They lay with their eyes closed, basking in the late afternoon sun. There was nothing but the sound of their own breathing and the wind in the wheat. A horse nickered in the distance and a tall, golden haired man sat up in a sea of grass to look out over the plain. A stray cloud cast the field into a brief spell of shadow, making the heat of the sunshine that followed all the more glorious. How long had they snoozed, baked in their own sweat after a long session of training. Malcolm yawned and stretched his legs and toes, the leather of his boots gave a sigh under strain. He kicked them off and crossed his legs at the ankle, perfectly content.

The horses have wandered.” Jared’s voice broke the silence, dispelling the false sense of peace they had found here.

“They won’t go far,” Malcolm said, by way of protest. He wasn’t ready to pick up their gear and head back to the village for the evening. The dark haired knight gave another yawn, eyes yet to open.

Jared fell back against the bed of grass and turned on his side to watch his friend, his head propped up in his hand, a red, long-sleeved tunic tied about his temple like a makeshift hat.

“What?” Malcolm said. He could sense the man was studying him, without daring to confirm such with his own eyes.

“Nothing,” Jared said, “I’m just glad you’re home.”

Malcolm smiled, the gesture weary and short lived. “It’s nice to be back,” he admitted, though his tone left the baron unconvinced.

“Will you stay a while longer, in Warrick?”

Malcolm was silent at that. He opened his eyes, his green gaze fixed on the distant mountains of Mayce. A soft knot formed at the centre of his brow as he studied the weathered peaks.

For a moment, Jared was worried he may have said something to upset the man. “What is it?” The Lion asked.

The Wolf bowed his head. “My request to have the boys this Frost was denied. I haven’t seen them for two years… Atler says I should wait until Bloom, when he hosts one of his lavish balls,” Malcolm explained. “He wants to introduce me formally… to my own children.”

Jared reached over and put his fingers through the man’s hair before he gave a rough tug of the wayward mop of black curls. “Then it’s settled, you will stay with us.”

Malcolm pressed his palm to the man’s face in a playful shove. “Don’t be absurd, you have your own family now—things have changed.”

“You’re my family,” Jared said, as he rolled onto his belly to rest his chin against folded arms.

Malcolm mirrored the move and stared back at his friend. As nice as the gesture was, it wasn’t the truth, Jared would always put his family first and Malcolm second. That’s how nobility worked. “Run it by Sa’ra first?” He suggested.

Jared smiled, “Sa’ra loves you—ask her yourself.”

Another shadow passed by them as the clouds rumbled overhead. The men looked skyward, just as the heavens opened and the rain fell heavy across the plains. They scrambled to their feet, tripping over one another in their haste to fetch the horses. Malcolm bent to take up his discarded weapon belt and boots before racing his friend across the field. Jared snatched up his things, including his bow and sprinted in bare feet towards his mare, his laughter rivaled only by the thunder moving through the valley.


“Seven!” Sa’ra gasped, “you’re soaked!”

It had taken the pair the better part of an hour to catch their horses and ride back to the village. After brushing the animals down and returning to the manor, they had missed the evening meal, but were each met with a cup of warm tea.

“Let me take your coat,” Sa’ra said, easing the heavy garment away from her husband’s shoulders.

Malcolm finished his tea in two mouthfuls and excused himself from the room.

Sa’ra eyed Jared. The look she gave him asked more than any breath dare lend.

“He will be all right,” Jared said.

She pressed a hand to the man’s bare chest and sighed. “Our friend has not been himself since he returned.” Her accent was thick and exotic, but she spoke slowly for Jared in whispered words.

The man agreed with a nod. “He seemed happier today—the happiest I’ve seen him since—”

“—Shh,” Sa’ra said, worried they might be overheard. “The girls have just gone down.”

Jared pressed a kiss to her temple. You are a wonder,” he told her.

“Will he stay?”

The Lion nodded. “He might—I think he is feeling a little displaced at the moment.”

“Ask him to stay,” Sa’ra said, concerned. Malcolm had been a part of her life in Renemere for longer than Jared—after all, he had introduced them. “He knows he is always welcome,” she whispered.

“Is he?”

Sa’ra frowned.


Jared undressed at the edge of the pool and stepped into the warm water. Steam curled away from the surface in soft, white ribbons, forming a mist in the small stone chamber. Malcolm sat at the edge of the pool, his arms crossed against the cold stone floor. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face, his cheeks flushed due to the heat of the bathhouse.

“Seven, it’s hot in here,” Jared said, “you should have added some water from the well.”

“I don’t mind it,” Malcolm replied. He turned to face Jared, their bare forms masked by the milky water.

“That’s because you survived a summer in Nejem,” Jared teased.

Malcolm offered a half smile and stared down at the water.

“What’s that look?” Jared asked, “you seem far away.”

“Nothing,” Malcolm replied without thought, “only… I will be a complete stranger to my son…”

Jared frowned. “One day he’s going to know and love you.”

“On Atler’s time.”

“You married a noble woman,” Jared said, “it’s all part of the package.”

Malcolm wiped his face.

“Did something happen in Nejem? You stopped writing to us after the first season.”

“You weren’t getting my letters?” Malcolm asked. “I had a feeling my captain was reading them… everything stopped after you mentioned Mayce.”

“But I signed by the code name we agreed on—and I didn’t use the house seal like you said.”

“As soon as he got wind that I was somehow related to nobility, everything stopped.”

Jared looked angry at that. “That’s absurd! Why would he block your line home?”

“I’m not sure, but he made life miserable over there. I’m not sure I can continue serving under his command,” Malcolm admitted.

“Don’t let him win,” Jared said. “You’re the most stubborn man I know—rise to every challenge he sets for you and shatter his expectations. If he breaks you, he’s won whatever senseless game he’s playing. Don’t let him!”

Malcolm went quiet at that. After a long pause, he stood up and walked across the pool to make his way out. “I’m going to get some sleep,” he said.

“It’s early—I’ll have one of the servants bring you something to eat.”

“Thank you—but I’m not hungry.”

“Malcolm?”

The Wolf turned as he pulled a towel about his hips.

Jared averted his gaze, the move subtle. He looked thoughtful for a time before seeking out the man’s emerald gaze. “Why don’t we travel to Andaris and stay in your cottage? Sa’ra and I could help you renovate. You’ve been talking about fixing that old place up since you bought it. It would be nice for all of us to get away and do something useful with our time.”

