A Kiss of Fire

by Jacquelyn Frank

  Ariana had sighed and rubbed at the ache in her temples. She was exhausted. She needed to eat and to sleep.

  “Dendri, go home to your wife and child. I am going to my rooms. I will speak to you both when I am better rested,” she had said to Mason and Justin.

  “Of course,” they had both agreed.

  That had been weeks ago…and still she felt as tired now as she had then. No amount of rest was helping. Every time she closed her eyes she saw a roughly handsome face with nearly black eyes gazing at her with love and passion. And he had loved her. She did not question that. She could question a lot of things, but she could not question the fact that he had believed himself to be in love with her. But that had been a romantic image he had had of her. She was not really what he needed. He needed a woman who would give him heirs and be by his side forever after. Whose loyalties were not torn between two countries. And her loyalties would be torn. Saren would always be at the core of her heart and now…now she felt an equal kinship for the Kiltian people. She knew them better now, appreciated their strength and fortitude, respected them for all they had done to survive.

  Had she been someone else, she could have found a home in Kilt.

  A home with him.

  Tears, inexplicable, burned into her eyes. She dashed them away with temper. This wasn't her. She didn’t cry. She didn’t moon over men. She didn’t lose focus on what was important.

  What was important?

  Her people. They were important. They should be the only thing that mattered. She had enjoyed her time in the Kiltian court, she was very surprised to realize, enjoyed the simplicity of it and the relaxation of not having to be on point every minute of every day. Of letting someone else take the reins. But now it was time to come back to reality and to focus her attention where it should have been all along.

  Only…focus seemed impossible.

  As hard as she tried she couldn’t clear her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to pay attention for more than two minutes at a time. She had gone into state meetings, met with the Heddah—those leaders of the provinces—and diplomats from trade countries and all she kept doing was losing track of the conversation. Or, in negotiations she found herself acting as the Kiltians would, making suggestions based on all the methods of trade and commerce she had learned there. Not that that was a bad thing. It was serving her well. It allowed her to see solutions to some of their governmental issues that she hadn’t been able to see before. But each time she did this she was brought back to wondering what was happening in Kilt. She was brought back to wondering how he was doing. He should be completely healed by now. What had he done about his brother? Was Lindo keeping watch over him? Keeping him safe?

  Again, frustrated tears burned into her eyes. She had to stop this. She turned around and walked back toward the residences, heading back to her part of the living quarters in the capitol building. She went into her dressing room and found Mariah there hanging some of her gowns after they had been pressed. It had seemed strange, getting used to so much clothing again. The flow of Kiltian garments with their less restrictive cuts and lack of underclothes was something she was surprised to realize she missed. Saren gowns went straight to the floor from snug, empire waists. The had long sleeves in the winter that ended a little past the cuff of the wrist. They wore breast jackets in winter, jackets that buttoned snugly across a woman’s breasts. They wore drawers and chemises and petticoats.

  It all seemed so heavy now. So restricting. Of course, that was the point. The Sarens believed the harder it was to get out of your clothes, the more discretion you would use in whom to undress for.

  A silly idea really. It was not frowned upon to take a lover…but it was frowned upon to take a rapid succession of them…and to bear children out of wedlock. That didn’t mean it didn’t happen, but it did give Sarens a reason to pass judgment on one another. Sarens enjoyed passing judgment on one another. And Gretha had been right about one thing, she would be seen as somehow sullied by the Kiltian ruler. Not that it was general confirmed knowledge that they had become lovers. But it was clearly assumed that he had forced her into his bed.

  “Mariah, I will take a bath,” she said, moving into the bath adjoining her dressing room. Mariah immediately set about filling the in-floor tiled tub, the decorative mosaic of tiles depicting a stallion rearing, its beautiful body in silhouette. It reminded her of the strong Kiltian stallion that Sin had taken her out on during their rides in the countryside of Kilt.

  She had noticed Mariah was a bit quieter since their return as well. She wondered why that was.

  “Are you well, Mariah?” she asked.

  Mariah was surprised by the question, clearly. She paused in the action of filling the bath with scented bath oils. At one time she had preferred roses. Now she had found and used one that reminded her of wildflowers.

  “I am fine, my lady. Why do you ask?”

  “You are unusually subdued since our return from Kilt. Or perhaps I am just reflecting my own feelings onto you.”

  Mariah finished pouring the oil then put the stopped back in the bottle. She set it down thoughtfully.

  “Do you miss it a great deal?” she asked her mistress.

  “Not at all,” she lied. “I admit it had some charms, but I much prefer the civilization of home.”

  “And what of him? Do you miss him?”

  Yes. Terribly. Painfully. She missed him more that she wanted to admit to herself, but she admitted it just the same.

  To herself.

  “He was an intelligent, intriguing man. He has left his mark. But I don’t know that I would say I miss him.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” Mariah said quietly.

  That brought Ariana’s attention to her lady maid with surprise.

  “I beg your pardon?” She missed Sin? Had the girl formed some kind of crush on him? Had she longed for him herself?

  The flash of jealousy that burned through her was fierce and brutal. She had to clench her teeth and balled her hands into fists to keep from slapping her maid.

