Breath of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  Jocasta suddenly takes off running, making me look left. Galen’s two children are heading for the crack in the wall—and freedom. Like the rest of her family, Jocasta is remarkably fast, and the pudgy boys don’t stand a chance. She erupts between them and twists their ears, sending them crashing to their knees with howls.

  At the same time, a number of drenched guards start edging into the throne room, looking uncertain about what to do. I have yet to stand, but Ianthe turns to face them, and you’d never know she’d just been knocked unconscious. Her green eyes glint. Her smile is awful, her spine straight, her chin set at a hard angle. A small, immovable force, Ianthe looks more than ready to take on the lot of them. Again.

  “Bow to your new sovereigns,” she commands, “or I’ll wash you clear out of the city.”

  There’s a scant moment of hesitation, and then the guards bend their knees. Their heads lower in deference to Griffin and me.

  “Now I know what you looked like five years ago.” Griffin shakes his head. “Actually, that’s what you look like now.”

  I cock my head. Ianthe looks like a warrior. Is that what Griffin sees?

  “Help me up,” I say under my breath.

  Griffin grips my elbow and lifts. My legs feel…all right.

  “Rise,” I tell the guards. Sure that someone went to raise the alarm, to the two closest I say, “Go to the barracks and call off whatever attack is being mounted. Don’t risk your lives to give Galen’s boys a chance at ruling just like their father. Appoline sacrificed herself for me. Her sisters are with us, and we expect the same loyalty from you.”

  There’s another slight hesitation while their uncertain gazes slide over us. Over Cerberus, the hound carefully surveying the scene with six watchful eyes. Over Bellanca and Lystra, who aren’t paying any attention to us at all.

  “Yes, Alpha Tarva,” the one who seems to be their leader answers.

  “Queen Catalia,” I correct, only choking on the title a little. I lay my hand on Griffin’s arm, mostly for balance, but no one needs to know that. “This is King Griffin. We’re both Alpha. Together.” There’s no point in mentioning my being the Origin. They won’t understand what I barely understand myself.

  “Send riders to fetch your healer from the hunting lodge and ours from the arena,” I add before they go. “Quickly. These soldiers need tending.” While a mess, I don’t see anyone who looks irretrievable. Yet.

  Looking somewhat confused—either by the novel idea of an Alpha couple, or by the equally novel idea of anyone in power caring what happens to simple soldiers—the guards nod. The two closest to us rush to do my bidding.

  I point to two more men. “You and you, go to the agoras of Tarva City and Kitros and announce that Elpis, the victors of the Agon Games, have seized control of Tarva. Since your new royals also rule Sinta, the two realms are now and forevermore joined as one.”

  Slow blinks and tentative nods greet my bold pronouncement. This will take some getting used to—for everyone.

  “You.” I point to another two. “Find me whoever is in charge of city planning. I want the destroyed neighborhood in Kitros cleaned up and replaced by an olive grove. Bury all the bones beneath the new trees. Our winnings from the Agon Games should more than finance the project.”

  The nods are quicker this time, almost eager. Expressions relax. Eyes brighten. Men straighten.

  Elpis.

  Hope moves like a shimmering current through the air, almost tangible, an unspoken whisper, a promise I didn’t even realize I was making until it was already done. Intention anchors itself deep in my bones. Goose bumps rise on my arms. Excitement. Fear.

  “You.” Another waterlogged guard snaps to attention. “Find me the castle scribe. We have news to spread. Sinta and Tarva are now one, and the Lost Princess of Fisa is coming for the rest of her kingdom.”

  Eyes widen, and pretty much everyone in the room sucks in an audible breath.

  The beginning of the end.

  All but two of the remaining intact guards depart.

  Turning to me, Griffin lifts his brows. “That’ll stir things up.”

  I nod. The new beginning. My heart pounds like a herd of Centaurs. Our baby’s tiny life beat flutters along in response. “At the very least, Mother will know the deal is off.”

  “Deal?” Griffin asks.

  “She was going to turn me over to Galen Tarva once she got her hands on me, giving him the Kingmaker in exchange for leaving her alone.”

