The King had summoned Maximus more times than he could recall since his return from battle. The usual fare: strategies to assail the enemy kingdom of Malicot. But Maximus couldn't be bothered with the man's antics. It was always the same—those who hid behind their borders were the first to throw stones.
Today, he sat in the strategy room with the King, the man's finger tracing attack routes on a map of Malicot. Maximus feigned interest, his mind elsewhere. He rubbed his chest, remembering the ache that had settled there when Edgar returned with the news: no red-haired woman. She had vanished without a trace. He blamed himself, perhaps if he'd responded to her letter sooner, she would have waited for him.
A sigh escaped him as he gazed out the window. New recruits clashed outside, their first trial underway. He wouldn't be there to witness it, leaving the task to his second and third commanders. He should be out there, or with her. Where was she? He'd failed her, hadn't he? She'd run, and he'd been searching for her ever since the parade, months ago. Maybe, if he cast his net wider, he could find her and beg her forgiveness.
"Wherever you are, red, I promise I'll find you."
"-On that?" The King's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Maximus turned back, meeting the expectant gaze.
The King leaned back, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "This is exactly what I mean. You should take the plunge. Send another letter to Lady Anna, explain the mix-up, and I'm sure she'll accept you."
Maximus rose and walked to the window. He'd heard this speech countless times. Anna Ferring, the perfect match, the political alliance.
"Think of the influence her family could bring to the kingdom," the King pressed.
"My decision is no," Maximus replied, his gaze drawn to a small man facing a much larger opponent. A strange feeling stirred within him. "They should have matched them by size. They're going to get that boy killed."
Maximus turned away from the window, his mind wandering back to his woman.