So in a few days, it ends. No more dodging. No more war games. Terror and elation battle for supremacy within me. In the end, it’s easier for me to focus on the movement along the ridge. My distance shooting isn’t good enough, but Vel drops one as the centurions push through the mud, through driving rain and wind to fight for nobles who don’t care if they live or die. Their pay cannot possibly be sufficient for the odds they face, and yet they don’t back down. They follow these orders to their deaths. Is that bravery or stupidity?
The enemy hits our mines and explodes in a bright orange ball. Meat that used to be men splatters everywhere. And still they come on. I raise my rifle. Fire. Again.
I am saturated in death, so dirty I may never get clean, and yet I, too, fight on. I take target after target, covering the men ahead of me. I follow orders like the centurions. Because there’s no way out but through—it’s especially true now.
Some famous guy who was about to be executed said this: Give me liberty or give me death. That’s how the La’hengrin feel.
Me, I’ve lost some of my passion but none of my commitment. I’m in this until the end. I will keep my promises.
CHAPTER 55
The camp is hardly worth the name, just a place where we’ve pitched our tents. No fortifications, no precautions, but since we’re marching on the capital, it doesn’t matter. The cells will unite outside Jineba, but until then, the units are small and mobile. Hard to track. It’s worked like a charm so far.
“If I say I might die tomorrow, would that get me some rack time with you?” March has come up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist.
Tomorrow, along with everyone else, we move on Jineba. I should be terrified, or at least worried, but my soul is calm. This feels right. Inevitable. This is where I’m supposed to be. It is a night of perfect synchronicity, where the stars that shine overhead are the ones I’m supposed to see at precisely this moment.
“You don’t have to bargain for it,” I say, facing him. “I’m yours for the taking. Have been for turns. Though so many other things have, that hasn’t changed.”
“Then come on, Jax. Celebrate life with me tonight.”
“Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die?”
“Something like that. I’ll settle for the merry part.” He sweeps me into his arms, ignoring the hoots from our unit. Zeeka calls out a teasing remark, and I salute him over March’s shoulder.
He crouches and crawls into his tent, with me still cradled in his arms, a feat not for the weak or uncoordinated. There isn’t much room, and I’m conscious of how our bodies show as shadow shapes. Then he kisses me, and I don’t care if the whole company watches from start to finish. His mouth has always made me feel like that, and it doesn’t matter that extra lines frame it now, or that more silver peppers his dark hair at the temples. He’s not perfect; he’s hurt me. But neither am I, and I’ve wounded him, too. When all the columns are tallied, emotional profit and loss reckoned, I will always, always love him.
I’m glad to hear that.
More kisses, sweet and soft. On the night before battle, I expect him to be fierce and fast, but instead he loves me with a slow, inexorable sweetness that brings tears to my eyes. Not a centimeter of skin is revealed that he doesn’t caress with gentle hands made rough through turns of work. The rasp against my unexpectedly smooth skin surprises me, every time. I don’t know if I’ll ever be used to it. This moment, this spun-crystal starburst of a moment, feels brand-new, like the first time I touched him, only this time, I appreciate what I hold in my hands.
“If I say you’re beautiful, will you get mad?”
I pull back a little. “Why would I?”
“Because you don’t look like yourself. But I don’t mean that anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“You.” He touches the skin over my heart, the temple where my hair sweeps away from my face. “The Jax part. Not your body. It feels like I’ve loved you forever even when I had no hope of you feeling the same way. Then, later, when I fought despair that I’d ever see you again. I’d wait longer than five turns. I’ll never give up.”
I kiss him, unable to find words for a few seconds. And then I whisper, “That’s my favorite part about you. I can’t decide whether that makes you devoted or crazy.”
“Crazy-devoted?” he offers.
“Mmm. That.”
The talking stops for a while, gives way to hot touches and slow friction. There’s no room for femme dominant when the time comes, but he works extra hard to make it good for me. In the end, he has to kiss me to keep me from screaming. I always thought sex might grow stale, predictable, over long turns with the same person. How could you not get bored? But the truth is, the longer you love the same person, the more mysterious they become. March is like a pocket universe, full of stars, and I will never learn all his light.
Afterward, he holds me, stroking my back with confident hands. He knows how to touch me. Tonight, I won’t consider what’s ahead and how difficult it may become. There’s only the magic of this moment.
“How do you think it will go tomorrow?” I ask.
“Loras is ruthless enough to get the job done. He learned that from Hon.”
“Do you think everything happens for a reason? If I hadn’t abandoned him, he wouldn’t have acquired the steel necessary to free his people.”
March considers, dusting a kiss against my brow. “I’d like to believe Mary has a master plan, but I’m not sure of it. I think we can only do our best, learn from our mistakes, and hope it’s enough.”