by Tricia Owens
A Love Like Fire
By
Tricia Owens
Copyright
©2018 Tricia Owens
All rights reserved.
An altered version of this book was previously published under the title The Sorcerer’s Betrayal.
Contents
The Spark
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
The Ember
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
The Flame…
Chapter Seven
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Acknowledgements
Read more from Tricia Owens
The Spark
Chapter One
"Caledon, catch!"
The apple sailed through the air and landed perfectly on the end of a dagger held by the blond-haired mercenary. With a wink, Caledon inclined his head at the girl beside the fruit cart who’d thrown it.
"Many thanks, Mistress Alena. Your fruits are as pretty and luscious as ever."
She blushed, causing the freckles on her face stand out in sharp relief. Caledon took a bite of the apple and sauntered over to her.
"Treat your man to a feast at one of the inns tonight, love,” he told her as he pressed three coins into her palm. “You two deserve a nice night out. I doubt you’ve done so for a while, hmm?"
"Oh, Caledon, you don't need― "
He curled her fingers over the coin. "Sorry, love. Can't take them back. They’re yours, now."
The red-haired girl colored again but nodded shyly. "Thank you, Caledon. You're a sweetie."
"Why are the ladies always telling you that?"
Caledon rolled his eyes at the familiar voice, prompting Alena to giggle. Throwing a last wink at her, he turned to face the newcomer. A tall, lanky man with dirty blond hair and friendly brown eyes stood grinning at him from the middle of the street. Like Caledon, he was dressed in dark shades of clothing. Unlike Caledon, the thin man wore only one weapon: a thin-bladed sword sheathed over his right shoulder.
"They always say that because it's true," Caledon replied matter-of-factly. "Maybe if you possessed half as much charm as I you'd fare the same way, Tye."
Tye laughed, his tobacco-stained teeth spread wide. "Charm and a lack of discrimination, you mean. You best me in both."
Caledon shrugged, matching his friend’s grin. His preferences in bed were no secret. "I appreciate a pretty face. Gender is beside the point."
"Hmm. So I suppose you'd be interested in that walking bit of sweetmeat."
Caledon followed his friend's knowing gaze to a tavern several yards away. Stepping from its doors was a raven-haired creature of such unexpected beauty that Caledon forgot to blink.
"By the gods," he breathed, his gaze riveted to the mysterious young man. Shoulder-length black hair framed a face boasting skin so pale and alabaster smooth that it could only indicate a life spent indoors, which meant wealth or education—likely both and neither of which appeared much around these parts. The stranger's high, graceful cheekbones were almost exotic.
And his eyes...Caledon felt his body stir. Even from a distance, he could see that the stranger possessed striking gray eyes the color of storm clouds and rain.
"Amazing,” he murmured, unable to look away while the man paused to rub a pale hand across his brow. “Who is he?"
Tye laughed, stepping beside Caledon to join him in his study of the stranger. "He arrived in Rhiad yesterday morning, before you came back. He’s recruiting men for a small army for his father. Seems there's a land dispute which needs a few swords to settle. The usual." He elbowed his friend meaningfully. "I spoke with him earlier this afternoon. He's even more breathtaking up close. You should meet him."
"Meeting him was never in question," Caledon replied distractedly as he watched the stranger cross the street and enter the mercenary’s favorite tavern. "What’s his name?"
"Hadrian."
~~~~~
The Bell and Buckle was cozy and unusually sunny. The tavern possessed more windows than any other building in town: four, to be exact―two on either side of the front door and one in each of the side walls. Glass was hardly cheap to come by, but the owner’s brother worked with the material by trade. When Caledon sat at the bar stretched across the back of the room, he could almost imagine himself outdoors. Since he spent the majority of his waking hours either working in the pitch black of night or lurking about in the shadows of the seediest places imaginable, when his time was his own, he sought the light. He wanted to cleanse himself, if only for a little while, of the darkness.
Today, the B&B was his favorite tavern for another reason. It was where his quarry had gone. Having followed the dark-haired stranger inside, Caledon now lounged at the bar, surreptitiously watching the other man from over the rim of a mug full of foamy ale.
Gods, but when had anyone walked into Rhiad looking like this one did? Caledon traveled extensively as his jobs warranted, but he consistently ended up lurking in places where dirt was the cosmetic of choice and baths were few and far between. Caledon had grown accustomed to filthy faces and questionable hygiene. Seeing someone like this stranger, with his clean garments and well-groomed appearance, was a gift in and of itself.
"You takin' a bite of what he's offerin', friend?"
Caledon nearly choked on his ale, quickly wiping at his chin. He turned on the stool and regarded the barkeep with a cocked brow. "I assume that was deliberate, Rankin. Are you trying to make me waste good ale by spilling it all over myself?"
The owner of the Bell and Buckle shrugged innocently. "Just means you gotta buy more." He picked up a dirty rag, moved it around in his hands until he found a patch that wasn't as dark as the rest, and used it to wipe out a mug. He nodded at the stranger in the corner, whom nearly everyone in the tavern was staring at with varying degrees of surreptitiousness. "You goin' to talk to him? Heard he's lookin' to hire."
"Mmm," Caledon murmured noncommittally, spinning around to regard the man in question again. "Who's he talked to so far?"
"Everyone. Doesn't seem to care 'bout skill or price. Seems like he just wants bodies. He'd probably want yours."
Caledon smirked at the innuendo. "Never were one for subtleties, were you, Rank?"
The barkeep snorted. "Like you weren't thinkin' the same thing when you followed him in here."
Caledon chuckled. Fair. He did have a reputation. It wasn't something he was about to change, either. He lived to live. That meant enjoying the more pleasant aspects of life as often as possible to counteract the grimmer ones.
