She swallowed; Averin’s hand was already healing.
Klaus’s fingernails dug into her. “Come on, Stasha. Let’s move.”
Klaus was right. As usual.
She held onto him tightly as she clambered across the wood, away from the fae.
An eerie roar stopped her in her tracks.
Averin swore.
Breath snagging in her throat, she whipped around.
At least thirty fae males clothed in red fighting leathers with swords drawn ran down the buckled road toward the square. At their head, a fae male trailed tongues of golden flame from his fingers. A familiar sigil—two firebirds—was stamped to his leathers, above his heart.
Pyreack soldiers.
The same fae kingdom the monsters who’d killed Tarik had come from.
“We have to go.” Averin reached for her arm, then hesitated. “Just come with us. Please.”
How insane did he think she was? Averin was not only fae; he’d caused this. He’d done something to her that had led to this calamity.
“In your dreams, Blue Eyes.”
Averin grabbed her arm. The world twisted and spun. Her vision blurred and bile surged into her throat.
“Stasha!”
Somewhere in the far-off distance, she heard Klaus call her name.
A surge of energy pushed through her body, rocketing up her spine to where Averin’s hand clamped tightly around her arm. The scent of singed hair filled her nose. Orange light flickered to life around her. Sparks took flight like summer fireflies, rubbing against her skin in a gentle, loving caress.
She started. Why did they not burn her?
Averin yelped and let go. The world stopped spinning, lurching sideways. Stasha stumbled onto the pyre. Klaus tumbled from her back, and his leg hit the burning wood with a crack.
Averin was hunched over, beating at the bright flames licking his torso. Her stomach curdled, threatening to send vomit to her mouth.
His friends leapt to help him quell the fire.
A laugh echoed through the clearing.
The leader of the approaching army raised a hand. A ball of golden flame shot into the air. It exploded and rained fire over the remains of Askavol. The flames rushed like an asp for the pyre. It snarled and hissed at the flames surrounding Averin and his friends.
The wood beneath Stasha’s boots burned.
She grabbed Klaus’s hand and yanked him out of the blaze. His new trousers were burning. She frantically beat them with her hands. Astonishingly, she felt no pain or heat as the fire licked her palms. The flames quickly extinguished.
Klaus pulled away from her. “Go. Forget me. I’ll just slow you down.”
“Idiot.” She scooped both hands under his armpits and dragged him to the edge of the pyre. She jumped to the flagstones, doing her best to support his bad leg. He flopped down next to her. “Now we run.”
The Pyreack soldiers were just a block from the square.
Klaus lumbered to his feet and took her hand. “You’ll have to carry me. Better to leave me.”
“Shut up, or I’ll hit you when this is over.” Not caring about his stupid leg—it would recover when they were free—she broke into a run, dragging him behind her.
“Wait!” Averin had beaten off the flames and rolled down the pyre. The inferno surged ahead, blocking his path to her. “Stop! I can help you.”
“Get lost! You did this. It’s all your fault.”
Something hard struck the back of her head.
A rock.
Head throbbing, she stumbled.
The Kňazer cloaked in white leaped in front of her. Where he’d come from in the deserted square, she didn’t know. He clutched a schorl blade. The sharp scent of his fear and hate overwhelmed her. Despite the danger, she flinched from this new power to smell fear.
The Kňazer’s lips pulled back. “No! You did this. You called them here!” He swung the dagger at her.
An axe flew past her face and embedded in the Kňazer’s head.
She yelped and slammed a hand over her open mouth. As the hateful man crumpled to his knees and slumped into the dust, blood and brain oozed from his caved-in skull. She slammed her teeth together against the retching she couldn’t contain. Klaus heaved and gagged, tugging on her to move, move.
The Pyreack soldiers spilled into the square.
Crackling fire snaked across the flagstones toward her. It forked into two tongues, quickly encircling her and Klaus in a scorching wall as broad as she was tall.
