Fire Kin

by M. J. Scott

  Ignatius laughed. “Impressive. Perhaps this will be more fun than I thought.”

  “Perhaps it won’t,” a cool female voice said out of nowhere, and suddenly there was a blade at Ignatius’ throat and a gun at his side. And I was looking up at a pair of determined gray eyes in pale skin.

  Lily.

  “Get up, Asharic,” she said.

  I scrambled upward, almost stumbling. The net tightened more.

  The Blood around me stayed frozen in place. Apparently none of them were willing to risk their precious leader to stop me.

  “One of you pull that net off him,” Lily snarled. To my surprise one of them did, tugging it free with too-fast vampire movements. Then he fled into the night. Wise man. I put a few hasty steps between me and the net, trying not to fall over as the pain started to recede. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my sword lying on the cobbles a few feet away. Just out of reach. I wasn’t yet sure enough of my ability to move fast to make a move toward it.

  “Going to kill me, wraith?” Ignatius said, his voice rough with frustration. To his credit he didn’t sound scared.

  “Probably,” Lily said. “It’s about time someone did. I should have done it before I left the warrens.” She pressed the knife a little closer. “You always were a blight on the court, Grey.”

  “If you do, you’ll never know,” he said.

  She had looked perfectly calm until Ignatius spoke. Then she frowned.

  “Know what?” she said.

  “I think you have a fair idea,” he said. “But there are orders, if I die. There are those who will pay the price immediately.”

  Lily’s frown deepened. “You’re bluffing.” Her voice was tight beneath the seemingly calm lilt of her words and her knuckles whitened where they held the dagger.

  I wanted her to kill him, but if she did, then two of us didn’t have much more of a chance of fighting our way out of here against the others than I did alone.

  “Lily,” I said.

  “Asharic, go.” Her voice cracked like a whip. She’d make an excellent soldier, I suspected. I also suspected that, if what I’d heard about her was true, there was no way she’d take up that profession. Not once this war was over anyway.

  “Lily . . . ,” I repeated.

  “I’m perfectly safe.” She jerked her chin toward the direction my men had headed in. “You’re needed.”

  I hesitated, then cursed under my breath. She knew her abilities better than I did and she was a wraith. Ignatius couldn’t hurt her. But if she was forced into the shadow, then there was nothing to stop them coming after me again.

  I nodded at Lily and then turned and ran, snatching my sword up as I went.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ASH

  We beat them back before the dawn, chasing the last of the Beast Kind back across the border.

  Between the Templars and my men, we patrolled the border and started sifting through the damage the Night World forces had done.

  They had attacked the heart of Greenglass, one of the wealthiest of the human boroughs, razing shops and a bank and the chambers of the human council and leaving a trail of burning buildings to mark their path to those targets.

  Making a point, I thought. That they could get deep within our defenses. We still didn’t know how they’d overcome the sunlamps on the border, or what had happened to the squad who’d been patrolling that particular stretch of road. I doubted we’d find them alive.

  They’d been my men, though, and we would search for them until we found the bodies if we could. So I could send word to their families, those that had them.

  I didn’t leave men behind if I could help it, but I had, over the years, accepted the fact that men died in war.

  Still, I held each of the names of those men in my mind, adding to the list of offenses that Ignatius was accumulating.

  I had taken a Beast claw to the leg and sundry other cuts and bruises during the night’s work, and it was only adrenaline that had carried me this far. Its effects were fading now and my injuries and the aftereffects of the iron net made me weak and shaky. After I’d reported in to the Brother House with Rhian and the others, Guy had sent me with the other wounded to St. Giles.

  To Bryony.

  I wanted to see her. If I hadn’t been injured I would have gone anyway. I wanted to see for myself that she was unharmed even though the Templars assured me that St. Giles hadn’t been attacked this time.

