A Kiss of Fire

by Jacquelyn Frank

  They reached the top of the path and she found they were at a mine. It was teeming with workers covered in dirt and grime, yelling and shouting instructions and information.

  “The villages house the mine workers,” he told her over the noise.

  “Is that why they are still living in such cramped quarters when there is so much new land up for grabs?”

  “Some are afraid to gamble on becoming successful farmers. Others are just set in their ways. They can’t envision another way of living they are so used to this one. And, believe it or not, this village has been almost half emptied since we opened up the claims.”

  “This is half emptied?” she asked, appalled.

  What had it been like filled to the brim with Kiltians? She couldn’t imagine. Or perhaps she could. She could suddenly see the desperate circumstances that had driven the Kiltians into war.

  She did not want to empathize with her enemy, but she couldn’t help it. She was not cold-hearted enough to ignore what she was seeing and dismiss it as unimportant.

  He turned the horse and they headed back down the mountain pass.

  “This was what you wanted to show me?” she said.

  He didn’t reply. The answer was self-evident.

  He headed back away from the village. ”And, that was one of the more spread out villages,” he said softly. There are others far more cramped then that.”

  “And we are crossing the border of old Kilt now?” she asked as the rode out of the mountains and toward the open wilderness. There were many settlers’ cottages within sight as they went. This area had been the first to fill up. It was close enough to the mines so some family members could work the mines while others worked the lands.

  “Yes,” he said. “It was like pressing your face up against the glass of a storefront window. We could see the open land, but we could not cross the border…not until the war.”

  He was silent again for a little while as they rode out over the sprawling fields.

  “I moved the temple to a prime piece of acreage, near a water source, the land flat and easy to build on. I claimed forty acres for the temple and the city that is being built around it. One day our city will be as grand as your Capitol City. I have vowed that to myself.”

  “You long to be so civilized?” she asked.

  “We are civilized. It was just that…the overcrowding made for an aura of desperation and it was easy to get on each other’s nerves.”

  “I can imagine. I can only wonder how you did not kill each other.”

  “Believe me, we had our share of murders and capital crimes. Our system of laws is extremely strict. It had to be. The punishment had to be a good deterrent for future crimes.”

  “What was that punishment?”

  “For many crimes? Death. We did not have room for a prison. Thieves and the like were forced into indentured servitude in the mines. It was not a perfect system, but it worked for the most part.”

  “And now that you have room for a prison?”

  “Perhaps. Why mess with a good system now? I would not want to have the crown being required to feed and house miscreants. It seems more like a reward then a punishment.”

  “I see. But wouldn’t it be better than taking a life?”

  “Why if that life only served to bring evil to the world? A murderer should be given the exact sentence he gave to his victim. Nothing less will do.”

  “That is very cold-blooded.”

  “As is murder.”

  “Then what makes you any better than the killer?”

  “He chose his path. He knew what the punishment was when he decided to commit his crime.”

  “And…you are careful, are you not, to make certain the crime is a true one. That there are no false witnesses?”

  “It is not a perfect system. I have said this. But we do our due diligence. We do our best. My marshals are well trained.”

  “And it is the marshals who pronounce sentence on the criminal?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what keeps the marshal from being corrupt or a bully?” she asked.

  “Again, it is not a perfect system, but we do our best to keep the marshals in check where needed. A man has to prove himself worthy to me before being given an area to marshal.”

  “I see.”

  “How do you manage your wrongdoers?” he asked.

  “Capital punishment is reserved for only the worst offenders. There is prison for the rest. The loss of one’s freedom is no small thing. People will want to avoid that at all costs. Our prisons are not pleasure palaces.”

  Each sentence she spoke reminded them both that she was being kept in a prison. That her freedom was gone, traded for a room in a pleasure palace.

  “You can afford the room to do that,” he said with the shrug of a shoulder.

  “As can you now.”

  “I would much rather give the land to those deserving of it than those undeserving.”

  He kicked the horse into a faster gait and they loped across the fields, leaping over the colorful strings of claims when they appeared. It wasn’t long before they were riding into the courtyard. He brought the horse right to the stable, ignoring the groom who ran out to meet him so he could do so. The groom caught up to him and he handed Ariana down to him. He dismounted immediately after.

  “Brush him down good, Fulvio,” he told the groom, giving the horse an affectionate rub on his muzzle. “Feed him well.”

  “Of course, sire.”

  He took her elbow and this time she let him guide her into the stable. The building was enormous and there was a roomy stall for each horse.

  “Before the horses were packed into corrals. Now they are given their own space.”

  He introduced her to each horse by name and she saw that he, too, was a connoisseur of fine horses. He had many kinds of horses there. He also had many cross breeds from distinctively different lines of horses.

  “This is a Kiltianan dappled combined with a Ferenic bay. The dappling is bay colored and not grey you see.”

