Ignited

by A. M. Deese

  “I wish you were going to be in the council meeting with me tomorrow. Not that I’m unhappy your father is feeling better, but I had hoped—”

  “Where did you hear that?” Jura leaned close to her friend, her heart leaping to her throat. “Did you see him?”

  “No, I didn’t see him. But Velder came calling to speak with father. He said it was a matter of importance. He requests a meeting with the first three houses. I don’t think he was too happy that I’m acting as interim Third.”

  Jura let out a small laugh. “He wouldn’t tell you anything either, huh?”

  “I wish he hadn’t,” Amira frowned. “It’s bad news, Jura. I wish I could tell you, but Velder said it wasn’t to be discussed outside the heads of the first three families.” She sighed dramatically and fell back against the bed. “Honestly, I don’t know how you did it. It’s only been a day and already I’m more stressed out than I’ve ever been. Don’t worry, though. I won’t have any more to drink.”

  “What’s going on? What doesn’t Velder want anyone to know?”

  Amira shook her head violently, causing her thick braid to fall over her shoulder. “Jura, you mustn’t ask me again. I really can’t tell you.” She frowned over at her. “Besides, we all have our secrets, don’t we?”

  Jura stared at Amira, resisting the urge to scream in frustration. She had been keeping many secrets from her friend, and she probably deserved this bit of payback. She just wished that Amira didn’t seem to be enjoying it so much.

  “Yes, I suppose we do. And you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

  Amira suddenly giggled. “You know, I don’t remember how I got to my room. I’m assuming you?”

  Jura smiled back. “You were pretty intoxicated. I had to carry you.”

  Amira’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Jura admitted. You’re not fat but you’re far from light.”

  Amira tossed a pillow at Jura’s face. “I remember talking to you and Beshar.”

  Jura laughed. “Oh, you did. You practically propositioned him for me.”

  “No,” Amira’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, yes. We’re having dinner in his apartments.”

  “Did you—that is, do you…” She trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. “Do you really like him, Jura?”

  “I do.” Jura answered carefully, picking over her words. “He’s very…interesting.”

  Amira seemed to consider this. “What are you going to wear?”

  Jura thought of her wardrobe. She needed to wear something sexy, and her entire wardrobe was anything but.

  “I have no idea.” I’m in way over my head.

  Amira laughed, “Well, we don’t have much time to figure it out. You have less than an hour before the dinner hour.”

  Jura jumped up from the bed startled. Was it really so late? The entire day had been a disaster. She felt a fool for even continuing through with her dinner plans. Father is missing. What good will come from a seduction attempt? What good is knowing who’s responsible for father’s blood chain when he’s missing? And where in the sandstorm is he?

  Amira was saying something, and Jura focused her attention back to their conversation.

  “…and if we had more time we could do it.”

  “Do what?” Jura asked blankly. She had to stop zoning out.

  “Take in one of my gowns. They’d never fit you as is. You’d look like a little girl playing dress up. I’ve never seen anyone as short as you.”

  “The Fifth is.” Jura mumbled defensively.

  Amira brightened. “That’s a great idea!”

  “What is?”

  “Borrowing a dress from the Fifth. She has hundreds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her repeat one.” She sighed wistfully. “I wonder what it’s like to be so rich and in total control of your own fortune? Father never lets me have enough dresses.”

  “I’m not asking the Fifth to borrow a dress.” Jura frowned at the idea.

  “Why not? Come on, Jura, it’s the perfect idea. You can’t wear your tunic and robes on a dinner date, no matter how nice they are. You need a dress and she has plenty in your size.” She jumped off the bed and pulled at her arm. “We’re asking her. It’s final.”

  “No, I don’t think—”

  “It’s the best idea you’ve had in ages. Come one, we’re running out of time.”

  Jura allowed herself to be dragged from the room. Her Arbe quickly fell in place beside them.

  “Isn’t it odd what your father’s doing?”

  “What do you mean?” Jura concentrated on walking and keeping her breathing calm and even.

  “Wandering about the palace without his Arbe. It makes no sense.”

