The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2)

by Barbara Kloss

Add skilled warrior to the list of his good traits. “Are you nervous?” I asked.

  He squinted at the stars and clenched his jaw. “Yes.” He paused, and the muscles in his face relaxed as he glanced back at me. “I won’t take offense should you be cheering for your brother.”

  I smiled and we sat there like that, smiling at each other.

  What are you doing? You just met the guy!

  Embarrassed, I glanced away, feeling his disappointment.

  “We should go back,” he said, not showing any outward signs of what he really felt.

  As much as I didn’t want to, I knew he was right.

  He didn’t offer to help me to my feet, but waited patiently near the hatch in the roof. The two of us wound back down the narrow staircase, down the silent corridors, all the way back to my hall, where a couple of guards stood watch.

  Danton saw them and glanced back at me. “Such a threat, you are. Are they always there?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Always.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” And he sounded like he really meant it. “This is where I’ll leave you, then.”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  He started to turn when I said, “Danton?”

  He glanced back.

  “Thank you, uh, for taking me up there, er”—Stop stuttering!—“it was…nice.”

  Nice?

  Great, you have no magic and, apparently, no vocabulary.

  Danton’s entire face lifted with his smile. “I enjoyed every moment of it. Perhaps,” he hesitated, “we can do it again, sometime?”

  I felt the heat rise to my face. “I’d like that.”

  He took my hand and held it to his lips. “Goodnight, Daria.” His lips warmed my fingers, and he slowly let go and retreated back down the hall.

  His cloak fluttered behind him as he disappeared down the corridor, walking with the easy confidence of one that hadn’t a care in the world. Not at all like he felt the pressure of the games or the weight of the prize.

  You’re still staring at him, doofus.

  I headed straight to my room feeling confused and little…guilty. But why should I feel guilty? It wasn’t like anyone had a claim on me or anything. No, he obviously didn’t care about me like that. In fact, he was supposed to have been here tonight, for the Aegis dinner, and he hadn’t exactly gone searching the halls trying to find me.

  Even though I knew I had to get over him, even though it still hurt me to think about him, I couldn’t help but feeling like I was betraying him.

  Betraying myself.

  ****

  I was running, hard.

  The sun warmed my skin as I breathed in the scent of grass and pine. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I bounded through the green fields.

  He wasn’t too much farther; I could see his dark hair ducking into the pine trees.

  I sprinted harder, my heart pounding as I rustled through the grasses, and once I finally reached the tree cover I stopped, panting.

  Where did he go?

  A shadow leapt at my side, knocking me to the ground.

  I laughed, trying to wriggle free, trying to gain advantage, but he was too strong. He was always too strong these days.

  I slipped my leg around his, but I couldn’t lock him down. I looped my arm through his, but he jerked it free. We tumbled and rolled on the ground until, at last, my arms were pinned behind me, Alex’s knee ground in my back, and one side of my face was shoved into the dirt.

  “I’m gonna tell your mom to stop feeding you!” I laughed, gasping for air.

  “And I’m going to tell Alaric to start.” There was a smile to his voice.

  I groaned as I tried to move, but his grip around my wrists only tightened.

  He leaned closer, his breath hot and quick from exertion. “Say it,” he panted.

  I made a face and he chuckled, tickling my ear.

  “I’m not letting go till you do,” he said and, to emphasize his point, he ground his knee harder into my back.

  “Okay, fine,” I grunted. “You win.”

  I could almost taste his pleasure.

  “Now, that wasn’t so hard”—his lips brushed against my ear—“was it?” He let go of my wrists and removed his knee from my back.

  I rolled over onto my back, slowly recouping my oxygen loss, while Alex knelt beside me. His tanned cheeks were bright pink, his dark hair was a curled disaster, and the green in his eyes was so radiant it caught me off guard.

  He smiled, and my breath stuck somewhere in my throat. I’d never seen him smile like that before. It was soft and gentle and went beyond his lips, as if drawing every piece of him with it, making me suddenly self-conscious.

  I pushed myself to a sitting position and glanced away.

  “There’s dirt on your cheek.” He sounded thoroughly amused.

  I glared at him and wiped my face on my shirt.

  He grinned. “You missed a spot.” He reached out and brushed his fingers along my cheekbone.

  My insides filled with a thousand butterflies.

  His fingertips lingered there and, after a long moment, he pulled his hand away. “There, that’s better.”

  That smile had returned, and this time something warm began overtaking my butterflies.

  What is wrong with me?

  Uncomfortable, I crawled to my feet and wiped my hair from my face. He didn’t move, but I felt him watching me.

  “Any idea what time it is?” I asked.

  Alex stood and dusted his jeans. “Probably time for us to head back.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but he almost sounded disappointed.

  Two birds chirped overhead, fluttering through the air and dancing around each other before darting into a tree.

  I faced him. His features had turned guarded and withdrawn, which had been common for him lately. I didn’t like it, either. “You walk in front.”

  He smiled, but it failed to touch his eyes. At last, he raked a hand through his dark hair and led the way back.