  “I do! How pretty she is.”

  “She will have many fine sons.”

  “Who will you breed with her?”

  “The possibilities are endless. I am trying to create my own breed of horses. She is among the first of this cross breeding. I have a fine stallion with similar coloring and the same sleek build. Speed with stoutness. A wonderful combination.”

  “I have four Kiltianan dappled. They pull my carriage.”

  “Really?” He was surprised. “And here I thought you hated all things Kiltian.”

  “I find these beasts easier to bear,” she said primly.

  He laughed at that and she found herself marveling at the sound. She had never heard him laugh like that before. Oh, he’d chuckled here and there, but nothing so carefree as what she was hearing now. It seemed to change him. Made him seem somehow more…approachable.

  “Thank you for showing me your world,” she said softly. “You have opened my eyes to many things. And, while I cannot agree with all of your methods, I do see the desperation that led you to do what you did.”

  “Well, that is some progress I suppose.” He took her hand, feeling her chilled fingers. “Why do you not warm yourself?” he asked her upon feeling them.

  “It takes effort to maintain such constant heat. I can tolerate a little cold.”

  He took both of her hands in his and, very gently he warmed her hands using his power. It was the first time she had seen him use his ability. His control over his fire was flawless. He warmed her perfectly. Not too little and not too much.

  She sighed before she caught herself. Then she snatched her hands away, rubbing her warmed palms down her thighs. He did not take offense to the withdrawal.

  “Come. You will rest. Tonight we take our night’s meal together.”

  “I would rather eat alone,” she said sharply. She had been forgetting herself. Forgetting why she should be on guard against him.

  “Unfortu
nately you do not get to decide this. You will eat with me. Tonight and every night.”

  “Oh! How could I forget for even one moment what an insufferable ass you are!”

  She turned and stormed away from him, marching back into the temple and finding her room unerringly.

  “Well? Open it!” she commanded the guard who was sitting in a chair outside her door.

  He rose and hastened to obey her. She made it clear she was a woman used to having her commands obeyed. She would not come across as meek and passive.

  The door opened and she swept inside. She turned and halted him with a hand on his chest on the other side of the doorway.

  “I would like to be alone. I may have to have my night’s meal with you, but that does not mean you will abide in my room every minute until then.”

  He gave her a slow smile. He picked up the hand on his chest and brought it to his lips. He pressed a kiss in the center of her palm. She jerked her hand back as if she had been burned.

  “You forget. Every minute of every day of your life is mine now to do with what I please. If I wish to stay, then I will stay. If I wish to leave, then I will leave. However, I am open to requests should you decide to ask me…nicely.”

  She openly gaped at him. Of all the nerve! Ask him nicely?

  She smiled then. A sugary, fake smile. She leaned in to him and said, “Please…go fuck yourself.”

  He smiled at her genuinely, humor dancing in his dark eyes. “If I do, you will be made to watch,” he promised her.

  She gasped and turned her back on him. She marched over to the chair before the fire and sat down in it.

  To her surprise, he ordered the door locked and closed…with him on the opposite side.

  Chapter Nine

  Mariah dressed her for night’s meal as properly as she would have done had they been in Saren. Ariana had had a bath and her damp hair had been dressed up in her favored style. What she did not realize was that it was Sin’s favored style for her. The way her curls tumbled perfectly down the back of her neck, some escaping to spill over the paleness of her exposed cleavage, it was divinity.

  He wondered that she didn’t defy him by allowing herself to be dressed down and unattractively. Not that she could be unattractive. In fact, he longed to see her mussed and tumbled and looking as though she had just rolled out of bed.

  His bed.

  The thought made him physically uncomfortable. It took a great deal of effort not to let her arouse him. She was just that stimulating to him. And since the skintight breeches he wore were hard to hide things in, it would become quite obvious the bend of his thoughts. He did not want to come across as any more of a brute than he already had so he studiously avoided any thoughts that would lead him to lose control. But that was hard to do when he walked in the room and she was looking so good.

  For this meal he had decided to eat with her in her rooms. He was not about to introduce her to his brother and the whole family in the main dining hall. As of right then, as far as he knew, they were unaware she was there and definitely unaware of who she was. Only the men who had brought her from Saren knew who she was, and he had sworn them to secrecy. He trusted Lindo of course. And even Hundor and Graf. But Mordol and a few of the others he was not as sure of. He had tried to choose those most trustworthy, but in the end it had come down to whom he had thought would best protect her should they come across foul play during the journey back.

  He had had a small round table set up in her room and it had been set for two. His instructions had been for the place setting to be set side by side, but when he arrived he saw Ariana placing a fork down neatly in position across the table from the other setting.

  She had moved the place setting, putting the table’s distance between them.