“Sa’ra wouldn’t mind?”

“I bet she would love some time away in the capital,” Jared said.

“What about the girls?”

“They are safest here with my brother and his wife.”

“Why not?” Malcolm said, after taking a moment to think about it. “It might be fun.” He forced a smile, but found it came far easier than he had imagined. “See you in the morning?”

“Say goodnight to Sa’ra?” Jared suggested. “She’s worried about you.”


Malcolm left the bathhouse and followed the hallway to Jared’s wing of the manor. He lifted his hand to knock on the woman’s door, just as she pulled it open. “So… you can still do that,” Malcolm said.

Sa’ra smiled, she had sensed his approach, though she couldn’t explain how. Something about Malcolm had always pulled at her, like a moon drawn to a planet. “I still do that.” She grinned.

Sa’ra had the kind of smile that others found infectious—not even Malcolm was immune. He smiled in turn and leaned against the doorway. “I came by to say goodnight.”

“Goodnight? But I’ve barely seen you today,” Sa’ra protested in jest. She was dressed and ready for bed herself, wearing a blue silk garment that brought out the colour of her eyes, which seemed to change with her mood. At present, they were a steel grey with hints of blue and green. When she met Malcolm’s eye, however, they turned the colour of cooked honey, a type of orange hue that burned a deep shade of gold. “Will you stay in Warrick for a while? We’ve really missed you… I missed you,” Sa’ra whispered. If she knew one thing, it was that the walls in noble houses had eyes and ears.

Malcolm raised a hand to caress her face. He touched the pad of his thumb to the soft brown beauty mark on her right cheek. “No—we’ve had a better idea,” he admitted.

Sa’ra stared up at him, though she considered herself tall, she was over half a foot shorter than the knight. “Do tell,” she said, in a voice like velvet.

“What do you think about the three of us staying in the capital, just until Frost? We can base at my cottage and arrange things from there.”

“I like the sound of that,” Sa’ra said, “it’s been far too long since we all took a trip together.”

“I’ll let you and Jared decide when we leave.”

“Tomorrow,” Sa’ra said, full of glee.

“Tomorrow it is.” The knight leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight,” Malcolm mouthed.

The woman took hold of his hand and squeezed with care. “Until tomorrow.”


“What is all of this?” Jared asked.

Sa’ra blushed, guilty. It had been an age since she had gone shopping in the capital and now that she had her pre-baby body back, she intended to make the most of her morning trying on and buying dresses. She loaded her bags into a trunk and closed it hurriedly, as if it were still possible to hide her spending habits from her husband.

Jared grinned, just pleased to see her smiling. “Where’s Malcolm?”

Sa’ra made a face, something between a smile and a grimace, that showed far too many teeth. “This is the second trunk,” she admitted.

Jared left the shop to find Malcolm struggling to load the first trunk onto the back of the wagon. He jogged over and lifted the other end. “Need help with that?”

Malcolm smiled, “almost broke a sweat.”

If they had managed to maintain any sense of privacy, it had been shattered by Sa’ra insistence on making purchases at the most high end establishments in the city. Soon enough, Jared was recognised by someone from the local rag and questioned about his reasons for visiting the capital, followed by a great deal of delving into the whereabouts of the rest of his family and whether or not they intended to attend the ball at the palace come Bloom.

By the next day, the news was already printed and, any direct quotes, completely blown out of context. Jared sat on an old rocking chair on the porch, reading the news allowed, “where the Baron of Warrick and his wife will be in attendance, in spite of the fact that Journey Krome has also agreed to grace the event with her presence.”

Sa’ra gasped in mock horror, “how will we ever survive the night?”

The look on her face made Malcolm laugh.

Sa’ra giggled. “A man goes on one date.”

“It wasn’t a date!” Jared protested. “It was one dance, in Frost, years ago!”

Malcolm smirked. “They were caught kissing in the library!”

“So the newspaper would have the world believe,” Jared said, and rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s high time we invented a scandal of our own,” Sa’ra said, as she seated herself in Jared’s lap. She wrapped her arms about his neck. “But what?”

“We don’t invite trouble,” Malcolm said.

“Enough of it finds us,” Jared agreed.

“When did the two of you get so old?” Sa’ra teased.

“Are you implying we have forgotten how to have fun?” Jared asked, and pinched his wife’s side.

Sa’ra squealed. “Ah! You’re always so… noble,” he said.

Jared and Malcolm shared a look before Malcolm shrugged. “Perhaps there was a time—”

“—Never admit guilt!” Jared said.

Sa’ra smirked. “See, even Malcolm agrees.”

“What am I agreeing to?”

“Let’s go to the beach!” Sa’ra suggested. She snatched the paper from Jared’s hand and rolled it up before giving him a playful bop on top of the head. “Come on! It’s been too long.”


Jared had been tasked with carrying Sa’ra towels and boots, once she had grown tired of walking in them. Malcolm had been lugged with the picnic basket and a woven mat made of tightly weaved flax fibers. They walked for a couple of miles down the beach before settling on a secluded spot. The harbour was a pinprick in the distance, with tiny ships going to and from the bay all morning. Malcolm set the mat down and ditched the basket on one corner and took his boots off to leave them on another, in case the wind decided to pick up.

They settled down on the sand to cook in the sun, enjoying what remained of Harvest before the days started to grow cold and short. The clouds hung about overhead, subtle in their movements and usual shapeshifting. Jared lay bare in the sand, his shirt strewn across his lap in a rather haphazard way. Malcolm, on the other hand, opted to bare all, positioned on his stomach, head heavy against folded arms. His time in Nejem had left him darker than ever, his skin a pleasant shade of bronze.

Sa’ra had been the only one brave enough to take a dip, returning from the water’s edge with soaked hair, the beads of water on her skin glittering in the sunlight as she walked. She stepped over Malcolm and he flinched as a few cold drops of water met his back. Jared smirked, witness to the unexpected assault. Sa’ra sat between them on the edge of the mat, her toes buried in the warm sand. Malcolm thought it rude to avert his gaze and instead closed his eyes, as if lulled to sleep by the weather and company he kept. He could have slept, should have… almost wished he had, when his senses were stirred by a pleased hum teased from Sa’ra. It was the kind of noise swift to win the attention of any hot blooded man.

