“Battle?” she breathed.
“Tomorrow, we quell the rebellion,” Callum told her and she stared at him a second before she closed her eyes tight.
When she opened them again, they were bleak and that look cut him to the bone.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t want to spoil your Christmas,” Callum answered.
She watched him again, her face gentling at his words and then took in a shallow breath and let it out on another fluttering sigh.
Then she suggested, “Maybe you should explain what ‘battle’ means.”
“I don’t have time,” he replied and when she opened her mouth he gave her another squeeze and continued, “And you don’t want to know.”
“But I don’t… you can’t… I mean, how can you battle when… I mean, will my people see it?”
He shook his head. “Your people’s government knows it’s coming, when and where. As usual, they’ve prepared.”
Her mouth dropped open in horrified wonder.
His head dropped and he marked her hair with his temple. “It’ll be over soon, baby doll,” he assured her, lips at her ear, hoping at the same time that he was right.
Then he gave her another squeeze, her arms grew tight and she jerked her head away.
“You don’t… you know, as king, you don’t fight.” She paused and stared at him, fear obliterating the desolation in her eyes. “Do you?”
He gentled his voice further when he explained truthfully, “Unlike your generals, in our battles, I would not be a good commander if I didn’t only fight at my warriors’ sides but lead them into battle.”
Her body jolted, the fear now stark on her face and she cried, “But you can’t do that! You might get hurt!”
Her strong reaction pleased him just as much as it hurt him which was to say, for both, immensely.
“Sonia, I must.”
“Have you tried talking to them?” she asked desperately.
He had. Mac had. His grandfather had.
For millennia they’d attempted a diplomatic solution. The rebellion remained staunch in their beliefs.
“We’ve tried that,” he told her.
“But –”
“Sonia, I have to go.”
Her hold grew tighter.
“Baby doll, I have to go.”
She stared at him as tears gathered in her eyes.
The first time witnessing his mate’s utter despair at the thought of him entering battle, unable to stop himself, Callum bent his neck and kissed her, thoroughly and long enough to taste her tears yet again.
He enjoyed everything that was her but if he never tasted her tears again for the length of her short life, he’d be able to live his long one much more contentedly.
When he lifted his head she lifted a hand, slid her fingers into his hair and then watched as her thumb slid along his eyebrow, his cheekbone then his lower lip.