When his thudding steps, clad in heavy leather sandals, would not pause but continued onward toward his fate…his inevitable doom, she called out to him once more.
“Please,” she whispered on the heels of a raspy breath that made her lungs ache.
He stopped, but refused to turn toward her. It pained her to part with him under such terrible conditions. No husband and wife should ever separate on the wake of a turbulent disagreement. All she sought was to save his life. To keep him living…breathing…walking…existing upon this earth with her, if only for one more day. Had she been able to convince him to forestall the start of his campaign for one more night of blistering love making, one more day of heated kisses…perhaps she would be able to erase the notion of marching into certain death from his mind completely. She nearly laughed. Her mighty champion would never abandon his honor or forsake his duties…not even for her…not even for their unborn child, still nestling in its mother’s warm womb. The man Phaedra had chosen to wed, had given her heart and even her soul to, would give every drop of his warrior’s blood, even his very life, if it would save his people from slavery and annihilation.