My enemy my lover my king

Chapter ten

The plan was a suicide mission: a small strike team to infiltrate the mountain fortress of Crow’s Nest and burn the enemy’s winter stores. If they failed, the allied army would starve before the first thaw.

Julian, desperate to reclaim his honor after the humiliation in the tent, had insisted on leading the infiltration. "My men are trained in the silent arts, Seraphina. Unlike your... husband, I do not need to roar and break things to achieve victory."

Magnus had merely sharpened his axe, his eyes cold. "I’m going. Not to help you, Julian, but to make sure my wife doesn't have to carry your corpse back to your mother."

Now, they were perched on a narrow stone ledge, five hundred feet above a jagged gorge. The wind howled, threatening to rip them from the rock face. Seraphina led the way, her movements fluid and silent, but her mind was fractured. Behind her, Magnus and Julian traded glares that were sharper than the daggers at their belts.

"Watch your footing, 'Barbarian'," Julian hissed as Magnus kicked a loose pebble. "Some of us prefer to remain undetected."

"And some of us prefer to fight men to their faces," Magnus grunted.

They reached the supply cache—a massive wooden structure guarded by a dozen sentries. The plan went sideways in an instant. A hidden scout blew a horn, and suddenly, the courtyard was swarming with Iron-Hold steel.

"To the gates!" Seraphina screamed, her arrows flying in a deadly blur.

In the chaos, the rivalry became a deadly game of one-upmanship. Julian fought with a rapier, a dance of silver and grace, while Magnus was a mountain of iron, his axe cleaving through shields and bone alike.

Then came the explosion.

A stray torch hit a barrel of black powder. The ground heaved. The stone bridge connecting the cache to the mountain pass shattered.

"Seraphina!" Magnus roared, throwing himself toward her as the ledge crumbled.

He caught her, swinging her onto solid ground, but the impact sent him reeling back toward the precipice. At the same moment, a massive wooden beam from the burning roof fell, pinning Julian to the floor just feet away from the spreading fire.

Seraphina stood in the center of the nightmare. To her left, Magnus was hanging by one hand over the abyss, his fingers slipping on the ice-slicked stone. To her right, Julian was being engulfed by smoke, his leg crushed under the beam, his eyes wide with terror as he reached out to her.

"Seraphina, help me!" Julian choked out.

"Sera... let me go... save the bridge!" Magnus gasped from the ledge, his face strained, his muscles bulging as he tried to find purchase. He wasn't asking for help; he was willing to sacrifice himself so she could finish the mission.

The choice was impossible. Julian represented her past, her safety, and the peace she had always known. Magnus was the man who had seen her at her worst, who had bled for her, and who had awakened a fire in her soul she couldn't extinguish.

She didn't hesitate.

She lunged toward the ledge. She grabbed Magnus’s forearm, her boots sliding toward the edge as his weight nearly pulled her over.

"Don't you dare let go!" she screamed, her face inches from his. "You told me we were stuck with each other, Magnus! I’m not letting you out of this marriage that easily!"

With a roar of effort, she used every ounce of her strength to haul him up. Magnus rolled onto the stone, gasping for air, and immediately pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the heat of the fire.

Behind them, Julian managed to pull his leg free, crawling toward them, coughing and scorched. He looked at the two of them—locked together, Seraphina’s hands buried in Magnus’s tunic—and he saw the truth. It wasn't the wine. It wasn't the treaty.

"You chose him," Julian whispered, his voice broken as the flames licked the air around them.

Seraphina looked at the noble she had once thought she loved, then up at the rugged, blood-stained King holding her. "I chose my husband, Julian. Now get up. We have a fortress to burn."

As they fought their way out of the inferno, Magnus kept one hand firmly on the small of her back. The jealousy was gone, replaced by a dark, possessive triumph. He knew now. She hadn't just saved his life; she had claimed him.