  If Salvia had it in for me, then she wouldn’t hesitate to use my vulnerabilities against me. And Bryony had stood with me in court. And I’d called the sword to stay the attack against her. I’d made my feelings plain, even if Bryony hadn’t yet accepted that she had too.

  But in doing so, I’d put her in danger.

  So I needed to see that she had come through the night unscathed.

  What she might say about the fact that I hadn’t done so remained to be seen.

  BRYONY

  It was an hour past dawn before I saw Asharic seated amongst a group of wounded men, his face smeared with smoke and blood, his eyes closed as he rested against a wall. A bandage circled his right thigh, the fabric grimy but the red blood staining it clear enough despite the dirt.

  Hurt.

  I stepped forward before I could stop myself and almost stumbled as the room suddenly whirled around me.

  Across the room I felt Ash’s power flare and I latched onto that, seeking strength as I steadied my breath.

  Graham, one of the orderlies, caught my arm. “Lady Bryony? Are you all right?”

  I nodded grimly. “Yes. I just need to eat something.” I took a shaky breath, the room stable again now, the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach easing a little.

  “Fetch Lady Bryony tea,” Ash ordered. “And whatever food is available. Something sweet.”

  I looked sideways at him. How had he reached my side so quickly? He looked about as shaky as I felt. “You should be sitting down.”

  “So should you,” he said. He shot a look at Graham, who nodded quickly and scurried off. Ash’s arm locked through mine and he guided me to a nearby bench. “You’ve exhausted yourself.”

  I sat because there wasn’t much option not to. After a few seconds, Ash sank down beside me, grimacing as his leg bent. “I think I’m not the only one,” I said. I reached toward the bandage, but his hand caught mine.

  “Just rest a minute,” he said. “My leg isn’t going anywhere. Besides which, there are others worse off than me.” He twisted, looking back at the group of soldiers he’d been sitting with. Several of the healers, Simon directing them, were assessing them with practiced swiftness.

  “They’ll be seen to,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. I’d dealt with Templars long enough to know that I would get little sense out of him until he was happy the men in his charge were being taken care of. And he definitely wouldn’t let me treat him until they were seen to. Not unless he was far more gravely hurt than this.

  I sent a tiny thread of power toward him, trying to see what I could feel of the wound beneath the bandage and to judge whether I agreed with his assessment. The wound felt hot and—

  “Stop that,” he snapped.

  “I—”

  “Do you want to faint here in front of everybody?” he continued. “Rest. No more healing until you’ve eaten something. I’m sure I can’t convince you to sleep, but you need to eat.”

  I straightened. “You don’t get to order me around in my own hospital.”

  “Maybe not. But if you don’t act sensibly, then I’ll be forced to do something more drastic.”

  “Such as?”

  “Maybe I’ll turn you into a frog,” he said with a smile. “That way you’ll stay out of trouble.”

  “You couldn’t turn a toad into a frog, let alone me,” I retorted, but I subsided. I might be safe from him changing me into anything other than a woman foolish enough to fall for him, but he could, given that he had some healing knowledge, do something like put me to sleep
if I pushed him.

  Besides, he was right. I needed food. I was no sunmage to recharge my power with sunlight alone, and the night had been long and busy and I hadn’t slept at all for two nights now.

  I settled back against the bench. Asharic grunted approval, leaned back, and closed his eyes again. From which I gleaned that his leg was hurting him more than he cared to admit.

  “What happened to your face?” I asked. Underneath the grime his left cheek had a crusted-over slash that was too straight to be caused by anything other than a blade.

  “Ignatius Grey,” he said absently.

  “What?” I sat upright again. “Wait. Did you kill him?” That was the more important question than how exactly he had encountered Ignatius.

  “No such luck,” Ash said. He opened his eyes again. “Have you seen Lily?” he asked.

  That was a change of topic I wasn’t expecting. “Lily? What does she have to do with anything?”

  “Well, for one thing, she’s the reason Grey didn’t kill me,” he said.