  “I miss him. Georg.”

  Who in hells was Georg? Understanding dawned on her and the rush of relief was embarrassing. “You formed an attachment to a Kiltian man?”

  Mariah nodded. “He was very kind to me. He showed me where everything was. How best to navigate the places and people in the temple. He made certain I felt welcome in spite of my being a foreigner from a country that many had lost kin to during the war.”

  It was strange, but she never thought about the Kiltians being prejudiced against the Sarens. The Sarens had not been the aggressors in the war. It didn’t seem right that the Kiltians should bear ill will toward the Sarens. But everyone had their own perspective. The Kiltians had thought the Sarens selfish for not wanting to share land that clearly was far from being settled and was entirely superfluous to the already large country. A wilderness of fields and forests that they had not needed with anywhere near the desperation the Kiltians had.

  “This Georg…do you love him?”

  Mariah turned pink across the bridge of her freckled nose.

  “I think…perhaps I could. I didn’t have enough time to find out.”

  How selfish she had been, Ariana thought suddenly. She hadn’t even thought to ask Mariah if she had wanted to go home. She had simply assumed. She had forced the girl away from someone she was growing to care for without a second thought to her feelings or his.

  “I’m sorry Mariah. I didn’t even think to ask if you wanted to leave,” Ariana said contritely.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave you, my lady.”

  Her loyalty was touching, but Ariana suspected the girl’s heart was being sorely abused because of it. And after all, wasn’t it the heart that should come first?

  Ariana stilled inside her own skin. She had not put her heart first. She had thought she was doing so by putting her people, whom she loved first, but it was becoming more and more clear to her that it was not what her t
rue heart had wanted.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, my lady, I think you do miss him. I think you miss him a great deal more than you are letting on.”

  Ariana’s eyes suddenly burned and she had to look away to conceal them from her maid.

  “I admit I miss his strength and his quality of character. He was a far more remarkable man then I ever gave him credit for before this…this journey into Kilt.” She did not call it a kidnapping any longer. She couldn’t view it as such. It had been more like a forced diplomatic mission…where she had learned so much that she had changed her entire perspective about a people she had so sorely misunderstood.

  “And as a lover? You do not miss him at all?” Mariah persisted.

  Again she looked away from Mariah’s too keen sight. She thought of Sin’s hands on her body, his mouth on her skin. She thought of his touch invading every corner of her body so erotically she had quickly grown addicted. She remembered the feel of him hard inside of her and her body responded to the memory. She flushed hot all over.

  “I…” She couldn’t make herself deny him again. Not when she was standing there warmed by the memory of his passion. She could no longer lie to herself or to others. “I do miss him,” she admitted at last, her throat aching. “More than words can say.”

  “Tch,” Mariah clucked consolingly as she crossed the room and took her mistress into her arms. Mariah’s compassion acted like a valve release and tears suddenly began to flow down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know what’s the matter with me!” she cried into the other woman’s ear. “I shouldn’t feel this way, but I can’t seem to make myself stop.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t try so hard to deny it,” Mariah said wisely. “Perhaps by admitting it will ease the ache of it.”

  “Perhaps,” Ariana said, pulling away from Mariah and wiping her eyes.

  “Come. Have your bath. It will make you feel better.”

  It didn’t make her feel better. Instead she found herself weeping into the soapy bubbles of her bathwater. She was frustrated with herself for doing so. There was nothing to be done about it. Crying wasn't going to help matters. She was simply not the sort to sit about crying “woe is me”. She took charge of her feelings. Took charge of her life. The trouble was, she didn’t know how to do that just then. She had no solution.

  Ariana arose from her bath and stepped out onto the tiled floor and suddenly, inexplicably, the world tilted off its axis and she had to grab for Mariah to keep from falling. Mariah guided her weight until she was sitting on the cold tiled floor. She felt sick to her stomach.

  “Should I fetch a doctor?” Mariah asked worriedly.

  “No. I’ll be all right. I just need a minute. I stood up too fast is all.”

  Mariah bit her lip, then she ventured, “You have not had your moon’s cycle since we left Kilt.”

  Ariana felt her heart stop in her chest. Her breathing froze. She couldn’t possibly mean…?

  It was possible, she realized with dread. While in Kilt she had not had access to her usual methods of preventing conception. She could very easily be carrying Sin’s child.

  Oh no! That would make everything so much worse than it already was! Perhaps the public could accept a bastard child, but the bastard child of such a hated man? Her child would grow up vilified. She did not want that. She could not have that.

  That meant one of two things must be done. She must either marry and have someone claim Sin’s child as their own…or she could rid herself of the child by contacting a midwife who knew how to do such things.

  Both choices made her sick. She could not stomach the idea of marrying anyone…and the thought of destroying a child of Sin’s was horrific.

  There was a third option. She could give birth to the child then let it live its life in Kilt where it would not be so hated. It would be heir to a great kingdom if it was a male child…and if it was a female it would be doted on by its father. Sin would love a girl just as much as he would love a boy.