She swore, circling helplessly in her prison. The heat brushed against her skin like a lover’s fingers, leaving no trace or burns. But Klaus….
Sweat ran down his forehead, evaporating into steam before it could reach his temples. He flinched against the searing heat.
Wind crashed into the flame, howling through the fire’s laughter, trying to suck the air out of its reach.
Averin’s power. Stasha yelped with relief. Was he really trying to help them?
Steel clashed where Averin had been, and the wind stilled. The army had reached him.
Through a small gap in the flame, she spotted a deserted side street that led to the forest.
“Now.” Klaus must have seen it too.
They dove through the gap and stumbled across the square to the street at Klaus’s fastest trot.
Golden flame seared the flagstones in front of them. They skidded to a stop. The flames circled them.
Trapped again.
Would another blast of wind rescue them? Or had Averin given up on her? The wind could only have come from him. A Zephyr soldier. He and his two friends were badly outnumbered here. The underdogs. Would Averin stand and fight, or would he flee? Not knowing why he—or any of the fae—were here made it impossible to tell.
The crackling fire parted, and the Pyreack leader stepped into the circle. The flames licked his flesh harmlessly as it closed behind him. He crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Stasha shoved Klaus behind her.
The fae’s eyebrows tilted, and she saw her mistake. She’d shown weakness, told him she had something to lose. It took all of her self-control not to clutch at her clothing.
The fire reflected in his schorl-black eyes. They danced in delight. But at least they were fixed on her, not Klaus.
Good.
“Staa-sha-aa.” The fae leader rolled her name off his tongue as if it were honey. “Is that your name?” A small, cruel smile twisted his lips. A monster waiting to devour her.
Trying to ignore the nervous sweat peppering her upper lip, she allowed her gaze to sweep from the black sword strapped to his belt, to his fae ears, to his merciless, immortal face. “What’s it to you who I am?”
The fae’s half smile didn’t budge. “We’ve been looking for you for a very long time. Now I’ve found you.” He stepped closer. “You’re coming with us, and I’d suggest you do so without fuss.”
Beyond the fire, steel crashed. Averin and his friends still fighting the Pyreack army?
What had gone so wrong in her world that Pyreack and Zephyr fae were both searching for her?
The fae raked his gaze up her skinny frame, smirking.
She wouldn’t bet on herself in a fight against him. Still, she had to brazen her way through this. It was the only weapon she had.
“And if I don’t?”
A cacophony of screams rose from beyond the wall of fire.
She flinched.
Carried on the smoke, the stench of burning flesh and hair reached her.
Had they rounded up all the inhabitants of Askavol? Were they burning Hathrine, Goul, and Ivan while she jabbered with this monster?
The fae’s terrible smile darkened. “I see you’ve worked out what will happen if you argue, which we both know would be pointless anyway.”
Sick bastards. She’d get him for this.
The encircling fire flared, as if it, too, was furious with the barbarous cruelty.
The fae snorted. “Enough! Come quietly, or
I’ll roast your little human friend you seem so determined to protect.”
Her mouth went slack. Klaus choked on a cry behind her as the fire danced closer. His hands locked on her shoulders. She inched back into him, turning slightly to meet his eyes. They were drenched with fear.
She flicked her gaze back to the fae. “A deal. I’ll go without a murmur, but you don’t hurt him. You let him and everyone else in this village live. With no exceptions.”
“No!” Klaus almost crushed her. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
She squeezed his thigh. In time, he would come to know that this was the only way—if he ever forgave her.
The fae flicked his fingers. The fire behind him thinned enough for her to see lines of terrified humans on their knees. Hathrine, Goul, and Ivan were there too. Pyreack fae circled them like wolves.
Four charred bodies smoldered at the head of line. She recognized Martka Alyona’s shriveled face amid the mounds that had once been human. Any truth the old woman knew about Stasha had died with her.
She hissed out a breath, and her body slumped into itself. How carelessly these fae killed. Did they feel nothing for others? And she had just agreed to go with their leader.
