Tomorrow's Kingdom (20 page)

“I found the bracelet on Tiny's forehead,” explained Azriel, handing it to her. “Robert must have put it there so we'd know where to look for Cairn and the other survivors. Within minutes of finding it, Zdeno and Rachel headed into the Great Forest to seek them out and enlist their help coming up with a plan to rescue you.”

“Why didn't you go with them?” asked Persephone.

“As the only Gypsy of us three, it was my responsibility to bury my dead and burn the bodies of their murderers,” said Azriel, his arms around her tightening just a little. “I finished the task less than an hour ago.”

“Then let us leave this place of grief at once,” she said gently.

Azriel shook his head. “It's too late to safely venture into the forest tonight,” he said. “Besides, I intend to see my pregnant wife well fed, rightly rested, suitably clothed and properly bedded before we go
anywhere
.”

Hungry and exhausted though she was, at the mention of the last item on his “to do” list, Persephone flushed and her breath quickened. “Fed, rested, clothed and bedded— in that order?” she inquired.

Azriel flashed his wickedest pirate smile. “No,” he purred as he drew her closer. “
Not
in that order, Persephone. Not in that order at all.”

By the time the sun had set and twilight had begun creeping over the land, Azriel had only managed to accomplish one of the tasks he'd set for himself—although it was Persephone's considered opinion that he'd performed it very,
very
well indeed.

Intent upon accomplishing a second task—namely, to see his pregnant wife well fed—Azriel slid from the bed where they'd spent their awkward first night together as husband and wife. From the tangle of sheets in which she was lying, content beyond measure, Persephone yawned and feebly protested that as the wife, it was her duty to get him supper. Silencing her protests with a long, deep kiss, Azriel bundled her into a heavy quilt, carried her outside and set her down beside the fire pit behind the hut. A moment later, he had a blazing fire going, and a surprisingly short time after that—time Persephone used to offhandedly recount to her horrified husband all she'd endured since her abduction—supper was served. The bounty would have been enough to make Persephone weep if she'd not been so intent upon filling her belly. In addition to juicy pieces of roast venison cut from the young deer Azriel had brought down the previous day, there was all manner of food salvaged from the camp stores—ladlefuls of thick pottage, boiled eggs and sausages smothered in syrup, wedges of cheese and hunks of week-old bread that didn't have a speck of green on them.

“I want you to know that I'll never forgive myself for almost having killed you,” Azriel said for the thousandth time as he refilled her platter and handed it to her.

“Really, you must stop fretting about that,” said Persephone, using a piece of meat to gesture dismissively. “I almost killed you too, and you don't see me fretting about it, do you?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I don't,” said Azriel disapprovingly.

Persephone laughed and flicked a cheese rind in his direction.

“By the way,” said Azriel, ducking the rind. “That infernal hawk of yours found us in Parthania—”

“Ivan found you?” exclaimed Persephone, thrilled to know for a certainty that at least one of her animal friends was alive and well.

“He did,” confirmed Azriel, looking considerably less thrilled than she. “He followed us almost the entire way here, and even though he behaved quite as rudely and
disrespectfully as he's ever behaved toward me, I did my best to honour my promise to take care of him.”

Setting down her platter, Persephone clutched the quilt around her with one hand while she awkwardly leaned over and gave Azriel a kiss. He responded by kissing her passionately and suggesting something she might want to do if she was
truly
grateful. With a scandalized squeak, Persephone wriggled away from him, picked up her platter and, with exaggerated dignity, resumed eating.

“Speaking of honouring promises,” said Azriel. “I wish to state for the record that I was not best pleased when you snuck away to face Mordecai on your own after you promised me that we'd face him together.”

“I didn't mean to lie to you. Or rather, I
did
mean to lie to you, but I did not
want
to lie to you,” said Persephone, who was determined to always tell him the truth from now on. “It's just … you gave me no choice, Azriel. Mordecai would've killed you if you'd accompanied me to the palace that day, I
know
he would have, and I simply could not allow that to happen. The important thing to remember is that—”

“You were coming back to me,” said Azriel.

“Yes,”
said Persephone.

Azriel's eyes glowed like blue flames at this, but all he said was, “Be that as it may, pregnant or not, it would serve you right if I up and gave you a good, sound spanking.”

“A spanking?” said Persephone, grinning as she recalled how he'd made the very same threat on that long-ago night she'd caught him trying to steal a chicken from the owner's barn. “That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard in my life,” she said now, repeating the same words she'd said then—but saying them in an altogether more teasing, provocative manner. “You—wouldn't—
dare
.”

“Oh, wouldn't I?” growled Azriel, pouncing on her so suddenly that she almost shrieked.

“Well,” she said breathlessly as he eased her onto her back and began kissing her neck, “maybe you would, at that.”