  Very well. If that was what made her feel more comfortable, then he would allow it…this time. But in the future he would move it right back to where it belonged. As he walked in the room she lifted her chin, defying him to say something about the place setting. But he did not. He was tempted, but he did not.

  “You look lovely this night,” he said to her, his eyes riding over her slowly. He liked her in Kiltian clothing, but he might have to say he liked her better in the elegance of Saren clothing. The Sarens, as a rule, wore far too much clothing. The men wore shirts and waistcoats and jackets and cravats. Just the idea of a cravat choking off his breathing made him shudder. The women wore floor length dresses, some with long sleeves…and while they displayed the bounty of a woman's breasts with their low square necklines, the layers of chemises, petticoats and drawers and such must be a suffocating weight to carry around all day.

  Ariana wore it well. Hells, she wore everything well. She was wearing one of the more well-shaped blouses the Kiltian women wore, different from the shapeless ones that a woman swam in without benefit of a scarf to tie it close to the body. This blouse was more fitted to her breasts and slender figure. And she had beautiful breasts. The breasts of a young, healthy woman, high and proud and tempting.

  Damn it!

  He walked quickly to the table and sat down, hiding the rampant reaction of his body to the sight of her. She looked at him in disdain because he had not done her the courtesy of seeing her seated before him. Sin cursed himself, but there was nothing he could do about it now. She took her seat. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then the door swung open and in walked two servers bearing trays laden with food. In Saren there were footmen and elaborately designed dining tables and all the polite practices that went with them. Here the dishes were left on another table that had been set up to the side of them and the servants left.

  Having gotten himself under control, he stood up and picked up her plate before she could ask any questions or get up for herself.

  “I will serve you,” he said simply.

  “I can serve myself,” she snapped, rising to do just that. But he quelled her with an intense look. He did not mean to threaten her, only to let her know that he was not to be gainsaid.

  He walked to the side table and viewed the array of dishes.

  “I have had the kitchen provide for us a selection of some of my favorite Kiltian dishes. So that you might get to know our favorite foods and the spices we use. We import our spice sand, our grain, and produce from Hellendorn. It is the shortest distance from us…only two days by ship, and allows us to get them relatively fresh. But by next autumn the farms will be producing in earnest and we will not have to import every last potato or onion.”

  “Next autumn? But you have had the land for two autumns.”

  “We gave the Sarens living on the land the entirety of the first winter to move away unmolested. Those by spring who were still there…those too stubborn to leave…we forcibly removed. We allowed the business owners in the towns and villages to stay, but the farms…those were ours.” He began to fill her plate. “We then had to find the grain and seeds with which to grow these first crops. The machinery to do the farming like plows and threshers, and the livestock needed to pull that equipment, such as oxen. Between that and the process of distributing the land in the first place, there was no time for any decent crops to be planted.”

  He turned to her and placed her plate down in front of her. “This annum was the backbreaking work of breaking through sod for the first time. The soil is good, but the sod makes it slow, tough going. We paid many of your farmers to show us how to work the soil, but as you know it can be temperamental if not planted the right way. We will do better this autumn. Our shaman, the Anima—what you would call Padoni—those who can manipulate nature, have to learn how to make things grow in this kind of soil. It does not come overnight.”

  She picked up her fork once he had seated himself with his own full plate before him, and politely waited for him to take his first bite.

  “You needn’t do that,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “Wait for me. If you are hungry you should eat. We do not stand on ceremony here.”

&nb
sp; “Just because I am no longer in Saren does not mean I might forget my manners.”

  “Perhaps you should. Perhaps you need to relax and not be so worried about being judged for your every little action or deed. I will not judge you.”

  “Your judgment, whatever its bent, does not matter to me. I couldn’t care less what you thought of me.” She stabbed at a potato with her fork and popped it into her mouth. He watched her chew and waited. Her eyes widened as the flavor of the potato dish as well as its crispy texture registered on her.

  Though she had been there for several meals already, he had ordered it be simple, bland fare. Baked chicken, plain potatoes. Simple broth. He had designed it that way on purpose so he could share the first flavors of his culture with her. Their use of spices, both delicate and complex, their cooks some of the best in the world, made for extraordinarily delicious cuisine. At least, he thought so. And apparently she did to. She began to taste everything with a measure of eagerness.

  Clearly unable to help herself she said, “This is wonderful!”

  “I thank you. My head cook is the best around. She has a special touch when it comes to food. It will be made even better when our produce is fresher and home grown. Plus, we will have access to fruits and vegetables that normally do not keep well enough for a sea voyage. Now with farms we will have more livestock. Fresh meat. Before this we were left to eating grains and preserved vegetables for most of the winter. Outside of the high mountain goats, there was not much game to be found. Now we can breed our own meat. We brought over many types of farm animals this annum, importing them from all over the world.”

  She smiled at that, “Plus you now have the forests for hunting. They are teeming with game.”