  The breeze rustled through the fields as we walked back to his house, and neither of us spoke. It was a strange silence, too, heavy and apprehensive, as if there were a thousand words just waiting to be said but rendered silent by some invisible barrier.

  Why was the wall there? Who had built it?

  And, more importantly, where was I when it had happened?

  His house came in view and he paused. He didn’t turn to face me; he just stared absently at his home as the wind ruffled the hair around his face.

  He wasn’t a little boy anymore. The softness in his face was growing sharper and more defined, and where he’d once been skinny and hollow, rounded muscles were beginning to shape his clothing.

  When had that happened?

  “You okay?” I whispered.

  He blinked and looked at me.

  For a split second, I saw everything. The pain, the struggle, the torment and sorrow—all of it lay bare before me. It was gone as fast as it had come, though, and he looked back at his house with a sigh.

  “Your dad’s here,” was all he said, and he walked on, away from me.

  Chapter 8

  Blood Ants

  When I woke the next morning, I could still smell the grasses and pine. I could still feel the sun on my skin, feel the breeze in the air, and I could still see Alex’s beautiful face before me.

  My chest ached.

  It was a memory I’d forgotten, one that had happened years ago sometime right before he had left, and it was strange that I should remember it now. Stranger still that I saw it differently, understood things now that I hadn’t understood back then.

  That his distance had been a result of his guilt. That his torture had been a result of his lies, that his silence had been a result of this life.

  And that I had loved him even then without knowing it.

  At this rate, how could I ever expect to move on? Even my dreams wouldn’t let go.

  “Good morning.” Rhea peeked her head in, smiling. “Sleep w
ell?”

  I yawned and stretched my arms.

  “I’ve a note for you,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  Curious, I took the small, folded paper from her hands. She glanced at my hands and then looked back at me, confused. “I’d expected to see cuts on your fingers,” she said.

  “Dant—” I yawned “—on.”

  “Ah! Well, I’m glad someone healed them for you.” Her voice turned serious and empathetic. “I’m so sorry about what happened. Your father told me.”

  Dad. “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Trying to talk sense into your grandfather. He wanted to see you last night, but the king forbade it.”

  Of course he did.

  “Is Dad talking to him about Fleck?”

  She nodded. “Your father trusts King Darius with Fleck’s welfare as much as you do.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was comforting or frightening.

  Rhea placed a dry hand over mine—her hands were always dry, and had turned more so with the cold weather. “Your father is a good man. He’s doing everything he can for Fleck.”

  “Where’s Fleck?” I asked.

  “Still in his room surrounded by a small army. Try not to worry too much, yet. The king won’t act until the festival is over and until then, Fleck will most likely remain in his room. There’s still time.” She squeezed my hand.

  Time.

  Time was the hope of the helpless.

  She stood, then. “Speaking of time, best open that.” She gestured toward my note. “I believe it’s time sensitive.” She winked as she smiled, and left.

  I glanced down at the paper in my hands. It was stiff and sealed in red wax with a “P” stamped into it. Curious, I lifted the wax and unfolded it.

  Daria—

  I hope you do not find this untoward, but I am anxious to see you again. I am going for a ride at half-past eight and would be honored by your company. If you’re free and would care to join me, I’ll be waiting in the empty stable in back.

  —Danton

  Riding.

  Just the thought of it excited me.

  But it was with Danton.

  Thinking about spending time with him after last night’s dream made me feel…confused.

  This will help you get over him.

  But that meant I’d be using Danton.

  You aren’t using him. You like him.

  Did I?

  Either way, it wasn’t like Danton had asked me out on a date or anything. He was just asking me to ride, and he had clearly been concerned about coming on too strong.

  I glanced at the clock. It was ten after already.

  I jumped from my bed, threw on my leathers, ran my hands through my hair, and bolted to my door, pausing at my mirror.

  I looked like I’d just woken up.

  You did just wake up.

  With a grunt, I threw open my door and ran down the hall toward Fleck. I needed to check on him, see that he was all right. When I reached his tower, a new set of guards stood at the entrance. Their eyes settled on me as I approached.

  “This tower is off-limits,” one of them said. “King’s—”

  “—orders,” I finished. “Yeah, I know.”

  I reached out with my senses, past the irritated guards, up the empty stairwell. Fleck was there, comfortable and sleepy.

  But he was there, and I breathed a little easier.

  “If you already know,” sneered the other guard, “then why are you here?”

  “No reason,” I said, and hurried off.

  I ran all the way to the stables, but once they were in view, I slowed to a walking pace. Danton didn’t need to know I’d just woken up, or worse he’d think I was really that eager to see him. A clock on one of the towers said 8:28 a.m.

  I walked into the stables; it was quiet and cold.

  He said he’d be waiting in back, in the empty one.

  I walked past the horses, all the way until I reached the very last, empty stable, and I walked inside. There was a horse in the stable beside me, munching away on what remained of his feed.

  Strange that Danton would have me meet him here. Maybe he didn’t want anyone seeing us…

  The wooden floor above me groaned, and before I could react, a mountain of hay fell on top of me, followed by high-pitched giggling.