  I started to rise and his hand curled around my arm with gentle insistence. “Sit.”

  “You can’t just say something like that and then expect me to sit here like nothing happened.” I twitched my arm free of his grip, irritated that he was acting as if an encounter with Ignatius Grey wasn’t noteworthy.

  “Nothing did happen, really,” he said, sounding far too reasonable for a man with bits of him held together with linen bandages and willpower. “But back to my question. Have you seen Lily?”

  “Yes.” I bit back the torrent of questions flooding my brain. “Yes, she was here most of the night, helping.”

  He blew out a breath. “Good. That’s good.”

  “You are going to tell me what happened,” I said.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “But not until you’ve eaten and my men are seen to. It’s daylight now. I don’t think the Beast Kind will try anything more without the Blood to back them up. They have their own wounded to tend to.”

  I didn’t point out to him that the Blood and the Beast Kind weren’t the only ones that he had to worry about. Instead I sat beside him until Graham returned with tea and a plate piled high with rapidly cooling toast that was slathered with jam and butter almost thicker than the bread itself.

  Cold toast wasn’t my breakfast of choice, but it was good, quick fuel. I made Asharic eat some too and drink the tea—human, not Fae—but I couldn’t blame Graham for that. There was no time for brewing Fae tea, though I could have used some. Human tea provided a rapid hit of energy, but it didn’t have the restorative powers of one of my own brews.

  By the time Ash had watched me drink several cups and finish the toast, all of his men had been taken off to wards or treatment rooms.

  The flow of incoming patients had slowed enough that there was no one else waiting for my attention—or anybody else’s—and more orderlies appeared with trays of toast and tea, handing them out to healers and patients well enough to eat and those who’d accompanied the wounded with speed and efficiency.

  “It looks like everything is momentarily under control,” I said. “Which means, Captain Pellar, that you will let me look at that leg now.”

  He put down his teacup and nodded. “All right. But no interrogating me about Ignatius while you do. I’d like to get some sleep today, and it will be faster if I tell everybody at once.”

  I pressed my lips together, but I couldn’t fault his logic—it would be quicker to tell his story just once—so there was no point arguing with him. “No questions,” I agreed.

  ASH

  The color had returned to Bryony’s face by the time she had me settled in one of the small treatment rooms. But as she gathered a variety of potions and cleaning materials and bandages and lined them up precisely on a tray with movements that were a little too tightly controlled, I was beginning to wonder if it was tea or temper that had restored her.

  Obviously she didn’t take kindly to waiting to hear my explanation, but that couldn’t be helped. There were a few people who needed to hear my report and I didn’t feel like giving it multiple times or answering the same questions over and over again.

  Neither was I in the mood for being scolded by Bryony. My leg felt as if it were on fire. Lady only knew what muck the Beast had had on his claws, but the gash he’d carved in my thigh stung and throbbed like the very depths of hell.

  The rest of me ached in sympathy. Or from the echoes of the iron, the night’s exertion, and gods knew how many blows and bruises and strains I’d gathered over the course of the hours.

  I hissed a little as Bryony doused the bandage around my leg with pale yellow liquid. It was cool but only increased the burning.

  “It will hurt more if I pull it free without loosening the dried blood,” she said curtly.

  “I’m not complaining,” I pointed out.

  “Good.” She studied the bandage for a second, then pursed her lips together and soaked another swab of cotton in the liquid. The scent of it was fresh and clean as she pressed it against the cut on my face.

  I clenched my jaw against the fiery sting, which only made the cut ache more, and made sure I didn’t make a noise.

  Bryony’s hands were gentle, which was more than I could say for the expression she wore.

  “Do you have any other cuts?” she asked when she was done with the ones on my face.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Just bruises.”

  “Take your shirt off,” she said.

  I felt my eyebrows lift. “Here?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped. “I need to see what other damage you’ve done to yourself.” She picked up the dish of dirty swabs from beside me and then put it down again with enough force to make the table the tray sat on shudder.