  Sandstorms. Amira was right. People would question it. And was he simply just wandering about the palace? The glass halls were empty save for the girls. If her father was meandering through the halls, surely someone would have spotted him.

  “The First has always believed in taking care of himself.” Jura replied with the vaguest answer she could think of.

  Amira nodded, taking a sharp left in the direction of the Fifth’s apartments. “You’re right, of course. Who would dare to challenge the First?”

  Who indeed.

  They arrived at the door to the Fifth’s apartments. No men stood guard, and Amira sniffed at the lack of security.

  The Fifth answered the door herself. She wore a black silk dressing robe that fell to the ground in soft waves about her tiny frame. Her hair was unbound and hung in a straight waterfall down her back. Her tired eyes widened in curiosity at the girls.

  “Daughters of the First and Third. What an interesting surprise. Please, do come in.” She opened the door wide, and Jura heard Amira mutter about the Fifth’s trust as they walked inside.

  Though smaller than her own halls and apartments, the Fifth’s were lavishly decorated and screamed of her wealth. Marbled pillars were spaced throughout the room and the tiles of the walls were lined with gold. Jura had a sinking realization that it was actual gold, probably shipped from Kitoi. Thick lush carpeting covered the stone floor, and on the far side of the room, a jade statue of a child spitting water from its mouth into a tiny pool full of the precious liquid. Jura gaped at the wealth. She’d never seen anything so ostentatious in her life.

  The Fifth took a seat on a soft, plush chaise and gestured for them to do the same.

  “What can I do for you girls?” Her voice was curious; her eyes shrewd and questioning.

  Jura suddenly felt very foolish for coming to see her.

  “The daughter of the First needs a favor.” Amira said, lifting her chin and sounding haughty. Trust Amira to remind a woman twice her age that she was lower than herself in Rank.

  Unfazed, the Fifth raised her brow. “Does she?” She smiled a bit, looking to Jura.

  Amira nodded. “Yes. She needs a dress.”

  “I can ask for my own favor,” Jura muttered to Amira, and the Fifth smiled wider.

  “My lady Fifth—” Jura began.

  “Please, call me Denir.” Her voice was low and husky, and she stared at Jura with direct eyes that made her blush uncomfortably.

  “Denir,” she repeated. “I was hoping to borrow a dress.”

  The Fifth widened her eyes and Jura hurried to explain.

  “I don’t really own one, you see, and I have a dinner date.”

  Understanding dawned on Denir’s face, and she stood from her chaise, motioning forward a handmaiden that Jura hadn’t noticed.

  “Of course,” Denir said smoothly. “Something in a jewel tone, I imagine, to compliment your complexion.” She gestured for the girls to follow her into the adjoining chamber. The room was dominated by a massive bed that took up most of the room and a large wooden armoire that took up the rest of the space.

  “Thank you.” Jura said awkwardly as the handmaiden began pulling gowns out from the Fifth’s armoire.

  Amira eyed the gowns crit
ically, pointing out a deep blue sapphire. “That one.” She held out an expectant hand, and, amused, Denir nodded for her handmaiden to place it in Amira’s outstretched arm. Amira held the gown up against Jura’s slender frame. Jura frowned at the gown’s plunging neckline. The dress was everything she needed it to be, and she was terrified of it.

  “Ohh, I love this,” Amira squealed in excitement and pushed past the handmaiden to reach into Denir’s armoire. She pulled out a long, gold chain that held a deep blue stone.

  “Is this a birthstone? It matches the dress perfectly. You simply must let Jura borrow it.”

  Denir stood up quickly. Her arm snaked out and snatched the stone and its delicate chain from Amira’s fingers.

  “That’s not yours to loan.”

  Embarrassed, Jura shot a warning glance to her friend. “Of course not, my lady Fifth.” She glared at Amira. “What are you doing?”

  Nonplussed Amira shrugged. “What? It’s just a necklace. It’s not even really her birthstone.” Amira looked pointedly at the red stone that hung from Denir’s neck. The Fifth tucked the red stone back under her dressing gown and shoved the other one in her pocket.

