betrayed his trust and lost his loyalty the moment he'd pulled his money and his banner from that last stretch of land in Marbel four years ago. Men had fought and bled and died for every scrap of that hostile land by order of the king, but some lordling who had never set foot on a battlefield had convinced Durus that Marbel was won and they should turn their attention now to Brunia.

Six months later and Calix had been raging over reports detailing the butchering of the garrison at Carnum, the last outpost before the edge of the southern world—according to the empire anyway.