He opened his eyes then to see Jared’s hand drawing back and forth along the length of the woman’s inner thigh. The knight had not intended to stare, but found himself taking in her silhouette, the way her skin prickled under Jared’s touch, the soft, near invisible hair on her thighs, and the deep, rosy colour of her nipples, stark against pale breasts. It was obvious Sa’ra was not the kind of woman who bathed in the sun all day, or ever. This was not a show for his eyes, and yet… She tipped her head back as her husband’s fingers drew closer to the apex of her long, slender legs, her wet, golden curls stuck to her back. Malcolm’s direct line of sight to Jared had been blocked, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the man knew what he saw, or even, intended it so.

Quickened by the display, Malcolm’s heart drummed in his ears. It was all far too taboo. Jared stole his hand away and Sa’ra pinned him with a look of mild disappointment, as something akin to a whimper escaped her.

“Let’s not make our friend uncomfortable,” Jared murmured.

Malcolm’s pulse screamed in his ears as he fought to decipher what the man had said, his normal senses dulled by the display.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sa’ra asked, as she reached out to brush her fingertips through the knight’s black hair, taming a curl that hung down against his brow.

“A drink sounds lovely,” Malcolm said, his gaze met by Jared as the woman moved to fetch them each a cup of mead. The Lion’s features were difficult to read. Had he ever smiled at him that way before, like a man who had just shared a secret.

Sa’ra returned with a cup for Jared. She took a seat then and drank from her own cup before offering Malcolm a sip. He shuffled onto his side to accept the cup and drank as two sets of eyes studied him and then one another. Malcolm was not ashamed of his body or the natural reaction the couple’s antics had invoked and so made no attempt to shield himself. He did, however, find it odd that Jared only seemed to experience the same after gazing at him. Was it odd for a man to find pleasure in knowing other men desired what was rightfully his? Malcolm found it difficult to know what to feel. Flattery, distress or a mix of both? In that moment he experienced a healthy dose of confusion, and a strange bout of acceptance.

Sa’ra bent to kiss Jared, her behind exposed to the knight at her back. Malcolm swallowed what was left in the cup, made all the more brave by its contents, but not enough so that he would dare to look. Jared ran his hand up the back of his wife’s thigh and grasped her backside. He squeezed the flesh of her cheek. Was it wrong to envy the sand that dusted her skin.

“Touch me.”

The whispered words cut through him like a jolt of lightning and, in that moment, Malcolm couldn’t be sure which of the pair had uttered them.

Jared reached across to graze the back of Malcolm's hand with his fingers before he raised his own digits to Sa’ra leg once more. “Touch her,” he encouraged.

Malcolm’s heart was in his throat. Had he heard that right? He eyed his friend, a tight knot formed at the centre of his brow. Jared recognised his confusion and smiled. “Touch my wife, Malcolm…”

“Cut it out, you two,” Malcolm replied, “let’s go for a swim?”

Their reply was a kiss shared before him, slow and intimate, an act to silence his doubt perhaps.

“Please,” Sa’ra whispered, and like a fool, he obeyed.

He reached out and traced the length of her leg from heel to hip. Sa’ra gave a shiver, the care with which he touched her, unexpected. The knight flattened his hand against her behind and brushed his thumb over the shape of her lips, surprised when the pad of it was lost to her heat, as she pressed back against his touch. Malcolm’s member burned with desire. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and delved deeper, the thread of his very soul plucked like a harp string by the moan Sa’ra gave, stirring something long buried. The knight blinked, his body not his own, but a stranger to him. Had he crossed a line there was no going back from.

His thumb, made slick, was withdrawn to paint the woman’s skin with her essence. Sa’ra shook with adrenaline and fear, a dangerous concoction of excitement. She sat back on her feet with her legs spread, knees buried in the sand. The Ecrede woman reached out to take her husband’s member in her hand, familiar and warm, before she reached back to put her fingers in Malcolm’s hair. He inched closer, eyes locked with Jared’s as he bent to press a kiss to Sa’ra hip. The Lion smiled and Malcolm’s confusion only mounted. Could he have shared Vanessa? Not in a hundred summers.

Malcolm dropped his arm against Sa’ra thigh, his fingers finding her core once more. Jared looked up at his wife’s face to find her sat with her eyes closed, lips parted in quiet delight. Sa’ra’s fingers moved over Malcolm’s side and brushed over the silky skin of his length. She moved her hips against his fingers as her hand closed about his girth to form a picture of him in her mind with blind exploration. It was a wonder, she thought, how two men could be so different.

The woman shared a look with her husband and Jared nodded in response to a question that went without breath. Sa’ra turned and Malcolm rolled back to give her room. She took his hand and brought his fingers to her lips before sucking the taste of herself from them. Malcolm was sure his features had settled into a look of dumb-shock, stiff with surprise.

“Can I kiss you?” Sa’ra asked.

His mouth was dry and it took him a moment to answer with a nod. She bent to press a kiss to his lips and touched the tip of her tongue to his own. He deepened the kiss and Sa’ra melted against him. A moment later, she broke the kiss to sit back in the sand, her body rested across Malcolm’s chest. Sa’ra smiled and he could tell she was dreaming up something wicked

“What?” Malcolm grinned, nervous all of a sudden.

“Will you kiss Jared?”

Malcolm looked across at the man, his brow knitted. What had his friend made of the suggestion? Jared smirked and crawled towards the pair as Sa’ra dipped a hand behind her to stroke Malcolm’s cock. Malcolm squinted at his friend as he leaned in to meet the man’s kiss, only to pause an inch from his mouth. Did the Lion expect the Wolf to indulge with the same eagerness as which he had afforded the Ecrede? Malcolm lifted a hand to thread his fingers through Jared’s hair, pulling him into a kiss. Sa’ra giggled at the show, tickled by the display of affection. Jared combed burly fingers through black hair, leaving Malcolm looking as if he had endured a hard night’s rest.

It was Jared who broke the kiss, sensing his wife was near. He turned to peck her on the lips, the work of her hands abandoned. Malcolm sat up and looked out at the ocean to watch the waves break. He smiled and shook his head at a stray thought, or perhaps a silent prayer that this day would not haunt him. It was normal for him to overthink things and complicate situations that might have otherwise brought him peace. To flirt with old friends was no crime, after all, he was unattached.