  Griffin visibly shudders. “He must have threatened her with earthquakes and windstorms.”

  My lips thin. “I underestimated his magic. Dangerously so.”

  Griffin takes my hand and squeezes lightly. “You’ve had three minutes of practice, and you’re already a formidable queen.”

  It’s my turn to shudder. “What did you mean, a person like me?”

  He smiles a little wryly, his gray eyes glittering with that silver lining that’s become my future and my hope. “The same as always. Impetuous. Reckless.” His thumb brushes my knuckles. “Terrifyingly selfless.”

  This time, none of that sounds like a criticism. I’m too relieved to hold on to any anger, anyway. “Don’t forget exceedingly clever and very good at rhyming.”

  Griffin grins, and my heart flips over so hard it hurts. Then he cups my face with both hands, his eyes meeting mine. “My chest is bursting with pride.”

  At his quiet words, mine just about explodes.

  “Queen Catalia.” The look on Griffin’s face nearly melts me into a warm, gooey puddle. “The woman I love is carrying my child. I’m going to be a father.”

  I smile, a tickle of featherlight wings skimming the insides of my ribs. He’ll be a wonderful father. He’s definitely the one getting up at night.

  “What made you suspect?” I ask.

  Griffin’s mouth lifts. His eyes glimmer, crinkling at the corners. “I first wondered outside the Chaos Wizard’s house. You went from starving to lustier than a horde of Nymphs to weepy in the space of one conversation. Not like you at all.”

  I scowl. “What do you know about a horde of Nymphs?”

  “Only what I saw of Lycheron’s pack. Pretty. Eager.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Flexible.”

  I mash my lips together, my eyes narrowing. “There once was an Alpha named Griffin.” I stop, at a loss. “Son of a Cyclops! Nothing rhymes with Griffin.”

  He chuckles. “You’d have more luck with ‘An Origin named Cat.’”

  “Easy. She’s as crazy as a bat, and kind of a brat.”

  Smiling, Griffin drops his hands to my waist and pulls me in close. His lips trace a scorching path across my cheek to my ear. “And I love her just like that.”

  His gruff whisper sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Why did you collect that hellipses grass outside the wizard’s house?” I ask, suspecting I already know.

  “I was thinking about making a rattle, or a doll.” He shrugs. “It was good grass. I wanted to save some, just in case.”

  “It was good grass,” I agree. “Good enough for a Goddess.”

  He winks. “Or a princess.”

  Grinning like an idiot, I hug him close, inhaling citrus and sun—and the coppery scent of blood along with a faint essence of dog breath.

  Excitement floods me. A baby! My mother will never get her hands on my child.

  I sober instantly. “How can I fight a war with a baby?”

  Griffin sobers, too. “We’ll need to move fast.”

  “But you said not to change technique in the middle of the battle, and this changes everything.”

  “This battle is over, kardia mou. New round, new rules.”

  I frown. “What does that mean?”

  “It means it’s time to figure out your magic and face your mother. And you’ll do it, because you won’t le
t anyone harm our baby.”

  A great, burning fist seems to seize hold of my heart and squeeze. Little Eleni could have already perished in so many ways. Thinking back, I know Titos saved us both.

  Lifting my head, I take a deep, steadying breath. My eyes light on Galen’s two sons and then on Bellanca, Lystra, and Ianthe. The latter three aren’t our enemies. Ianthe chose me the second she saw me, and by protecting me at the cost of her own life, Appoline gifted her sisters’ loyalty to me. To Eleni.

  Galen’s boys are a different matter, but I’ll permanently hobble them in the least violent way I can. Jocasta still has them hobbled in her own surprisingly effective way.

  Ear twisting. Who knew? I’ll have to remember that.

  I move toward them with Griffin by my side. “I’m about to extract the longest, most comprehensive binding vow these little Magoi boys will ever say in their lives—which will be short, if they don’t agree to it.”

  Overhearing me, the boys’ eyes widen in horror. As one, they glance toward Cerberus, and their round, freckled faces pale.