“You have yourself a deal,” the fae leader said, sealing her fate.
Gently, she pushed Klaus back. “Run. Be safe. I’ll find you when this is over.”
Klaus dug his fingers deeper into her shoulders. She met his tawny eyes, silently begging him to leave, to run, and to never look back. To have the incredible life they’d dreamed of.
Klaus’s body melded into hers.
The fae leader motioned one of his companions forward.
Hard faced, the fae soldier tilted his sword at Klaus. Fire danced across its tip. “Back away, human. Unless you want to be lunch.”
Stasha snarled, a horrible inhuman noise—a fae snarl—and lunged at the soldier.
The leader thrust his hand between them. “No one touches her little friend.” But that same sick smile danced on his lips.
She nudged Klaus one last time and shot him a warning glance. Please listen. Please understand. She stepped away from him.
His bottom lip quivered, and his eyes dulled.
She wanted to yell that this wasn’t over, that she would be back to find him. That he just had to believe in … hope.
She didn’t say a word. To do so would alert the bastards to her plans. It would tell the monsters that the deal she’d made wasn’t worth a lick of spit. The moment their backs were turned, she’d vanish.
Just like smoke.
She’d come back here to find Klaus.
The fae leader grabbed her neck. Pain shot through her before everything went black.
Through Stasha’s foggy consciousness, she smelt something bad—a dark, bitter smell. Her nose twitched. Some sort of roasted meat.
Even the air seemed thicker than usual. Not thin and frosty as she’d always known it. It weighed heavily in her lungs, and her gasps were shallow.
She coughed and winced at a twang of pain in her chest. Her neck was stiff, like the muscle and bone had warped away from her spine, a sharp contrast to the softness pressed against her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open. A low wooden roof hung above her. It was painted with bright orange, yellow, and gold swirls.
Fire.
Each plume was so finely detailed that she was sure it would flare down and scorch the skin from her bones. A shape emerged from the chaos: two firebirds with their wings flared around a crest. She had seen the terrible image before.…
The Pyreack fae!
She bolted upright, smacking her head against the wood ceiling. Swearing, she rubbed her scalp.
What had happened?
The wooden floor beneath her jolted violently, nearly knocking her from the bench. She cursed loudly. A horse whinnied outside.
A carriage. A pretty little prison covered in deep-red cushions and swirls of paint. The armrests on the bench she crouched on were covered in intricate carvings and designs. The price of the carriage would have fed her entire village for decades.
Her empty stomach churned, and she wished she had something to throw up, if only for the relief.
She ran a hand along her ear, checking again to see if it was still pointed. Still fae. Her fingers probed the sharp tip, and she cursed.
That bastard Averin’s glamour was still on her. How long could it hold? How long had it been?
The horse whinnied again, and this time, the carriage stopped.
Her fingers brushed the gold-trimmed curtain just as the door flew open. She yelped, jumping back against the hard bench as blinding white light flooded her.
“You’re awake.” The voice belonged to the same monster who’d threatened to fry Klaus. The Pyreack leader who had knocked her unconscious with a mere touch.
She squinted against the light, just making out his silhouette. His hand was extended. To help her out? Someone behind him sniggered. The sound battered her ears. If this was fae hearing, no wonder Averin had eavesdropped on her conversations without difficulty.
Only she wasn’t fae, merely glamoured to look like one. To feel like one. Anything else was too abhorrent to believe.
More sounds assaulted her: fae sharpening weapons against whetstones, laughter, someone tossing out a bucket of water, fire crackling. As jarring as the sounds were, they gave her no real clues as to where she could be.
The Pyreack soldier flicked his outstretched hand. “Hurry up.”
She glared at him, giving her eyes time to adjust while debating whether to spit on him.
“You can stay here if you like, but then you’re not getting any food.” His coal-dark eyes, now visible with the rest of him, danced, as if blackmailing her and then knocking her unconscious was vastly amusing. She wanted to rip both of them out of their sockets.