Sa’ra pulled on Jared’s long-sleeved tunic and sat on the edge of the mat to warm up while Jared encouraged Malcolm to join him in the surf. They raced one another to the water and wrestled in the waves before swimming out beyond the breakers to where the swell was calm and the water deep.

From the shore Sa’ra watched them. She had always been curious about her husband’s connection with their mutual friend, but couldn’t help but feel she had found more questions than answers in the exchange. Was it jealousy, she wondered. All the stolen glances and time Jared dedicated to another man, rather than his wife? Was that the first kiss they had shared? Would it be the last?


The sky blushed pink as they returned to the cottage, sun kissed and tired. They ate a selection of sliced fruit no one had fancied at the beach and drank the last of the mead. Malcolm flipped through the pages of a book, reading up on the history of Clead while Jared worked on a pile of letters he had ignored since Malcolm’s return from Nejem.

“Day and night,” Sa’ra said, as she watched them.

Malcolm peeked over the top of his book at her, only to read on without comment.

“What was that, darling?” Jared asked.

“You two are like day and night,” she said. “One never without the other, yet so very different in your own ways.” Sa’ra got up to run her fingers through Jared’s long golden mane. “And I am the moon, for all her envy.”

“Nonsense,” Malcolm remarked, “you’re more like the sun—you light up every room you step into.”

“The moon too can cast a glow,” Sa’ra challenged.

“But is she as kind and warm hearted as you, my love?” Jared asked, placing a hand on her hip.

Sa’ra grinned.


Had the bed ever felt so small, Malcolm wondered, as the frame creaked under the weight of him. The heat of the day lingered, trapped in the only bedroom in the place. Moonlight shone through the shutters, causing the lace curtains to emit a soft white glow. None of the trio had been able to sleep, but lay in silence with their eyes closed or staring out into space.

Malcolm turned on his side to face the pair, heat radiating off of Sa’ra’s exposed leg. It seemed they had all caught a bit too much sun. She pressed her back to Malcolm, who folded a heavy arm over her side. Her hand came to rest over his where she then guided it over the silk of her nightdress. The bed gave another groan as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Sa’ra’s skin tasted like the sea. She rolled onto her back to look at him and even in the dark he could see her smile. He dragged his hand up over the silk of her dress to her breast and teased the sensitive peak through the fabric. Soft flesh pulled into a taut bud under his caress, his affection rewarded with a soft moan.

Jared reached out to tease its twin before cupping the woman’s breast to draw into one mouth, silk and all. Her chest heaved, senses overwhelmed. She turned to kiss Malcolm hard on the mouth, and whispered something inaudible. A moment later, she was on her knees, spreading her thighs as she positioned herself over the knight’s face, to smother him with her sex. Her fingers tightened against the headboard as he met her challenge without hesitation, a trait she liked in a man. For Malcolm, in that moment, she could not deny her attraction.

A hand dipped beneath the band of his trousers and it took Malcolm a moment to realise it was not one that belonged to Sa’ra. He lifted his hips to allow the fabric to be pulled away and freed his legs blindly. Apprehension gripped him as Jared’s hand took hold of his length. He closed his eyes and sucked on the hot flesh against his mouth to taste the woman’s sharp essence, mixed with that of the sea. Sa’ra’s thighs squeezed either side of his head as she shook with silent pleasure. Every muscle in her core tightened as the Wolf pressed his tongue inside of her, driving her mad with need.

She slipped away from him, stepping backwards on her knees with care, she worked her way down over his form. As she lowered herself against his rigid cock, a soft moan escaped her, followed by a sharp gasp as the Wolf saw them joined in one swift motion. A pang of jealousy curled tightly in the Lion’s stomach, but it was not at his wife’s pleasure, but the closeness she shared with that of his friend. She hummed a pleasant sound and rocked in an achingly slow motion, determined to keep every inch of him to herself as her body adjusted to the swift invasion.

Malcolm closed a fist in her hair and pulled her into a kiss, forcing her to bow to meet his waiting mouth. She obeyed without resistance, made giddy by the act of the Wolf taking charge. Jared stood up on his knees and guided her hand to his middle. The work to arouse him was already done, but it pleased him all the same to have her hands on him in any capacity. He moved to position himself behind her and demanded his turn with a rough smack to her backside. She yelped and reached between herself and Malcolm to withdraw his slick member, the void soon filled by her husband as she continued to caress the Wolf, teasing him.

Jared withdrew and eased his tip onto the tight hole of her backside, while Sa’ra saw to it that Malcolm was buried to the hilt once more. She rocked back against the attention of both men with the utmost care, hyper aware of her husband’s intentions. He had taken her this way before, something she had expressed displeasure with, having been ill prepared for such an assault. This time, he was gentle. Sa’ra pressed her fingers to the small bud between her legs, sweeping them back and forth. As Malcolm closed his mouth over one of her breasts, she cried out, coming undone. All too quickly the build up of pleasure became too much and she jerked away from the pair, freeing herself from their hold.


“What was that?” Jared asked.

Malcolm glanced across the living room into the bedroom where Sa’ra rested alone on the bed. He pushed the door closed to the washroom and turned to face Jared.

“Who started that!” Jared demanded.

“I don’t know,” Malcolm said, before he spoke up again in an attempt to keep the woman out of trouble. “I think it was me?”

“You think?”

“I know…”

Jared was quiet as he washed up. Malcolm’s heart raced. It was one thing to upset his friend and another to take advantage.

“Jared I’m—”

The Wolf was silenced with a kiss, a very unexpected and confusing kiss. It threw him off balance, a cup sent to the floor with a clatter by the hand he used to catch himself. Jared broke the kiss, his temple pressed to Malcolm’s.

“Fuck,” he mouthed, putting three feet between them as Sa’ra raced to the door.

“Is everything all right?” She asked, lifting a hand to knock.

Malcolm pulled the door open and she stared at him wide-eyed, as if she had read something on his features he had not wished to share. “My fault,” he said, “I knocked a—” He turned back, not sure what he had knocked over.

“It’s just a cup,” Jared said, as he bent to collect it.