  I smile a little evilly. It’s hard to resist. “And before you even think about breaking a binding vow, let me tell you that it’s horrifically painful. Your skin will burn, your eyes will melt, your blood will turn to liquid fire, and that’s before the Furies even show up to tear you limb from limb.”

  The boys recoil in terror, and I feel a pinch of guilt. I might need to work on how I communicate with children. Good thing I have time. About seven months, I’d say. Plus, babies don’t talk or really do anything for ages, right?

  “And then we’ll go home,” I add to Griffin. Because, Gods, I want to lie down and not get up for a week.

  “Sinta?” Griffin asks. “Or Fisa?”

  I stop walking and raise my fingers to the familiar, hard lines of his face, taking comfort in them. Rest or battle? Peace or Mother? “Sinta first. To show your family we’re okay.”

  “We can’t leave just yet,” he says, glancing around. “We have to settle things here first.”

  I nod. “We will. And we’ll also come back. This is a good location for us. Central. Closer to Fisa.”

  Griffin lifts my hand and kisses my palm. Then he lays it flat against his chest, a ridiculous grin spreading across his face. “I go where the Origin goes. Because she’s my wife.”

  I snort. “You’ve been wanting to say that for a long time, haven’t you?”

  He winks. “All my life, agapi mou. All my life.”

  Hand in hand with Griffin, I survey our second castle. Right here, it’s mostly rubble, but I think the damage is localized. “Our kingdom just doubled in size without a war. Maybe we can get Lycheron to guard the border with Fisa if we throw a bevy of Nymphs at him.”

  Griffin chuckles. “We can try.”

  I smile, too, but then a chill steals over me despite today’s almost inconceivable success and my husband’s strong, warm hand around mine. Griffin may not have had the benefit of a prophecy, but the Fates wove his future just as painstakingly as my own when they threaded our lives together. Having a destiny is both a blessing and a burden when the outcome remains uncertain, and Griffin’s unyielding vision for us is getting under my skin, invading my soul, and learning the path to my heart.

  No more hiding. No more head in the sand. No going back.

  My free hand curves around my belly, protecting the tiny, delicate gift inside of me. I look up at the man I love, marveling at what we’ve created together and knowing that with Fisa in our sights, and the most inhuman person I know between us and reuniting the realms, life is precious—and more fragile than ever before.

  Order Amanda Bouchet’s next book

  in The Kingmaker Chronicles

  Heart on Fire

  On sale January 2018

  HERE’S A SPECIAL SNEAK PEEK AT BOOK THREE IN AMANDA BOUCHET’S KINGMAKER CHRONICLES TRILOGY

  HEART ON FIRE

  “Let Cat go,” Griffin demands in a low, furious voice. He stalks forward, his face terrible with rage.

  His brother Piers drags me back again. One step. Two. My lungs feel crushed. I can hardly breathe.

  “Why are you chanting?” Griffin keeps advancing on us but holds out a hand to keep his young sister Kaia back. “What’s going on?”

  Fear twists my heart. Why doesn’t anyone listen to me! When I say run, I mean it!

  The indecision washes from Griffin’s face, replaced by hard resolve. He starts to close the final steps between us, and even though he doesn’t understand what’s happening yet, I know from his stony expression that he’ll fight his own brother down to blood and bone in order to set me free.

  As a last, desperate resort, I twist furiously in Piers’s arms and scream like a lunatic. It stops Griffin in his tracks and seems to startle Piers into loosening his grip. Feeling the change in pressure around my ribs, I stop thrashing and drop. My dead weight breaks his hold. I land in a crouch and take off, yelling for Griffin and Kaia to go before me.

  Thank the Gods, they spin and run without question, knowing I’m not far behind. I’m fast, but Griffin and Kaia outdistance me quickly. Griffin looks back, hesitating, and I gesture frantically for him to keep going. I don’t slow down even though my lower belly tightens, and the muscles there feel like they’re turning to stone. If he’s chasing me, I’m guessing Piers is as swift as the rest of his family, and I run faster than I ever have in my life, my legs flying and my lungs burning.

