Evil Twin

“Severely.”

Her breath hissed angrily between her teeth. But she said nothing until, “And then?”

“When it became clear that I would not be cowed, my father sent me to the army. To separate us, he said. Though at times I wondered if he’d hoped I would die in some battle or other.”

Her fingers tightened on his forearm. “But you did not die. Though you must have hoped Tamas would?”

“But he did not.”

“Rather selfish of him,” she said lightly. “How would you have done it?”

Kill Tamas? “In truth, I stopped dreaming of challenging him or defeating him. They sent me away to become a warrior, and I did. So a fight with him would be as if I was fighting a weakling child.”

“He would not come out well,” Echo agreed.

“Nor would my honor. It would be akin to punching a babe. So instead I hoped he would have an accident—that maybe he would fall into a shit pit while drunk.”

“Death by humiliating lethal mishap. A fitting end for him.”

“So it would be.”

“But you not alone now,” she said quietly. “You found people to rely on and to trust.”

Among the warriors. “So I did. But I still hated everything he was.”

“He was a fool to put you in charge of his army, then.”

“He never did. I took control of it—and then used his army to do what Tamas ought to have done for Gocea.”

She sounded delighted again—though perhaps her delight was partially because he’d drawn the horse to a halt and was lifting her down from the saddle. “Did you enjoy that? Going behind his back?”

“I did. Though he might have known that I was doing it and did not care—just as he did not care if I replaced his officials. In the end, it was less work for him and Tamas knew that I would not come after the throne.” He set her feet on the ground but didn’t let go of her waist. “Though the pleasure of going behind his back was not the reason I did it—that was merely the sweetness. But I took control of the army simply to do what needed to be done.”

Echo nodded, then a shadow crossed her face and she said slowly, “If your plan had gone as you intended that night in his bedchamber and you married Sapphira—”

“I am glad it did not.”

“But if you had, you’d have given Phaira what it needed. True strength and guidance.”

“And if you had succeeded with Tamas”—though he could not bear to think of it—“you would have also done well. You could have taken over all of Gocea and he’d never have known it.”

Did she wish for that outcome now? A kingdom that she could have essentially ruled alone…and a king who would have demanded nothing of her. Not love. Not trust.

Yet Bane asked for everything she found so difficult—and frightening—to give.

Did he ask too much?

“Look.” Her voice was a whisper. She touched his arm, gestured behind him. “There is Tamas’s other twin.”

A wild pig. Rooting and snorting at the base of a tree.

Her laughing gaze rose to his. Slowly her amusement darkened.

“Lift me up, my king,” she demanded softly.

Heart thundering, Bane did.

She wound her arms around his neck and claimed his mouth in a slow, wondrous kiss.

The first kiss that she had claimed from him. And his blood flared hotter, but all the agony slipped into glorious pleasure.

One day, she would trust him. She would love—

A panicked squeal ripped open the quiet. The pig. Molten fire erupted through his veins as he tore his mouth from hers. Once glance was all he needed.

A pack of undying beasts. Two already on the pig. Four coming for them.

Coming for his wife.

The red haze of battle dropped over his mind. In a surge of motion, he tossed Echo astride the warhorse that was charging forward on his command. Bane vaulted into the saddle behind her.

Slavering from enormous jaws, howling as they began the chase, the beasts were but twenty feet behind them.

“Go!” Bane roared and bent low over the horse’s neck, shoving Echo forward with him. Within three strides the warhorse was at a gallop, racing up the hill, only barely slowing as Bane guided it through the minefield of leg-breaking stones.

The beasts weren’t slowing at all. But he could not lose her.

He would not lose her.

His sword was in his hand, the blade already prepared with ragwort paste. “Take the reins! You’ll be safe with the warriors. Do not slow the horse until you’ve reached Jorin!” he shouted over the howls behind them and the thunder of hoofbeats. “Swear it to me!”

“Bane!” she screamed. “No!”

“Do not fight me on this. Swear it to me!”

Another scream ripped from her, a cry of helpless frustration. Then—

“I swear!”

So his heart would be saved. Nothing else mattered.

Kicking free the stirrups, Bane launched himself out of the saddle and into the path of the oncoming pack. No time to think. Only react. Even now Jorin and the others must be gathering up their weapons and racing down the hill toward Bane. Too late.