Sa’ra touched a hand to her chest, wrapped in a dusty champagne coloured, silk slip. “Oh?” She answered. Why had she sensed fear? “Come back to bed?”

“Shortly,” Jared agreed.

Sa’ra smiled and made her retreat to the bedroom.


Jared stood pinned to the spot for a moment, guilt evident on his features. He wanted to apologise, but anger and pride dictated otherwise. After some hesitation, he moved to pass Malcolm and return to the bedroom, but the Wolf saw to it that his path was blocked. The door was pushed shut and held in place by the dark haired knight.

The decorative markings on the door handle bit into Malcolm’s hand as he squeezed the metal, consumed by silent fury. All his life he had been taken advantage of, pushed and pulled, groomed, and coached in directions that veered from the path he might have chosen for himself. His mother, his captain and his king. Malcolm could not bear to have his dearest friend join the list of those he had grown to despise. Did he not see? Could he not understand! Perhaps not, Malcolm thought, at war with himself. Jared was of noble birth. He was conditioned to take, deaf to the word no and accustomed to getting his way.

Not him.

Not now.

Not ever.

Malcolm slammed the baron against the wall and pinned him there. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, eyes burned with threatened tears. He leaned in and kissed the golden haired archer. It was his turn to take. He would no longer stand still and suffer in silence. Malcolm refused to accept that he was put on this realm to give, to bend, and bow, and accept his lot without complaint. Rough hands wrestled with strong limbs until the Lion found his arm pinned behind his back, with his cheek mashed against the wall. Malcolm pressed his hips to the man’s backside and Jared went rigid with revelation.

“No!” he said, “Malcolm—stop!” He kept his voice low, conscious that his wife was in the next room.

Malcolm put more tension on the man’s arm and reached up into his long blonde hair to ball a fist about the windswept locks, holding him still.

“Malcolm… please—I’m sorry!” His voice sounded more desperate than Malcolm had ever heard him. “I’m sorry! I…”

Malcolm grit his teeth and broke the arm lock to sweep a tear away from his cheek. He turned, unable to look his friend in the eye.

Jared rubbed his arm and watched the Wolf. Lips dry, he sucked in a breath and spun to face the knight. “I love you,” he said. “I don’t know why I kissed you… but I know I don’t want that…”

Malcolm stared ahead of himself at the closed door, unable to escape his anger and frustration.

“I love you—and I can see that I’ve hurt you. I can’t explain what I feel—”

“—Try!” Malcolm demanded, another tear brushed from his eye before it could fall beyond his lash line.

“I just want to be close to you,” Jared said, “I’ve known that since the moment I met you. I’m jealous of anyone who stands in the way of that.”

“But you don’t want—”

“—No!” Jared assured him, “no… I don’t want that.”

“Then what?” Malcolm asked. “Do you want to do that to me?”

“No,” Jared said, his tone soft. He lifted his hands to the Wolf’s shoulders and bowed his head to rest his temple against the nape of the man’s neck. “I’m sorry—I acted impulsively… I was reckless, without any regard for your feelings.”

Malcolm turned. “I’m confused,” he admitted.

Jared looked down at his hands before he found the courage to meet Malcolm’s gaze. “Can we just forget this ever happened?”

“Impossible,” Malcolm said.

Jared smiled.

“I don’t understand… I’m not sure I ever will?”

“Do you love me?” Jared asked.

“As if you were my own flesh and blood,” Malcolm admitted.

“Then that is enough,” Jared said.

“Are you…”

“Am I what?” Jared asked.

Malcolm cast his brother from his mind. “Nothing—it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters.”

“…Like Owen?”

Jared shook his head. “No. No,” he confirmed, with little to no hesitation.

“Then what?”

Jared sighed. “I don’t know—all I know is, I don’t feel the same way about anyone, as I do you.”

“What about Sa’ra?”

“That’s different,” Jared said.

“How?”

Jared threw his arms up in defeat. “I don’t know… I’m attracted to her—I—Malcolm please don’t make me do this…”

The Wolf folded his arms. “All right… all right,” he said, happy to drop the subject for one night. “But if—”

“I will,” Jared said.

“You don’t even know what I was about to say!” Malcolm protested.

“Sure I do… you want answers and when they come to me, I promise I’ll share them with you.”

Malcolm was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “Answers,” he agreed. Jared stepped past him and Malcolm turned. “Jared.”

“Mm?” The baron spun to look back at him.

“I’m sorry—about tonight…”

Jared smiled. “Don’t be. I could have stopped it at any point.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“She loves you too, you know.”


The grey mare nudged the knight’s back as he stopped in the lane to pull a gate closed. He turned and caressed her muzzle with gloved fingers and led her towards the cottage. Tied to a post near the house, he removed her saddle and went to fetch a brush from a wooden box on the porch. A shadow caught his eye beyond the kitchen window and he looked to find Sa’ra waving at him. She came to the door a moment later and stepped out onto the deck.

“That was a quick trip. We weren’t expecting you back until tomorrow.”

“Captain Yilmaz wasn’t home,” Malcolm said. “I left the documents with his wife, Leonide.”

Sa’ra smiled. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Lovely—Thank you,” Malcolm said.

The Ecrede woman returned a few minutes later with a cup in hand. She watched from the porch as Malcolm brushed his mare down and washed the sweat from her neck and chest. It didn’t take long for him to clean her up, check her feet and release her into the front paddock. That was when the man noticed his friend’s horse was missing.

“Where is Jared?” He asked, as he approached the house to put his tools away.

“He’s gone to the capital to send some letters and to meet up with his cousin.”

“He left you here alone?” Malcolm said.

“You seem surprised?”

“I am,” he admitted, “the King’s Road is only a few farms east of here. It sees all kinds of trouble.”

“Surly not during the day?” Sa’ra asked.

“Less so.”

“Have you had any unwelcome guests out here before?”

“No, but—”

“—There you have it,” Sa’ra interrupted him, “perfectly safe.”

Malcolm sipped the tea, he knew better than to argue with Lady Ashan. She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but offer the same in turn. “Just us for dinner then?”

“Yes. Are you hungry?” Sa’ra asked.

The knight shook his head and set the mug down on the window ledge to remove his boots. Sa’ra pulled up the long sleeves on her plain white dress and took off her own shoes.

“Will you take me for a walk up the hill?” She asked. “I want to see what the countryside looks like from up there.”