  I’m halfway to the road when Piers hits my back. Everything tilts, I go weightless for a sickening second, and then we both hit the ground with a bone-jarring crash. I just barely keep my head up, and my bare arms scrape painfully from my palms to my elbows as we skid across the dirt. Piers is flat-out across my back, and I wheeze a frightened sound, terrified of knocking little Eleni loose even though I know she’s been through worse.

  Griffin shouts my name again, and every protective instinct in me rebels. Don’t come back!

  Footsteps thunder in my direction. Piers is as heavy and solid as a Centaur. He’s somehow still chanting as he pushes me into the hard-packed earth. I try to breathe, but fear chokes what little air I have left in my lungs. He’s almost done, and I can’t let this happen. Griffin and Kaia are too close.

  I free an elbow and swing wildly back, hitting somewhere that makes Piers grunt the last word of the final repetition, sealing our fates forever. Ares.

  He just summoned the God of War.

  * * *

  Piers springs off me, spitting a curse as he backs away. I flip over and surge to my feet. Air flows more freely into my lungs again, but it still feels like I can’t breathe.

  “What in the name of the Gods is going on?” Griffin bellows, charging the last few steps to me. He came back. He’ll always come for me, and Kaia’s right behind.

  I throw out my hands. “No, Griffin! Stop!”

  A deafening roar sets off a series of explosions in my head, painful, like magic punches to the brain. Then the ground shakes as a man—no, Ares—drops from the sky like a lightning bolt. The terrain’s no longer that dry, but dust billows up from somewhere deep as the earth cracks all around him, fissures branching out like an enormous, tangled web.

  We all stagger, trying to keep our feet under us as the ground rattles with the force of an Olympian God. Griffin grabs my arm, trying to steady me. He latches on to Kaia, too. I gasp, my head still reeling. This is no ethereal, regal entrance like Artemis made on the Ice Plains. The stealthy and light-footed Goddess of the Hunt wove through our senses like moonbeams on a melody. This is the God of War landing like a thunderclap in our midst.

  His gray eyes widening and turning frantic with growing comprehension, Griffin shoves us both behind him with a hard thrust. Kaia and I hit like two hands clapping and grunt, and then Griffin quickly backpedals, forcing us to move with him.

  I twist enough to pee
r around my husband’s arm. Piers is on the other side of Ares, facing him in awe and apparent satisfaction. The God is looking at him, too, the person who did the summoning, and all we see is the broad and muscled back of the most colossal male I’ve ever seen. He’s bare from the waist up and wearing a wide, bronze, studded belt loaded with weapons of all shapes and sizes that brush his thick, leather-clad legs.

  “No one has summoned me in an age.” Ares’s voice is rich and deep. So is the chuckle that washes over me like a warm wave, the kind of inviting yet dangerous swell with an unpredictable undertow. It’ll drag you under and dash you against the rocks if you don’t know how to swim the waters. “This promises to be interesting.”

  Or heartbreaking.

  I tap Griffin’s arm, and he angles his head enough that our eyes catch for a split second while I hold a finger to my lips. If we’re silent and still, maybe Ares won’t notice us?

  Before Griffin turns back around, I see the same haunted fear I’m feeling building in his eyes. He knows what his brother did.

  Call a God, lose a soul. One of us isn’t leaving here with the others.

  Ares dips his head, and hair the color of polished olive wood glints in the sun. It brushes his massive shoulders, the locks a tawny blond streaked with darker tones. “I see. This is about the woman you call a warmonger.”

  An explosive jolt of adrenaline sends my heart slamming against my ribs. My pulse leaps to accommodate the accelerated beat, and I try to control the sudden panting rhythm of my breath. My lower belly tightens again and feels like lead. The Gods aren’t joking when they say they know everything.

  Piers nods and jerks his head at me, the ratter. So much for staying quiet and hidden. “She’s violent and a brute. She’ll fit right in with you.”

  Violent and a brute? Fit right in with you? Did he just insult an enormous God? He certainly offended me.

  The muscles across Ares’s back stiffen. “That’s your only request? To take her away?”