  I stumbled through the hay as it snagged and tore at my hair and clothes, itching and scraping, but that was the least of my worries. Fat red ants were everywhere. They crawled all over my skin, my face, and they bit hard.

  “Whatever could the princess be doing in the stables at this hour?” Isla asked in a very innocent tone. “We aren’t…meeting someone, are we?” Her dark eyes filled with rancorous delight.

  I forgot the stinging on my skin, and my body shook with rage. “You.” I lunged at her but tripped over a pile of hay and fell, face first. The girls with Isla laughed.

  Isla gazed at me with mock sympathy. “I feel I should warn you about the blood ants. They leave nasty rashes that last for weeks.” She shook her head and tsk-tsk-tsked. “Such unfortunate timing.” She sighed, and then smiled. “See you tonight at the dance.”

  The three of them disappeared as more and more bites burned my arms.

  I brushed them off, but it was no use. There were already little pink welts erupting on my hands and wrists. No telling what my arms and legs looked like beneath my leathers.

  Danton had never written a note; it had been Isla.

  I kicked a plank of wood on the next stable, and the horse inside whinnied and backed away from his trough.

  “Now, is that any way to say good morning to a horse?” Thad’s voice sounded nearby. He stood near the stable entrance, leaning against a wall with a smirk, and Egan was bounding toward me.

  “What are you doing here?” I growled.

  He arched a brow and pulled the grass from his lips. “Let’s just say I saw three pretentious beauty queens running from stables, and I was…a little concerned.”

  I turned from him, and Egan skidded to a stop. He dropped his nose and whimpered, pushing at the ground—the ants—that had fallen from my arms, and then backed away with his tail between his legs.

  “Big baby,” I said, and went back to picking the hay out of my hair. I hurt everywhere and my skin itched so badly it burned, but every time I scratched it, the welts spread.

  “By the way”—Thad stood closer, now—“what are you doing back here, standing in the feed stores, er, what were the feed stores?”

  I winced, playing tug of war with a piece of hay over my hair. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Trying to make yourself unrecognizable?”

  I glowered. “If you’re gonna stand there and make fun of me, you can leave.”

  He folded his arms and stood firm while Egan sat at his feet. Leaving seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

  “Fine!” I said. “Those pretentious beauty queens tricked me into meeting them here, and then a pile of bug-infested hay fell on top of me.”

  The grass in Thad’s mouth stopped rolling, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t keep his smile from coming. “Isla, Isla, Isla,” he said to himself. “I’m impressed.”

  I narrowed my eyes and started walking away from him.

  “Whoa, there, Rook.” He grabbed my arm. “You can’t go outside looking like that.”

  “Well, I’m not staying in here with you all day.”

  He beamed. “You’re right. You could never be that lucky.”

  I snorted and he laughed.

  “Oh, come on. Admit it.” He gestured to me. “It’s pretty funny.”

  I folded my arms. “You’re not the one—” a bug bit me, and I slapped it “—covered in hay and ant bites.”

  “True.” He pushed himself from the railing and stepped closer to me. “That was pretty nasty, luring you back here to drop blood ants all over you, but you do realize what this means, don’t you?”

  “That I’m going to kill her?�
��

  “It means,” he said, “that the great and indomitable Isla actually feels threatened.”

  That was it? That was his big reveal? “Seriously?” I made sure my voice sounded as peeved as I felt.

  “Rook!” He grabbed my shoulders and squeezed, his eyes full of pride. “It’s a huge compliment! I mean, take me, for instance.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “My pranks are reserved for those worthy enough to appreciate their beauty,” he said. “Those important enough that I can inflict an impressive amount of damage.”

  “So, what you’re saying is I’m not worthy or important?”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m saving my best prank for you, yet.” He winked.

  I made a face at him then winced as another ant bit me.

  Thad backed away, eyeing me thoughtfully while scratching his neck. “Yeah, I sorta forgot those bloody ants like to hang out in the feed here.”

  “Can you do anything about this?” I gestured to my itchy self.

  The grass rolled in his mouth. “I can help the itching but, uh, you might want to wear long sleeves tonight.”

  Great.

  The air pulsed from his hands and wrapped around me like a cool, damp cloth. The itching faded until it was almost gone.

  My hands were still red and splotchy and I had the distinct feeling that I didn’t want to see my face.

  “Here.” Thad wound out of his cloak and threw it at me. “Do us both a favor and wear that in public until the swelling fades.”

  I shrugged into his cloak.

  “The hood,” he encouraged.

  It really was that bad. I tugged the hood over my head, and Thad looked pleased. “Much better,” he said. “So much for a happy birthday, eh?”

  Happy birthday?

  Oh, right. Today was my birthday. I’d almost forgotten.

  We stepped out into the cold morning air with Egan at my heels. My bites burned a little, but whatever Thad had done had helped tremendously. The courtyard was unusually busy this morning. People strolled by, smiling and chatting with each other, their excitement lingering in the air like sweet perfume. The dance was tonight; they were all talking about it.

  And I was going to look like I’d run through a beehive.