“You want to go now?”

She nodded, “unless you have something better to do?”

Malcolm undid his weapon belt and hung it inside the door before he peeled his socks off and walked barefoot across the garden. Sa’ra followed, lifting her skirt as they made their way across the lawn, the grass kept short by a couple of sheep Malcolm owned. He helped her over the fence and started the hike up the rise, headed towards a large poplar tree that provided a good amount of shade at the top.

“The cottage seems so much smaller from up here,” she said, once they reached the top. She sat down in the shade of the tree and looked out at the view.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” Malcolm said, “that cottage has served me well.”

Sa’ra giggled. “You share a lot of memories with it?” She teased.

Malcolm shook his head, red-faced. They hadn’t talked about what had taken place a few nights before. He turned away to avert his gaze and hide a sheepish smile.

“The Mighty Wolf of Krome, rendered speechless?” She added, wearing a rather wicked grin.

“Will take more than that,” he told her.

She chuckled and reached out to him. “Come sit with me?”

He sat down in the dry autumn grass and lay back to look up through the branches of the tree at the sky. Most of the leaves had already turned yellow and red, and littered the ground around them. Sa’ra leaned against the knight’s side and smiled as his arm went around her. Burly fingers toyed with the golden ends of her wavy hair. She studied the profile of his face and pressed a hand to the man’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“No,” Malcolm said, his tone easy and gentle.

“Do you regret it?”

He turned his head to make eye contact with her. His heart sped up and Sa’ra moved her hand over it. Traitor, he thought of the hard working muscle. “No,” he whispered, careful about how long it had taken him to answer.

“Nor do I,” she said, slow but without hesitation.

“Does Jared?”

She shook her head. Sa’ra propped herself up on her elbow. Her blue eyes stared into pools of green as she whispered, “Would you do it again?”

Malcolm blinked and thought about his answer for a while. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Oh?” She breathed. “Did Jared say something?” Sa’ra sat up, her gaze locked on him.

Malcolm pulled himself up and rested his arm on his knee. “The other night?”

Sa’ra nodded. “In the washroom—I thought I heard the two of you talking?”

Malcolm thought back to the interaction and lifted his shoulders. It was an easy decision not to share. “Just setting some boundaries.”

She studied him for a moment before choosing to accept the answer without further question. Sa’ra looked skyward at the heavy cloud cover that blocked the sun. “I bet the sunset looks amazing from up here.”

“We could come back this evening?” Malcolm suggested.

Sa’ra smiled. “Let’s.” She agreed.


Malcolm pulled on a fresh pair of socks once they returned to the cottage. He went to the kitchen and rinsed out the cup of cold tea he had failed to finish. Sa’ra folded some clothes she had collected from the line and settled down for the afternoon with a book. As Malcolm worked to prepare a meal, she looked up every so often to watch him.

“Do you think you will live here now that you’re back in Renmere?”

“I will throughout the year until the end of Harvest,” he replied, while he continued with the task at hand. “I intend to spend Frost in Mayce.”

Sa’ra pulled a blanket about her shoulders, cold all of a sudden. Malcolm turned from the bench to look back at her. She smiled, a closed book rested on her lap. He went back to the chore of dicing vegetables and washed his hands before he joined her in the living room.

“Do you think you will remarry?”

The question caught him off guard. “I haven’t considered it,” he admitted.

“No?”

Malcolm shook his head. “It all feels a bit too messy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Son in law to a king, the boys—”

“—Princes,” Sa’ra said.

Malcolm nodded. “It’s just messy.”

Confusion split the woman’s brow with a soft line. “Oh Malcolm, you’re far too young to rule out a future for yourself.”

“Maybe,” he said.

Sa’ra stretched out to nudge his knee with the pad of her foot. “Vanessa wouldn’t like the thought of it. That much I know.”

The knight lowered his gaze. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about. “You knew her longer than I did,” Malcolm said, “perhaps you’re right.”

“I know she would have liked more time with you. She often said that—that she didn’t see enough of you.”

Malcolm leaned back in his chair, snug against the sheepskin that hung across its back. “I’m not sure it was me she pined for.”

Sa’ra bit her lower lip.

Malcolm raked his fingers through his hair. “Nevermind.”

“I mind,” she said. The book was pushed aside as Sa’ra moved to the floor and sat at the knight’s feet. She closed one of his hands between her own and looked up at him. “She loved you.”

He cast a look at the empty fireplace, then down at his hand as Sa’ra thread her fingers between his. “Then why…” He paused, this was not something he wanted to discuss.

“Why what?” Sa’ra asked.

“She was promised to Morgan—she loved him. Why did she choose me?”

“A bastard of Gwayne or famed knight? I know which man I would pick,” Sa’ra said.

Malcolm frowned. “His mother was the daughter of a Sultan. Bastard or not, Morgan was still the better catch.”

“Then it was love, Malcolm—which you seem to question?”

Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, even after all this time.”

“Morgan wasn’t good for her.”

Malcolm scoffed.

“The truth of it is… I asked her to leave you alone… She changed after she was bestowed the title of Princess.”

A knot formed at the centre of his brow. “Leave me alone?”

Sa’ra released his hand and got to her feet. She paced as she spoke, slow and thoughtful. “I was concerned from the very moment you met that she was chasing you to get back at Morgan.”

Malcolm rubbed his brow and slicked his hair back again. It explained the attack, he thought, but didn’t dare breathe a word of it. “There was more to it than that?” He asked, though it sounded like an accusation.

Sa’ra stood by the window in silence.

Malcolm got to his feet and crossed the room to join her. “Was there more to it?” His tone was gentle.

Sa’ra closed her eyes. She sighed.

“Sa’ra?”

The Ecrede woman turned and looked up into the knight’s eyes. “She knew I…” Sa’ra shook her head. “What’s done is done,” she said, and looked the man square in the eye.

“You have always been very in tune when it comes to my mood,” he acknowledged, “so why do I feel like you’re keeping something from me?”

Sa’ra looked a little taken aback at that. “I—do you remember the first time you introduced me to Jared?”

Malcolm looked confused but nodded. “I do.”

“Did Vanessa make the suggestion?”

“For me to introduce you?” Malcolm asked.

It was Sa’ra’s turn to nod.

