Page 1 of Our Lady of War

Chapter

One

Year of Our Goddess Three, 945

IGOR

“Darling?”

Igor glanced over his shoulder at his wife, the briefest of smiles tilting his lips. Even amidst the turmoil, she could still draw joy from him.

Athania sat up in bed, blinking against the lamplight shining in slanted golden rays across the room from his desk. “Darling, why are you still awake?”

“Go back to sleep, mi amor.” He turned back to the mess of maps and parchment strewn in front of him.

Athania cleared her throat daintily, and Igor sighed, not nearly as perturbed with her as he was feigning to be. His chair groaned as he twisted to fully look at her, and he immediately regretted it. She’d let her delicate nightgown fall to reveal almost the entirety of one breast—just enough to cause him to long for the rest of her. After the initial surge the sight sent through him, a sadness crept into his bones.

They’d wed only a fortnight before Orford was thrust into war yet again, and war had been their life the three years since. His bride had never blushed a day in her life, nor did she shy away from the battlefield, yet it still made him nervous to have her so close to bloodshed and mayhem. Though, it never seemed to give her even the slightest inkling of anxiety. He had to admit that it made him fight harder, having her at camp in their tent, waiting for him to return. She would bathe the blood from him and fill him with enough courage to go back out into the fray before the next sunrise.

“Igor,” she purred.

“You’re a siren, is what you are,” he muttered as he rose to go to her, battle plans left behind.

Athania only smiled prettily at him, her dark hair falling in waves over one shoulder as she lifted the blanket for him to slip into the bed beside her. “You’re the siren, darling.”

Igor kissed the pale column of her neck, her head tilting back to give him free rein. “Mm,” he murmured against her skin, “because you gave up so much to be with me, sí?” He paused and pulled back long enough to look at her, a rakish grin on his face. Her blue eyes flickered, and her attention roved from that smile up to meet his gaze.

“Precisely.” She put one hand to his chest and pushed, moving atop him, her hips straddling his. “I gave up everything.”

They never spoke of Athania’s past. Igor only knew that she hailed from a family far from Orford.

“Do you remember the day we met?” She ran a finger down his bare chest.

Igor slid his palms up her thighs, dragging her nightgown up with the motion until his hands rested hot on her hips. “Of course, mi amor. How could I ever forget? You were soaked from head to toe standing in that fountain.”

Athania bent to place three gentle kisses on his collarbone, and Igor ran his fingers up and down her back lazily. “Is that why you came to see if I needed help? Because my dress was clinging to me?” She smiled mischievously, her face hovering over his, and Igor laughed.

“That certainly didn’t deter me, but—” He kissed her tenderly. “I thought you fell in the fountain. What sort of woman climbs into one of her own accord?”

“One who is very bored and curious as to why anyone would throw coins into a fountain.”

“Luck, mi amor. Wishes.”

She bent to press her lips against his. “Blasphemers,” she whispered with a grin against his mouth. “Luck is only for the rich or foolish.”

“So you say.” Igor pulled down both straps of her nightgown until her torso was bared to him. “Remind me why that is again?”

She peered down at him beneath the curtain of her hair, smug, and rolled her hips against him once. He groaned, and she beamed. “Luck is the praise of the rich, so they can pretend they followed the rules. Luck is the excuse of the foolish, so they can pretend they actually tried.”

Igor took a fist full of her hair and gently pulled until her lips were near his again. “The fairest, wisest of them all.” He could drown in those blue eyes. “And what do we wish for besides luck, then, mi amor?”

Athania’s head tilted to one side. “This, darling.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “To love and be loved. There is nothing else.” She kissed him hard but pulled back abruptly. “And it has nothing to do with luck or wishes.”

“Fate, then?” he teased.

“No, no, no. It is a choice and a continual fight for the life you want.”

“And I would fight to the ends of the realm for you, mi amor.”