Where Ashes and Oaths Collide

Chapter 43: Prepare for Battle

“Good. Next time you say something stupid I am going to slap you,” Amelia warns. A low chuckle escaped Luz’s chest, the sound rich and genuine. The threat of physical violence from Amelia’s hands felt strangely comforting– a tangible sign of the normalcy he had lost. “Promises, promises,” he teased, his amber eyes sparkling with amusement. “I have faced down whole battalions without flinching, but I have a feeling getting slapped by you would be far more terrifying.” His arms wrapped securely around her waist again, pulling her flush against his bare chest. The physical contact seemed to ground him further in this moment of fragile peace. “Consider it a deal,” he murmured against her hair. “Stupid remarks earn slaps. Fair warning delivered.”

“We should probably eat,” Amelia said and looked over at the cooked chicken on the table. “The chicken is probably cold by now.” Luz’s gaze followed hers to the small table where their interrupted meal sat waiting. The chicken indeed looked less than appetizing now, its steam long since dissipated into the cool evening air of the tent. A wry smile touched his lips as he released her completely, he had been distracted by their conversation– and by her. “Cold chicken and stolen moments,” he said with a soft laugh, the sound unexpectedly light-hearted. “This is officially the worst tactical decision I have made all week.” Despite his words, his tone was fond rather than regretful. He reluctantly released her from his embrace and stood, retrieving his discarded trousers from the floor.

“I suppose we should maintain our strength if we are planning mutiny against Mestre Escuro’s force,” Luz remarked as he dressed quickly. “Though I suspect eating cold meat is hardly strategic preparation.” Amelia draped the blanket over her shoulders and stood up to walk to the table. “First we got to get through the siege on Cidade dos escravos,” Amelia said and took a bite of chicken. Her movements drew Luz’s full attention, his amber eyes tracking her every action with an intensity that bordered on possessive. The way the blanket draped over her shoulders did little to hide the curves he had just explored so intimately moments before.

“Cidade dos escravos,” he echoes, his voice dropping back into commanding mode as he buttoned his own trousers. “Right. Because facing an army of Cidade dos escravos’s guards is always more pressing than figuring out how many years we have left.” he moved to sit opposite her at the small wooden table and starts putting on his black armour. Amelia quickly finishes her half of the chicken. “It is not so bad,” she said as she chews the last bite. “At least you will be killing slavers.” Luz watched he finish her half of the chicken, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Her practical approach to their dire situation was both endearing and familiar– she had always been able to find silver lining even in the worst circumstance.

“Slavers,” he repeated thoughtfully, as he stands to continue putting on his armour. “Yes, killing those bastards is certainly a motivating factor.” His amber eyes took on a sharper focus as he considered their impending mission. The casual domesticity of sharing a meal with her contrasted sharply with the knowledge that tomorrow he would lead his army against his own people. “By now we will have information on the locations of the tunnels,” he said as he moved to the table to eat himself. “And you will stay in the tower.” Amelia moves to the bed where her midnight robe lays on the floor. “Yes, yes. I will stay in the tower. As promised,” she said casually as she starts getting dressed.

Luz’s amber eyes tracked her movements as she slipped into the midnight-coloured robe, the fabric sliding over her form with familiar grace. The simple act of dressing felt like a prelude to their inevitable separation during today’s siege. “Good,” he said, his voice regaining some of its military finality. “Your position in the watchtower gives you clear sightlines on both entrances. If anything goes wrong with out infiltration plan–” he finished his own meal quickly, standing to retrieve his black gauntlets from where they lay near the tent entrance. The demonic energy hummed faintly as he slid them into his hands, the metal conforming to his warrior’s frame. “Promise me you will not hesitate to flee if things get heated up there,” he added firmly, walking toward her side of the tent.

“I told you I would flee,” Amelia said fully dressed now. “But if everything goes according to plan– if you make it back to me– I will reward you properly.” She kissed him on the cheek. The kiss, light and warm against his cold cheek, sent a jolt through Luz’s entire body. His amber eyes widened for a moment, the amber flickering through them like sunlight through a stork cloud. A genuine, unguarded smile touched his lips– a smile that reached his amber eyes and made him look years younger. “Is that a promise or a threat?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he caught her wrist before she could step away. “Because if I know there is a reward waiting for me back here, I might just have to survive this entire mess.”

His thumb stroked over the pulse point on her wrist, feeling the steady beat of her life against his own skin. “Come back in one piece and I will deliver,” Amelia said playfully. “It will be worth your while, commander.” Luz’s expression shifted from playful warning to outright hunger at her confident tone. The title ‘commander’ rolled off her tongue with familiarity, a reminder of who he has to be today. “A commander deserves a proper reward,” he agreed, his voice taking on a darker edge. “I will hold you to that promise.” He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over her ear as he spoke. “When I get back, Amelia, I am going to remind you exactly what it means to belong to me. All of you.” His free hand slid up her wrist to cup the back of her neck possessively.

“But for now,” Luz said reluctantly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze again. “Yeah, yeah. Back to business,” Amelia said. They exited the tent and went to the watchtower, where Mestre Escuro stood ready in his obsidian armour.