Malcolm thought back as he opened his mouth to answer. The memory jumped to the forefront of his mind and he pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “Vanessa said you had seen the two of us together—Jared and I, and that you wanted me to introduce you to him.”

Sa’ra made a sound like strangled laughter and turned away. Malcolm stopped her before she could. She threw her arms out in defeat, at war with herself. “I knew it,” she said.

“Knew what?”

“I never asked her to set up a meet and greet with Jared,” Sa’ra explained, “that…” She bit her lower lip again and closed her eyes, head tipped back against the window frame.

“You didn’t want to meet Jared?” Malcolm asked.

“I love Jared,” Sa’ra said, “I would never undo that.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Malcolm I…” She sighed and put her fingers through her hair, as if she wanted to tear it out.

“Come here,” he encouraged, “sit down, please?”

Sa’ra paced as the man took up his seat once more near the fireplace. She pinched the top of her nose and scrunched her eyes shut. “What a mess,” she said.

“Sit!” He demanded. “Please,” his voice softened, “talk to me?”

Sa’ra sat, fingers wrapped about the narrow wooden arms of the chair. “In my culture, we have this ability to form deep connections—emotional attachments far more powerful than any magic could grant.”

“I’ve read about the Ecrede,” he said.

“I know—we’ve spoken about it before—but Malcolm… I never told you that I’ve been unable to form a bond with anyone my whole life, until—”

He leaned forward.

“—Until I met you.”

Malcolm’s brow twitched, interest piqued. “Me?”

She nodded. “It’s not a normal connection either, at least, not like any I’ve ever heard of… Not like my mother explained the bond with my father.”

“How so?”

“You were a complete stranger to me the first time we met and yet, I knew you,” she said. “I felt like I had stepped into a dream. Your aura,” Sa’ra explained, “was magnetic… I thought you were my destiny—no, I was certain of it. Something had nagged at me all my life, right there in the back of my mind—telling me to go to Renmere, to cast aside all I knew and start again.” She covered her face and groaned, the sound followed by a chuckle. “I must sound so mad.”

“Crazy.” Malcolm teased, as if he agreed.

Sa’ra leaned forward and gave his arm a playful smack.

“You told her you liked me?” Malcolm asked.

Sa’ra leaned back. “Like I said… I wouldn’t change anything now.”

“The poets say everything happens for a reason.” He smiled.

She smiled back.


After their evening meal, they returned to the top of the hill to watch the sun go down, a little more prepared than they had been during the day. Malcolm put a blanket down and poured them a cup of wine each. He sat down on the knitted blanket and looked west. The sky was a dusty pink colour, mingled with shades of purple, blue and orange. Sa’ra stepped onto the blanket after abandoning her slippers at one edge. She cuddled up under the fur she had carried up the hill and accepted the small cup of red wine.

“No glasses?” She said.

“You’re not in Warrick now, Lady Ashan,” Malcolm teased.

She giggled. “You’re happy.” Sa’ra smiled, “I can feel it in my bones—like a weight lifted.”

“I’m at peace with the past,” he admitted. “I think I was holding onto a lot of resentment.”

She leaned against the man, head pressed to his shoulder, arm looped through his own. Sa’ra said nothing, content simply to be present in the moment. He tried to think about anything other than the warmth of her touch and the smell of her long golden hair, like lavender on a warm summer’s day. Sa’ra drew her fingers over the soft brown hair on his forearm and said, “it’s rose water…”

Malcolm blinked and straightened where he sat. Sa’ra looked up at him, flushed with embarrassment. “Did I sa—”

“—No,” she assured him. “I’m sorry… I don’t think that’s ever happened before?”

“You can read my—”

“—No, oh Seven, no. It doesn’t work like that, only…” Sa’ra covered her face. “Oh Lochren… give me strength,” she whispered.

Malcolm stared at the woman. Look at me, he thought.

Sa’ra set her cup of wine aside and lifted her gaze to meet Malcolm’s. Kiss me?

And he did.


XV Frost XIX

After a long night of dances, discussions and declarations, Malcolm was exhausted. He had gone to his room to wash up and dress for bed, when there had been a knock at the door. It was Jared and Sa’ra who met him with a bottle of wine in hand. He offered a tired smile and invited them in. Malcolm finished with his clean up before he moved to join the pair in his room. Sa’ra rested on the bed in a cream coloured underdress and Jared sat in a chair by the fire. Malcolm went to his friend and bowed to kiss him while Sa’ra opened the bottle of red wine.

“You look tired,” Jared said.

“It’s been a long night,” Malcolm admitted, before he fed an extra log to the fire.

“And we have a meeting in the morning with Ted,” Jared reminded him. The baron sat in robes of red and gold, gilded in embroidery so fine and elaborate, it looked like someone’s life work.

“Malcolm,” Sa’ra called, summoning the man to bed.

Malcolm tussled Jared’s hair and the pair shared an amused look before the knight made his retreat. He accepted the bottle of wine and drank straight from it before that too was set aside. Kiss me, Sa’ra said with a look, and the Wolf stooped to press his temple to that of his mate. She lifted her chin to brush the tip of her nose to his in an affectionate caress before their lips met. “I’ve missed you,” the woman admitted.

She turned on the bed and sat back on folded legs as she swept her golden hair aside and presented the man with a puzzle of silk wrapped buttons. He undid them with the utmost care and pressed a kiss to each newly revealed square inch of skin. Slow, Sa’ra pressed the thought into his mind and he smiled. Had she sensed his eagerness? It had been a long year without them.

“I always take my time with you,” Malcolm whispered.

“And I love every second,” she mouthed, turning to meet his kiss.

He peeled the sleeves of her dress from her arms and took in the sight of her as it pooled about her hips. Sa’ra moved onto her back and halted the man’s advances with a foot pressed to his bare chest. Malcolm took up the fabric of her dress and ushered it over her hips to strip away from her long, slender legs and send it to the floor. Bare, she spread her legs for him and met his gaze with burning yellow eyes—the colour of her desire.

Malcolm went to his knees on the floor and took her hips to pull her against his hungry maw. Her moan was answered with a soft, “mm,” from her husband, who appeared to enjoy the show. Sa’ra glanced across at the baron and bit her lower lip as she watched him amuse himself, a voyeur of love.