  “It’s not my birthstone. But the necklace has sentimental value. The stone was my mother’s.”

  Horrified, Jura nodded. “Of course. Amira was just being presumptuous. Thank you, my lady. The dress is lovely.”

  Denir stared from one girl to the other; her face unreadable. “You’re quite welcome. You girls had best be along now. You wouldn’t want to miss your dinner.”

  She ushered the girls to her door, and Jura thanked her again, still embarrassed by Amira’s display. Once outside the Fifth’s apartments and back in the glass halls, Jura frowned at her friend.

  “That was rude, asking to borrow someone’s birthstone simply isn’t done.”

  “It wasn’t her stone.” Amira said pointedly, refusing to be chastised. “Besides, it matched the dress perfectly. The ocean blue looks great with the sapphire.”

  Jura stopped in her tracks and turned to stare up at her friend in wonder. “What did you just say?”

  “That it matched the dress. Which it did.” Amira frowned down at the sapphire dress she still clutched and handed it over to Jura.

  Jura took the dress, remembering the words of Tylak.

  “No, not that part. The part about the color of the stone.”

  “What? Ocean blue? It’s a lovely color.”

  “You’ve never been to the ocean.”

  “Oh, Jura. Don’t pretend you’ve never seen the painting in our salon. That stone was the same color.”

  Right. A coincidence maybe? Jura doubted it.

  Chapter Thirty

  JURA

  The gown was somewhat loose on her bosom, but Amira’s handmaiden was able to pin it back easily. Afterward, Jura had to admit it fit perfectly.

  “You look gorgeous,” Amira sighed, pushing Jura’s shoulders so she would take a step back and allow Amira to examine her figure.

  Jura frowned at her image in the looking glass. Her hair was captured in a loose braid that hung over her shoulder and provided some coverage from the plunging neckline of the dress. If Jura’s bosom was more impressive, the neckline would barely be able to contain them. She couldn’t believe that the Fifth had actually worn the gown in public. The blue silk complemented her tan skin and dark brown hair and clung to her skin in a way that was teasing and soft. Her cheeks were red, flushed from embarrassment. She spun in a slow circle, blushing at the way the dress belled out and exposed her ankles. It was a perfect dress for seduction. Jura immediately wanted to take it off.

  “Are you sure it’s not too much?” She pulled the fabric away from her skin to scowl down at it.

  Amira rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect. It’s what everyone wears in Kitoi. In fact,” she leered down at Jura’s chest and wriggled her eyebrows. “It might not be enough.”

  Mortified, Jura crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t do this.”

  “I was only teasing, Jura.” Amira pulled her arms down and smiled at her friend. “Truly, you look beautiful. Beshar won’t be able to resist you. No one could.” She grinned. “The only question now is why would you ever choose the fat, rotting body of the Tenth when you could have any man you wanted?”

  Jura shook her head, refusing to answer. “I better get going.”

  “Of course.” Amira nodded enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t want you to be late.” She frowned, looking unsure before blurting out, “Leave some of your men with me? Please? I should have an Arbe of my own again by tomorrow, but I’m much too frightened to go without one. Dahr is still out there. He probably wants to finish what he’s started.”

  “Absolutely.” She indicated for East and West to stay behind, deciding to keep North and South with her this time. “You really feel it was the Fourth?”

  “Who else would it have been?” Amira shivered and shook her head. “I’m speaking out against him at council session tomorrow. I’m voting for him to be brought down. I wish you were going to be there. I’m not sure I can convince your father to back my vote. Maybe you could talk to him before the meeting?”

  Jura nodded absently, distracted by the idea. Would her father attend the session or would his absence become public knowledge?

  She said her goodbyes once again and began the long walk down the east halls on her way to the Tenth’s apartments. North and South followed her. North looked particularly ready and kept his hand rested on his scimitar. She knew she’d reached the private halls of the Tenth when she saw the presence of his oiled men. She fought the growing anxiety in the pit of her belly. It’s not too late to run, she told herself. Yet, inexplicably her feet continued forward. Two of his oiled men, they really all looked the same and she wondered how he told them apart, swung open the large, imposing double doors to his private apartments. Jura stepped inside.