  But that would mean living apart from her child for all the rest of her days. Letting a child grow up without a mother…unless Sin married another and that woman took the child in as her own.

  Again there was that white-hot flare of jealousy. Another woman in Sin’s arms? Another woman raising her child? It was not to be borne. It could not be tolerated.

  Yet she had no rights to Sin. No right to keep him from finding another woman. She had no rights at all.

  “No. It is merely stress,” Ariana said aloud for Mariah. “My cycle is sensitive to the stresses in my life.”

  Mariah looked dubious but instead she said, “You must be right.”

  They both knew that no amount of kidding themselves would work if indeed it were true.

  Ariana got to her feet after a minute and with Mariah’s help made it to her dressing room. She sat before her vanity and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was wet, the curls lying lankly against her chest and collarbone. Her face was pale and thin, her eyes looking too large for her head. She felt awkward in her own body and now that the idea of being pregnant had entered her head, she couldn’t think of anything else.

  She kept thinking about how wonderful it would be to carry and then hold Sin’s child. She had never had the urge to be a mother before this, so the desire took her by surprise. Then it began to make an incredible impact on her that it wasn’t just any child that was inspiring her. It was Sin’s child. The baby they had created out of their…love? Was it love? Did she love Sin?

  She couldn’t tell. She had never been in love before. Had never been driven to make choices based on feelings alone. She had always controlled her life with a cool, thoughtful head. She did not give in to passionate emotions.

  But she had given in to her passion with Sin. He had made her see what it was they could have together. But she had turned her back on it. On him. Would he ever forgive her for that?

  What did his forgiveness matter? she asked herself angrily. She would never see him again. Why should she care if he forgave her for leaving?

  There was a sudden rapping at the door. Hurried and frantic. Mariah hurried to answer it and a page stepped inside the room.

  “My lady, Triumvir Hittite and Triumvir Felone want to see you right away. There is a delegation from Kilt just arrived!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ariana leapt up out of her chair, then had to grip the edge of her vanity to steady herself as the room spun around her once more. She righted herself, swallowing down the nausea that followed hot on its heels.

  “Is it him?” she demanded to know.

  “Who?” the page asked dumbly.

  “Is it Raja Sin?” she all but shouted at him.

  “I-I don’t know my lady. I was just sent to tell you—“

  “Go. Tell them I am on my way. I just need a minute.” This last she whispered to herself. The page left the room with all due haste and Mariah hurried to her side.

  “I must get dressed. Quickly. Whatever gown is handy. No! Wait. The blue one. The midnight blue satin. Then come dress my hair. Quickly!”

  Ariana had to sit down, her heart was thundering so hard in her chest. What was he doing coming to her like this? Felone and Hittite were well within their rights to see him taken captive and thrown in jail for his crimes against their leader. She did not want that. She had been unable to adequately described the progression she had gone through from captive to lover to Jutsin and Mason. All they knew was that she held no ill will toward Sin and she would not see their associations with Kilt tarnished by this one unfortunate incident. Trade and peace between them was paramount. She would not have Sin or the Kiltian people punished for what had been a very punishable offense.

  Ariana arose from her seat only briefly to dress herself, then reseated herself so Mariah could put up her hair.

  “Quickly!” she scolded the girl, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. She wanted to run to him. To fly down these halls and into his arms again. But s
he could not do that. She must maintain her decorum. She must see what it was that he wanted.

  All she could think of was: Can he ever forgive me?

  Mariah had barely tucked the last pin in her hair before she was up and hurrying down the hallway. The page had neglected to say where they were, but she suspected they would be in the capitol parlor, the room in which they entertained heads of state from all walks of life when not at a formal ball or dinner. She reached the doorway to the parlor, stopped herself and took a deep breath. Then, as gracefully and composed as she could be, she swept into the parlor.

  The first people she saw was Jutsin and Mason. Both men were facing the entrance she had come in by. The entire Kiltian delegation was between them, their backs to her entrance. Her gaze swept over the heights and shoulders of the delegation and in an instant she knew he wasn’t there.

  Her disappointment was crushing. So much so she could barely breathe as Jutsin caught sight of her.

  “Ah. Here she is,” he said, moving through the delegates and reaching to take her hand. The Kiltians all turned and she saw their faces. She recognized every single one of them. Most notably was Lindo. The enigmatic Jadoc shaman was never far from Sin’s side and she took heart in that fact. If he was there, then Sin was not too far away. Or, she realized, that was what she hoped.

  “Triumvir Colla,” Lindo greeted her with a very respectful bow of his head and shoulders. It was such a formal greeting, as though those weeks in Kilt had never happened for her.

  But they had happened.

  “Lindo,” she returned the greeting. She had never discovered what his formal title was.

  “Envoy Lindo,” he supplied for her. He did not smile, but his eyes were light with kindness and sympathy.

  “Envoy, what brings you here to us?” she asked. Please let it be that he wants me still. Even though there is no hope for it, let it be that he wants me.

  “I come with a formal request from Raja Sin.” Here Lindo hesitated as he shifted his glance between all three triumvirs. “He wishes to pay court to Triumvir Colla publicly and properly.”