“No, Mr. Hollis. I’m all right. Just overwhelmed by all that’s transpired.” She returned her attention to the doctor. “So, still unconscious?”
“Yes, but we’re able to get fluids into him so he doesn’t dehydrate,” the doctor assured her. “We’re monitoring him closely for swelling or brain bleed. It’s always a guessing game with head injuries. The good news is that his extremities respond to stimuli, so no spinal injuries. He’s in line for more tests. Is Sergeant Sutter a friend or relative of yours?”
Cassandra let out a long breath, fully aware of her current surroundings. Being well read, she recognized the PTSD symptoms—the flashback and subsequent panic attack. She met the doctor’s eyes.
“He saved my life.”
Chapter forty-two
Summons and Solace
Verdancia, early that same morning
Lark nestled behind Azaleen in the luxurious bed, cool pastel sheets smooth against her skin, and marveled at the woman in her arms as she waited for sunrise. The overnight rain had cooled the air, making the closeness all the more comforting as Azaleen’s warmth seeped into her, steady and sure as the morning tide. She inhaled deeply, tightening her arm around her. Jasmine and rosewater filled her senses, drawing a soft smile to her lips.
She wanted those lips on Azaleen’s skin again, devouring and savoring, but she wouldn’t wake her. The queen had confided that rest hadn’t come easy in Lark’s absence. Holding Azaleen, loving her, giving and taking in equal measure, made Lark feel alive in ways she’d never known. But the truest joy lay in what was growing between them—quiet vulnerability, unguarded honesty.
Lark and the team had returned to the capital yesterday with a damaged, nonfunctioning robot and several laser rifles for the scientists to examine. Luke gave the report on all that transpired and the ceasefire the generals had agreed upon. Even with the added extra time, it would end this morning. Lark could only presume the Republic’s assault on Stonevale would resume. Could General Calder hold? How long before the Iron Army would reach Nelanta?
Azaleen had outlined various plans should that eventuality occur, depending on whether their enemies launched a one- or two-pronged attack, and if there was a sufficient Verdancian force left to defend the capital. General Stark and the queen had poured many hours into the task. Azaleen deserved a night of renewal.
In the first light of dawn peeking through the window, Lark gazed down at Azaleen’s face. Her breathing remained slow and steady as she slept, the quiet strength of it grounding everything around her. She was so beautiful, so dynamic, that she reminded Lark of nature itself.And she wants me.The thought still amazed her.
A knock sounded. Lark jerked, pulling her arm back, alarmed by the risk of being caught in a compromising position. Azaleen grabbed her hand in a firm, unyielding grip and tugged it back around her waist. Lark tensed, but, at Azaleen’s insistence, remained tucked in bed behind her.
“Who’s there and what do you want?” Azaleen’s words slurred with sleep as her eyes blinked open.
“I’m sorry to wake you so early,” Sabine Fontaine’s voice came in a loud whisper.
Azaleen’s chief of staff and best friend. She knows about us.Lark relaxed slightly.
“A pigeon arrived with a message marked urgent,” Sabine said, adding, “from President Luther Irons.”
Azaleen groaned and rolled onto her back. Lark shifted to give her space. “I’m coming. Inform General Stark and Ambassador Navarro. We’ll meet in my office.”
“Right away. It could be good news.” Sabine tried to sound optimistic. Azaleen slapped a hand over her eyes.
“Yeah, right.”
Sabine’s footsteps hurried away. Azaleen’s hand slid down, her impossibly blue eyes peering at Lark with apprehension. “Does he want to gloat? Is he calling for my surrender already?”
“Maybe he’s offering a deal of some kind,” Lark speculated in the spirit of hopefulness.
“If so, it’s one he’ll benefit from at our expense,” Azaleen said. She sat up, the sheet sliding down to reveal the beautiful breasts of a woman who had borne children and remained no less breathtaking.
“I’ll bet it’s about the intrusion of Appalachia’s mechanical army,” Lark said.
Azaleen rose, reaching for her clothes. “Could be.”
“What canIdo?” Lark asked, her eyes lingering on Azaleen, drawn to the strength in every movement, effortless and assured.
“See the boys off to school, will you?” She slipped her arms into bra straps and glanced at Lark. “Then wait for me downstairs in the Capitol. There’s no telling what fresh hell this day will bring.”
Lark crossed to her, confident in her nudity. She didn’t even cringe when Azaleen gazed at her breast or stroked the nearly healed scar. “Let me get that for you.”
Azaleen turned and lifted her hair. Lark fastened the bra, finishing off with a gentle kiss to Azaleen’s nape. “No worries, my dear. I’ve got it covered.”
Azaleen whirled around, draping her arms over Lark’s shoulders. After a languid kiss, the queen eased back. “Peach, blue, or green today?”