No one takes him up on it, though, and he throws the axe to the ground and then crosses the bridge into Castle Yshrem.
“They’re opening the gates,” the queen murmurs. “Come. My husband will be with them.”
We head back into the keep and down the stairs, the queen utterly silent and the only sound the jingle of armor of the men who accompany us. When we arrive into a large hall, a cheer goes up, and for a moment, I think they’re cheering the queen. But it’s clear when we get inside that no one even knows she’s there. The place is absolutely packed with men, some dressed in leather and fur, some dressed in armor of varying types. All of them are filthy and cheering.
They also completely block the doorway, so the queen can’t enter.
She turns and looks at one of her men in frustration.
“Make way,” he bellows, storming forward, only to have his words drowned out by another cheer. The man shoves his way through the crowd, clearing a path for the queen, and once people realize she’s approaching, they part for her.
I follow close behind, because Aron’s somewhere around here. He—
He’s there, right in front of me. I stop as I clear the wall of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, jostling each other. Aron’s in the center of the room, standing next to a young-looking man with long black hair and an eyepatch. He wears a cloak of startling white fur and leather leggings, and grins at the queen when she approaches, offering her his hand. Is that the king? Not that I care.
All of my attention is on Aron, who’s practically unrecognizable.
From head to toe, my Aron is covered in blood. His hair is plastered to his scalp, his clothing demolished and shredded, and his skin is a mucky, dark red. His eyes shine bright—green and brown—in his face, and as I watch, he pulls another arrow out of his arm. I can still see two more sticking from his side.
He looks like a damn mess.
I’m so relieved to see him I want to cry.
He grins at something the king says, and then I can’t stop smiling as I approach. I’m so thankful he’s here and whole, so happy.
The queen whispers something in her husband’s ear and then he looks at me. Aron does, too.
And his pleasure fades away to rage.
“Why is she bleeding?”
Thunder booms overhead, and my head feels as if it was just struck by lightning.
I stagger, pressing my palm to my forehead. “Aron! Stop it! Control your temper!”
He immediately moves to my side, his hands on my gown. It’s a pale green and my hem is muddy from all the running around. “I will control my temper when I see for myself that you aren’t hurt.”
I look down as his big hands move over my abdomen, and hiss when his fingers burn over my scrapes. Sure enough, I look down and there are two dark, wet spots, one on each side of my stomach. I’m confused until I remember the sword that tried to slice me in half. “Oh. I guess that guy’s blade connected a little more than I thought.”
“Blade?” Aron says quietly, and the thunder grows louder.
I grab his chin and force him to look me in the eye. “If you give me another nosebleed it’s going to hurt you a hell of a lot more than these little scratches do.”
He clenches his jaw, but I can hear the thunder ebbing. The room around us is utterly quiet, as if no one is sure what to think. “Tell me you’re not wounded badly,” he finally manages, straightening. His fingers twitch, as if he wants to haul my tunic off my body and check for himself right here, right now.
“I’m not hurt badly,” I promise, and give him a light pat on the cheek. Truth be told, I’ve had so much adrenaline rushing through me I don’t know if I’m hurt that bad or not. I’m pretty sure it’s all right, though. I’d feel it if things were worse, wouldn’t I? So I beam at Aron as if it’s all good. “We made it in one piece, though, which is more than I can say for you.” And I gesture at the arrows sticking out of his side.
Something rumbles in his chest that sounds like amusement. A hint of a smile flashes across his face and then Aron grabs me and hauls me against him. He kisses me fiercely, his teeth clashing