Without moving, she demanded, “What am I doing here? Where are we?”
He didn’t drop his hand, but he didn’t answer either.
“I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on,” she yelled.
His smile turned to a sneer. “I’m taking you to the Kingdom of Pyreack, where you belong. The king has need of you.” His sharp face, the cold malice in his deep-set eyes, and the quiet menace in his voice told her he wasn’t joking.
Her blood turned cold. “What for?” Is that why she’d burned Averin, because she “belonged” in the Kingdom of Pyreack? Is that what Martka Alyona had known? And was that why the old woman had allowed her to keep her amber pendant? She would never know the answer.
The fae’s lips curled. “Get out of the carriage before I drag you out.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to run and find Klaus. Together they could figure out how they’d gotten into such a mess.
Her racing heart almost stopped. Had Klaus survived? And the rest of the villagers, who had tried to burn her to death? Or had this monster reneged on their deal the moment she’d blacked out?
She would never rest until she knew Klaus was safe.
Part of being reunited with him relied on information—information this fae held. It was time to cooperate. At least a bit. She batted his hand away and stepped out.
He scoffed but dropped his hand to rest on the carved pommel of the sword strapped to his belt. Beneath his grip, she couldn’t make out the carving, but it glinted onyx in the fading light.
It had been dawn when she was taken. How far could they have gone in a day?
She looked around for a recognizable landmark—and gaped.
A sea of red-and-black tents flapped in the breeze. Flags flew from the peaked tips of the largest ones. Each was emblazoned with the flaming firebird crest.
At the farthest extreme, the lines of tents were flanked by a forest she didn’t recognize. Instead of familiar pine, the trunks of these pale trees were ragged. The bark hung in long shreds like torn skin.
The pale trees, flutte
ring with brittle yellow leaves, all that was left at the tail end of autumn, felt wrong. Dirty. As if thousands of eyes peered at her through the thick, skeletal branches. Sizing her up. Tasting her scent on the frosty wind as if it were blood on a tongue.
She turned away from them, shivering. Wherever she was, it was a long way from home.
Smoke rose from a fire amongst the tents. It carried that foul aroma of roasting meat. The Martka claimed that fae ate naughty children. And the fae soldier in Askavol had also threatened to turn them into lunch. There had to be truth in the threat.
No! Stop it!
If she gave in to those thoughts, panic would overwhelm her.
“Finished gaping?” her captor demanded. Still that cruel smile twitched. He didn’t wait for an answer before striding into the maze of tents. With nowhere to run and fae soldiers at her heels, she followed him.
Every fae she saw was male, and they all wore red fighting leathers with the Pyreack crest emblazoned on their chests. This had to be one of the camps the Pyreack fae had set up while invading.…
Her eyes widened. What kingdom was she in? It couldn’t be Zephyr. Pyreack hadn’t established a foothold strong enough to house a camp of this size in the Kingdom of Zephyr yet.
Or had they?
If only she’d asked Klaus for more details from that newspaper. If she was somehow no longer in Atria.… If she’d been taken too far to get back and find Klaus—
She tripped over a guy rope. A firm hand grabbed her arm and steadied her. A fae soldier. Dark skinned with dark hair and intelligent brown eyes, he was surprisingly handsome, despite his pointed fae ears.
Not wanting to be touched by these creatures, she curled her lip back and hissed at him like a feral cat. He let go of her and gestured with his hand for her to keep up with the leader. She turned away and concentrated on her footing.
They stopped at a large black tent. Grander than any of the others, it was trimmed with red tassels and golden braid. The familiar firebird crest was embroidered on the flaps, the roof, and on the flag waving above it.
She clenched her fists to keep from trembling.
Don’t show fear. They could probably taste it in the air, and that was enough.
Two guards armed with crossbows and a baldric of daggers strapped across their chests stood at attention. One of them pulled open a tent flap. Warmth spilled from inside. It reeked of roasted meat.
The Fire Thief Page 8