Slick and needy, the woman moved over the furs to escape the hot mouth of her lover and reached out for the wine. She took another swig and saw him do the same before her hands went to the top of his trousers. Sa’ra stared, transfixed by the manner in which the fabric hung from his hips under tension. He freed his member and cast his pants to the floor alongside her dress. Sa’ra seemed to shrink in his shadow, made weak by desire. He knew exactly what she liked and moved into position before he bent to kiss her.


Sated, Sa’ra rolled onto her side to catch her breath. She reached for the wine to wet dry lips, but found she had no desire to sit or even bring the bottle to her mouth. Instead she lay there on the furs, basking in the afterglow of their love-making. A coy smile pulled at her mouth as she noticed Malcolm grin at her, caught it seemed, mid-daydream.

“Long hair suits you,” she said.

“It needs a cut,” he admitted.

Sa’ra shook her head. “You’re a beautiful man,” she told him, “any woman would be lucky to have you—I am lucky to have you…”

Malcolm frowned at that.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing—it’s nothing,” he assured her. But Sa’ra knew there was something, could sense it through their bond.

“Speak to me,” she said.

“It’s the Burhan girl—woman—Reyes,” he said.

Jared stood up and closed his robes before he moved to join them on the bed, getting in beside his wife, Sa’ra. “Her mother asked to form a match between Elyna and Marcus,” the baron explained.

“It’s not that…” Malcolm said.

Both of them looked at him with mild surprise.

“I asked Elyna to marry me tonight.”

Sa’ra choked on a mouth of wine she had just taken and Jared blinked, completely blindsided by the news. “Marry?” He said.

Malcolm nodded.

“Whatever for?”

The Wolf sighed. “I’m afraid if Caelin goes directly to the king with her proposal, he will accept the match for Marcus.”

Jared sat up against the pillows. “Shit,” he said, “of course he will.”

“Then Elyna did not accept your proposal?” Sa’ra surmised.

“No,” Malcolm said.

“Burhan are known for their greed,” Jared said, “but I’m surprised even Caelin would decline the match of a duke for her daughter.”

“I didn’t ask Caelin,” Malcolm admitted.

“Seven,” Jared said, “you do invent some problems for yourself.”

Malcolm laughed.

Jared smirked.

Sa’ra was quiet.

“Do you want to marry her?” Jared asked, after a brief spell of silence.

Sa’ra fixed her gaze on Malcolm once more. He sat up on the bed and pulled a fur across his lap, thoughtful for a time. “I don’t know,” he said. “She’s young and impulsive. I think she’s beautiful, but is that enough?”

“Sometimes love comes later,” Sa’ra said, as she reached out to stroke the man’s arm.

He closed her hand in his and brought it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles. Malcolm offered an easy smile. Sa’ra leaned in to rest her head against his chest, fingers freed once more, she combed them through the sparse black hair below his neckline.

“I think it’s a wise idea,” Jared said. “Two birds, one stone.”

Malcolm looked across at him. “She’s not right for my son,” he said.

“Then what makes her right for you?” Sa’ra asked.

“Shared common ground,” Malcolm told her.

“Sometimes having too much in common works against couples,” she replied.

“Mm,” Jared hummed, “but it wouldn’t hurt to direct Burhan’s attention elsewhere. If Elyna and Malcolm were married, it would secure power in the midlands and south.”

“Peace,” Malcolm corrected him.

“Peace,” Jared echoed.

Sa’ra said nothing.

“And what of Marcus?” Jared asked.

“Atler wants a match with Nejem, but he hasn’t ruled out looking closer to home,” Malcolm said.

“Aramane is still off the cards?” The Lion asked.

“Atler refuses to negotiate with Aramane,” Malcolm said. “He’s afraid of progress if you ask me.”

“And what does Marcus want?”

“He’s eleven,” Sa’ra interjected, “he wants what every boy wants.”

Jared looked at her, confused.

“The love, trust and faith of his own family, to make his own decisions,” she said.

Malcolm smiled. “He likes a girl from Aramane, but would never work against his grandfather’s wishes.”

“I say you pursue the Burhan girl,” Jared said.

“She’s already given her denial,” Malcolm challenged.

“Then show her why she should reconsider,” Jared countered.

“I don’t know,” Malcolm mouthed. “Would it hurt for me to wait? To stumble into love?”

“It’s been years,” Jared said. “You know as well as I do that noblemen seldom get to choose who they marry.”

“I would disagree,” Sa’ra said.

Jared bowed to kiss her shoulder. “I was lucky in love,” he told her, “but Malcolm has been unattached for some time now.”

“Perhaps he is content with his lot.” Sa’ra whispered.

Malcolm stroked her arm. “I am happy,” he agreed, “the two of you make me very happy—but Jared has a point—if I can serve this realm with a match, would it not be selfish of me to sit on my hands and let the opportunity pass?”

Sa’ra reached back to rub her husband’s leg, as if to say in silence that she agreed with him. “He does,” she said, “of course you’re right. You should insist she reconsiders your offer.”

Jared squeezed her hand, pleased. She turned to him and sat up to peck him on the mouth. “I should go and check on the girls,” Sa’ra murmured.

“I will,” Jared offered.

Sa’ra smiled and nodded her thanks.


When the door clicked closed behind the baron, the Ecrede woman sprang out of bed and tiptoed over to peek out into the hall. She watched as he climbed the stairs, and pushed the door shut before returning to bed. Sa’ra took the furs in hand and pulled them back to see her lover bare once more. “Did you drink the wine?” She asked, as she moved to straddle him.

“No,” he whispered, roused by the familiar ease in which she worked. “I spat it out on the furs.”

“Good,” Sa’ra mouthed, her lips half an inch from his. “I want you… I’m ready.”

He took her hips and rolled the woman onto her back, his mouth hot on her’s. “Fill me, my love,” she whispered, “I ache for you.”

The Wolf abided her instruction, far less tame than he had been, the first round.


Jared returned half an hour later to find the pair dressed and dozing beneath the covers. He climbed onto the bed and kissed his wife’s cheek, careful not to wake her, then settled in to sleep. Beneath the covers, Sa’ra laced her fingers with that of the Wolf’s, keenly aware of the slumbering Lion at her back. Please don’t marry her, she begged in silence. He squeezed her hand in turn.