  She was immediately greeted by the crisp smells of saffron and roasted fowl. Her mouth began to water. As always, her nerves only served to make her more ravenous. She stared at the opulence of his rooms, wondering at his vast wealth. Why, Beshar appeared to have even more money than the Fifth. His carpets were thick and luxurious, and intricate tapestries lined the walls. But what was most shocking was that Beshar had an actual body of water in his salon. A tiny pool full of fish. They swam about the glass box flashing a variety of colors. The idea of owning water that wasn’t used as drinking water was outrageous. The only time Jura had seen a fish was in a drawing in a book. She couldn’t believe Beshar kept a reserve of water simply for the creatures to swim around in his home. Any riches found in her own home paled in comparison to those she’d found in the towers of the Fifth and Tenth. How’s such a thing even possible?

  “Hello! Jura, my dear, you look stunning.” Beshar’s robust greeting snapped her attention back to thoughts of seduction. He reached for her cloak and pulled her further inside.

  She blushed furiously and forced herself to lean into his touch. She could do this. She would do this.

  “May I offer you some wine?”

  “Yes, please.” She took the offered goblet without a moment’s hesitation and took a deep gulp, ignoring the burning sting of the alcohol.

  Beshar stared at her, his expression amused. “Yes, it’s an excellent vintage. It comes from my own vineyard, west of here in Tirdrakor.”

  “Near the wilds?” she asked, choking down more wine. She’d barely tasted it.

  Beshar hid a chuckle behind his handkerchief and refilled her glass. “Yes. Just outside the wilds, actually. Have you ever been?”

  She shook her head, taking another swallow. This time she noted the fruity and slightly acidic accents of the chilled wine. She took another sip, savoring the feeling on her tongue. It really was quite good.

  “Father would never approve of me traveling.”

  Beshar tsked. Waving an arm for the dining table to be set, he ushered her to a seat, his hand lightly pushing against the small o
f her back. She wondered at the delicate size of his fingers when he was so large.

  “That’s a pity. One can never truly broaden their knowledge until they have traveled to exotic places. New experiences bring new knowledge.”

  She nodded, taking her seat and swallowing more wine. You should slow down, she told herself. It would do no good to be so drunk she couldn’t complete her mission. She shivered. Did she really want to do anything sober? She took another swallow and pushed the glass out of her reach.

  “It smells delicious in here. I’m starved.”

  “Excellent, my lady. Then we shall feast.” He ordered the first course to be brought out, figs and dates stuffed with creamy goat cheese and smoked meat. It was delicious, and he paired it with a chilled white wine that sparkled and fizzed against her nose. Jura found that she liked it better than the red.

  “Is this from your vineyard too?” she asked, enjoying the way the bubbles rolled along her tongue. She was beginning to feel incredibly relaxed, and she bit into a stuffed fig with relish.

  “No. I bring this in from Friize. Do you like it?”

  She nodded. “It’s delicious. Where is Friize?” She tried out the foreign word. It sounded strange coming from her lips.

  “Northeast of here. A small country near the edge. ”

  “So far away? Do you travel there often?” She wondered at the idea. A trip like that would take several weeks.

  “Not so often as I used to. I have men to travel there for me now.”

  Of course, she thought to herself. He probably didn’t have to leave the Republic for anything. Her father was well traveled from the misadventures of his youth, though he never spoke to her of any of his journeys. And all of his traveling had come to a stop when Jura’s mother had died. Even after all these years, the pain of her death was still as sharp as ever. Jura took another swallow of the sparkling wine, enjoying its numbing effects.

  The next course brought out a clear soup that held floating mushrooms sliced paper thin. She loved the flavors and remarked upon the dish.

  “My chef is quite excellent.” He waved for the main course. Jura was reluctant to give up her soup but excited for the roasted fowl.