TWENTY-FIVE

S
HORTLY BEFORE DAWN
next morning, Persephone awoke to the sight of Azriel standing at the end of the bed holding up a full-skirted, fawn-coloured gown.

“Good morning to you, wife,” he murmured, his eyes roving over her in the most delicious fashion.

“Good morning to you, husband,” she replied with a sleepy smile. “That is a lovely gown you have there, though I must tell you I'm not sure it'll fit you across the shoulders.”

“The gown is not for me, Persephone, it is for you— as are the cloak and boots,” declared Azriel, gesturing toward the pile of items laid across the foot of the bed. “Last night after you fell asleep, I removed your treasures from the pocket of the New Man uniform you'd been wearing and burnt the hateful thing to a cinder. While I, personally, would like nothing better than to see you traipsing through the Great Forest wearing nothing but the scabbard at your thigh, the silver necklace around your neck, the ruby ring upon your finger and that pretty smile, I thought perhaps you might prefer—”

His words were cut short by the faint but unmistakeable sound of dozens of male voices in the tunnel beneath the falls.

Jumping to her feet, Persephone unsheathed her dagger from its scabbard (she'd worn both to bed) and tossed it to one side. Grabbing the gown out of Azriel's hands, she threw it on, shoved her treasures into the skirt pocket, pulled on the fringed doeskin boots, swung the cloak over her shoulders and snatched up her dagger. Then she pushed her hair back from her face, looked up at Azriel and breathlessly announced that she was ready to go.

“Why do I have a feeling that you're not going to be content to spend the next five months sitting in a rocking chair knitting baby booties?” asked Azriel dryly.

“Probably because I'm not,” she replied, thinking of the dangerous fight for the throne that lay ahead.

Grimacing slightly at her response, Azriel grabbed her free hand and together they slipped outside.

Because the hut was set farther back in the woods, Persephone and Azriel managed to slip into the gloom of the forest without being spotted by the soldiers who'd no doubt come in search of their comrades.

As they made their way into the Great Forest, Azriel set a slightly less gruelling pace than he normally did when they were travelling with a purpose. Partly this was due to his concern for his pregnant wife and partly this was because he needed to be sure that they were following the correct trail. Since Robert's gang and the fleeing Gypsies had been too many to travel without leaving a discernible trail, they'd done the next best thing: they'd left
many
discernible trails, so many trails that only a masterful tracker would be able to deduce the direction in which they'd actually gone—and even then, only if he were lucky.

Several times throughout the day Persephone tried to find the words to tell Azriel about the promise she'd made to Finn, but each time, her courage failed her. She did not think Azriel would be angry, but she could not imagine he'd be pleased. She was too early in her pregnancy to consider waiting until after the birth of the baby to seek the throne. The realm could not wait five months for a new ruler, and Mordecai
would
not wait five months. His plan to gain the throne by marrying her had failed, but Persephone had no doubt that he had a backup plan— one that almost certainly involved the shedding of blood, starting with hers.

Persephone knew that putting off telling Azriel about the promise was not exactly in keeping with the spirit of complete honesty, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that he'd made no mention of the obvious fact that as the dead king's only living relative, her claim to the throne was a strong one.

It was as if, by mutual accord, they were avoiding speaking of the dangers tomorrow might hold that they might better enjoy the sweet, fleeting moments of today.

Long before darkness fell that evening, Azriel stopped beside an ancient tree with a hollowed out trunk large enough to comfortably sleep two. As he bustled about collecting firewood, he repeatedly informed Persephone that she was to abandon any secret plans she might harbour to drag him inside the tree and have her way with him.

“I'm serious,” he said as he paused to languorously run his hands from his well-muscled chest to his flat belly. “I've much to do at present and later, I'll be spending the night protecting you and our child from the beasts of the forest.”

“I understand,” said Persephone solemnly.

“I mean it,” warned Azriel, stretching in a manner that just happened to show off his sinewy arms and powerful legs to their best advantage.

“I believe you,” smiled Persephone.

Scowling slightly at the fact that she did not appear to harbour any secret plans to ravish him, Azriel laid his cloak on the ground near the crackling fire that she might have somewhere dry to sit. Then, with a rather long-suffering sigh, he set about getting supper. Despite the absence of fresh meat—the only small game they'd seen that day having been the occasional scrawny brown bird swooping through in the leafy canopy high above—the meal was a good one, for after Persephone had fallen asleep the previous night, Azriel had filled a pack with enough food to feed an army.

“I do not intend that you and our child shall
ever
want for food again,” he said as he settled himself behind Persephone so that she'd have something comfortable to lean against. Briefly leaving off stroking her hair, he planted a lingering kiss on the sensitive spot behind her
ear and said, “I do not intend that either of you shall ever want for
anything
.”