  I reached out and caught her wrist. “I’m all right,” I said.

  “You don’t even know the meaning of all right. In one day you bring half the Veiled Court down on your head and let Ignatius Grey cut you, and to follow it all up you let a Beast gnaw on your leg.” Her words tumbled out with a passion, her tone rising with each word.

  “Technically he clawed me, not chewed on me,” I said gently.

  “As if that makes a difference,” she said. “Idiot man.” Her voice wobbled a little on the last syllable. Wobbled. As though she might cry. Bryony, who never cried.

  “Well, it’s less painful,” I said, and tugged her closer. When she was close enough I eased off the bed so I could stand. Fire arced up and down my leg again, but that didn’t matter right here and now. What mattered was making Bryony feel better. I pulled her against me. “I’m all right, love. Truly. Good as new once you fix me. Maybe even better.”

  She resisted my embrace, standing stiff in my arms. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Love? Can’t help it. It’s the truth.”

  She tilted her head back, the dark blue of her eyes deeper than I’d ever seen it. “I—”

  “You don’t have to say it back,” I said. “Not until you’re ready.”

  She ducked her head at that and curled herself against me, burying her face in my neck. I held her while she took several shuddering breaths, feeling peace spread through me at the feel of her body against mine. The night had been full of darkness and death, but this—this was light and life and it was what I was fighting for. To make a safe place for her.

  Veil take money and glory and whatever other victories war might bring. I would be happy if I could keep Bryony happy and safe. For as long as she let me do so.

  I brushed a kiss over her hair and she turned her head, her hand curling to the back of my head, her lips seeking mine.

  There was urgency in her kiss. Urgency and confusion and relief, I thought while I could still think about anything more than the feel and taste of her. Everything else, all the pains and aches and fatigue, evaporated momentarily and a different kind of fire rushed through me. My arms tightened around her and pulled her closer. But as I shifted my weight onto m
y injured leg, the wound protested and I winced.

  Bryony must have felt the movement, because she pulled away. “I need to look at that,” she said.

  “I can think of other body parts that would prefer your attention,” I grumbled, but I let her go. She sounded normal again, and in truth, unless I was going to lie back and let her do all the work—which was not without a certain appeal—our business could wait until after I was healed.

  “I’m sure you can,” she said. “But if I need to be patient, so do you.” But a smile curved her lips, and the midnight blue eyes were heated now, not stricken.

  “You don’t play fair,” I said as she started to unwind the bandage from my leg.

  “Neither do you,” she pointed out. Then her smile turned wicked as she eased the bloodstained length of fabric away from my trousers. “Now take your pants off.”

  BRYONY

  In the end, we gathered at the Brother House. Ash and I had met Simon and Lily en route to my office after I’d finished patching him up. Simon’s eyes had the icy glint they got when he was truly angry, an expression that made him look far more like Guy despite the difference in their coloring.

  Apparently Lily had told him whatever part of the story about her and Ash and Ignatius that was hers to tell. Judging by his face, it wasn’t a good story.

  Beside him, Lily was quiet as usual. And, as usual, impossible to read. She’d been raised by a Blood lord even more dangerous than Ignatius Grey and had learned impeccable control at a very young age. But she stayed close to Simon, as though hoping to calm him before they got wherever they were going.

  Which was to find me, apparently. Before Simon could speak, Ash held up his hand and said, “I’ve already told Bryony that I’m going over this once and once only. So let’s find Guy and it will go a lot faster for everybody.”

  Simon nodded and he and Lily fell into step with us. I passed the time—and tried to distract Simon—by asking him about his patients and getting him to brief Ash about the status of the men he’d come to St. Giles with. Ash had demanded a report after I finished with him and I’d had one of the healers fill him in, but I figured hearing it again from Simon couldn’t hurt. It might mean that Ash would actually rest after we had met with Guy.