Chapters (50)
- The Plan Commences
- Table of Contents
- The Grieving
- The Mortal Blow
- The New Queen
- The Marital Bed
- The Trembling
- The Reinforcements
- The Vision
- The Setback
- The Incomplete Circle
- The Game
- The Gale
- The Plan
- The Splendor
- The Breakfast
- The Formidables
- The Sisterhood
- The Allies
- The Discipline
- The Significance
- The Patra
- The Doors
- The Finnie
- The Final Choice
- The Worth
- The Chalk
- The Unicorns
- The Dance
- The Vows
- The Enchantments
- The Surprise
- The Trick
- The Confrontation
- The Honesty
- The Kiss
- The Call
- The Decision
- The Duo
- The Wrongs
- The New Advisor
- The Welcome
- The Pet
- The Sacred Horn
- The Decryption
- The Royal Wedding
- The Plan Commences
- About the Author
- Books by Kristen Ashley
- Connect with Kristen Ashley
Instead, he shared, “His mother was a great beauty. Trajan simply had bad luck and he did not make it better by being interesting or amusing or good-natured and pleasant to be around, but instead he was simply an arsehole.”
“He did not succeed,” she declared.
Mars was confused.
“In being an arsehole?” he asked.
“In sullying your handsomeness.”
At this announcement, Mars growled again and lifted his head to kiss her, but she pulled away.
“Why did you not act before to save the women of Airen?” she queried.
His wife asked this fraught question as a knock sounded on the door.
He called for the maid to come in, and Silence, having begun to get used to being served while naked and abed with her husband, simply pressed up to sitting on a hip and wrapped the sheet around her.
He liked this progression too.
Very much.
The maid put the tray at the side of the bed Silence was not occupying, as had been their wont over the last day, and after asking if there was more required, and learning there was not, she took her leave.
Silence had served his coffee, swallowed down the draught and was nibbling a roll when he addressed her question.
“With Gallienus, and with Trajan, it would have meant war, my queen.”
“Does it not mean war now?” she asked.
“A revolt is different from a war. Especially with strong allies that will significantly decrease the chance of bloodshed.”
“Do you offer women from Airen asylum?”
He did not answer that.
“Mars,” she pressed.
He sighed before giving her what she desired.
“The clans and tribes very much did not want to get drawn into this unpleasantness, my monkey. They will gladly and stalwartly defend Firenze, but they are often embroiled in clan clashes when not united to fight for Firenze, and even if fighting is a way of life, few of them had an interest in shedding blood for another realm’s problems.”
“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t,” she whispered with obvious disenchantment.
“It is known to me there is a secret system that several tribes abet, offering succor and safe travel to The Enchantments, or deeper into Firenze where the dunes spread for many miles and only the most hearty and nomadic of our tribes reside. Once delivered upon them, they take in these women who have escaped, and it is the same as them disappearing from the face of this earth.”
“And you do nothing to stop these tribes from their endeavors,” she said.
“I do not. Nor did my father.”
“And that is all.”
She continued to appear disappointed.
He drew in breath.