The Bloodforged by Erin Lindsey Page B

“Our system is simpler than most, that’s all,” she said.
    â€œOur system makes sense.” He held up a finger. “One king. One decider. He consults, sure, but at the end of the day, the decisions are his. Having three leaders is a recipe for disaster. What happens when the Trions disagree? And then there’s these Onnani blokes!” He rapped the scroll with the back of his hand. “
Dozens
of them, Allie. How do they decide anything?”
    â€œWell, they vote.”
    He went on as though he hadn’t heard. “And this business about secret societies—what does that even mean?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” she admitted. “I guess what’s important is that you can’t assume you know where an Onnani politician stands just because of his league affiliation.”
    â€œThen how am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to figure out
any
of this?” The helplessness in his grey eyes pierced Alix’s heart.
    She took his hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You will, love. I know you will.”
    â€œThat makes one of us.”
    Alix dropped into his lap and curled her arms around his neck. “You really have to stop talking like that. You’re wilier than you give yourself credit for.” She nuzzled his shoulder. “You don’t really think I’d have married a fool, do you?”
    It was her secret weapon. Liam simply couldn’t resist. The playfulness returned to his eyes, and he gave her an arch look. “You might have, if you wanted him to be a slave to your will.”
    She laughed. “Now why would I want that?”
    â€œI can think of several reasons.”
    â€œHmm.” She gazed at him teasingly, brushing her thumb along his lip. “I’m starting to think of a few myself.”
    He needed no further encouragement, reaching up and twining his fingers in her hair. He sighed as his lips met hers, and she felt his shoulders relax. He kissed her slowly, lingeringly, letting the tension drain from his body, and soon he was lowering her back against the cushions, thoughts of Onnanipolitics long forgotten. Alix let herself sink into the moment, wrapping her limbs around him, wishing she need never let go. But even as her body awoke to his, something else was settling inside her, grey and quietly mournful, like a thin blanket of ash. Tonight would be their last together. After that . . .
    After that, there was no telling.
    *   *   *
    Alix tightened the cinch on her saddle, yanking the leather with more force than was strictly necessary. The gelding grunted and shifted a little in protest. She slipped the strap end through the buckle and patted his neck in apology.
Not his fault you’re in a mood
, said a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Gwylim’s.
    Gwylim.
How she wished he were here now. Aside from the fact that they could have used his scouting skills—not to mention his healing skills, or the myriad of other useful tricks he knew—Alix had always found his presence comforting. Gwylim never let himself get rattled by anything. He’d seemed to absorb the emotions of those around him the way a cloth mops up a spill. He was the man everyone went to for advice, all of it delivered with kindness and empathy.
The world lost something special when it lost Gwylim.
Something that could not be replaced.
    Certainly not by Kerta Middlemarch.
    â€œOh, Alix, this must be so awful for you,” Kerta said, fussing with her own horse. “Taking the king into danger. Being separated from Liam.” She shook her pretty blond head mournfully.
    â€œYes, it is,” Alix said, doing her best not to growl. Kerta was a friend, and she meant well, but at times like these, Alix resented her syrupy brand of sympathy. It was hard enough dealing with this situation without someone narrating her misery.
    Kerta reached over and gripped her arm. “We’ll protect