It was an attitude he had adopted long ago. Killing people for a living wasn't the most heartening of occupations. He found himself in unsavory positions and situations most days of the week. Sometimes, it took more ale and sex than was probably healthy to make himself forget what he had committed for a bag of coin. He possessed a conscience somewhere deep down. He just preferred not to face it.
Someone like this stranger was the perfect distraction.
"Gonna make yourself available to 'im?" Rankin asked with a checkered grin as Caledon slid off the stool.
Caledon threw a cocky smirk over his shoulder. "In every way possible, my friend."
~~~~~
Hadrian didn't much care for this place. Not just this tavern, which reeked of sweat and old ale, but the entire town of Rhiad. This was why he didn’t willingly leave the island of Shard's Point. Why should he, when this was all there was to look forward to?
He took a tentativ
e sip of his ale and suppressed a grimace. Was his father punishing him for something? Is that why Hadrian had been chosen for this task when any member of the Order could have accomplished the same? Hadrian wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. Since he could remember, his life had consisted of him attempting not to displease his father and inevitably failing. Somewhere, somehow, he had done something wrong yet again. Now he was trapped here with what must surely be the scum of the land, collected for his perusal.
Hadrian rubbed at his forehead, where a headache was growing, as he recalled the men he had encountered during this mission. They had all been killers, and most were proud of it. Had Hadrian been given the choice, he never would have crossed paths with any of them, much less sought them out for their services.
Why his father needed to employ those types of men he had no idea, nor would he ask. Being the great Gavedon ni Leyanon's son didn’t mean Hadrian was allowed insight into the man's mind. He was as much a stranger to his father's inclinations as the rest of the members of the Order. Every day he was reminded of that fact as Gavedon's eyes looked past Hadrian as though he didn't exist...
He looked up as the chair on the other side of his table slid away from the edge. A man's booted foot had pulled it back and now rested upon its seat. Hadrian's gaze traveled up the muscled leg clothed in worn, black breeches. Daggers were strapped on either side of the man's thigh and another one hung at his waist. The strap of a sheath ran across the front of the man's dark tunic, drawing the fabric tight over a broad chest. Hadrian could see the smooth hilt of a sword peeking over the man's left shoulder. Another mercenary. A well-armed one, at that.
Then his eyes reached the man's face and Hadrian at once forgot his dislike of Rhiad.
"I've heard you're looking to hire a few swords," the man said in a lazy drawl. His voice was deep and masculine, which wasn’t a surprise. What was surprising was that it carried a slight lilt, as though he and amusement were fond companions.
Something fluttered in Hadrian's stomach. He didn't understand the sudden tightness in his chest that made it difficult to draw breath or why his palms grew damp. The man before him was perhaps half a dozen years or more older than he. The tiny lines around his bright blue eyes spoke of an experience far beyond Hadrian. He was well traveled; Hadrian surmised as much from the deeply tanned skin and the straw-colored hair that held pale strands of sunlight. He had a strong, square face that Hadrian sensed could look frighteningly dangerous should the moment warrant it. But right now, the man was grinning at him with wide white teeth that looked even brighter set within his sun-kissed face.
Hadrian realized he was staring. He felt heat steal into his cheeks and that only made the man's smile widen further. This man knows how handsome he is, Hadrian thought as he hastily dropped his gaze. Even more worrisome, the man’s confidence blazed from him like the rays of the sun. Hadrian might not have possessed much experience dealing with the outside world, but even he recognized someone to whom charm came easily. Conscious of his own acute lack of social skills, he had learned to be wary of such people.
"Are you a mercenary?" Hadrian asked him as calmly as he could. He wanted to wipe his sweating palms against his breeches but feared it would reveal too much to the man. Those steady blue eyes looked as sharp as his blades.
"For a price," the man replied.
"The very definition of a mercenary, is it not?" Hadrian said, glancing up at him. The man was still smiling and watching Hadrian with undisguised curiosity. Cursing his fair skin that betrayed too much, Hadrian shrugged. "Money isn’t an issue."
"Money is always an issue." The booted foot lifted from the chair. "May I sit?"
The prospect of having the man join him was both daunting and exciting. Hadrian nodded, trying to appear unaffected. He knew he failed by the amusement which bloomed openly over the mercenary's face as he lowered himself into the chair. He leaned both forearms on the table between them. He had cut off the sleeves of his tunic just above his elbows, allowing Hadrian to see the muscles of his forearms flex beneath their light dusting of golden hair. Hadrian quickly looked away.
"Thought you’d come for me sooner," the man said. “I know you want me.”
Hadrian jerked back in his chair, blushing fiercely. "What?!"
"You need men for your father's army, don't you?" The mercenary’s lips twitched as though he were trying to hold back laughter. "That means I’m someone you want."
Hadrian was convinced he was being played with. But rather than tell the man to leave, he said, "If you're willing, then yes, I wish to hire you. My father needs every available mercenary in Rhiad."
The other man spread his palms over the table, and Hadrian experienced a dizzying fantasy of lying beneath those broad palms. "What is it you're hiring for, exactly?"
Hadrian shook the madness out of his head to focus on the question. What am I hiring for? I have no idea.
Aloud, he said, "My father owns a great deal of land in northern Jeynesa. It's been in his family since beyond memory, passed to the eldest son of each generation. However, an illegitimate son has surfaced to contest my father's claim." Hadrian leaned forward again, trying to appear concerned. "My father has been facing threats of violence and he fears fighting. He sent me here to gather enough mercenaries to form an opposing force that he hopes will deter any actual confrontation. Therefore, I need men like you."
The spiel, given to him to by Gavedon, memorized, and spoken by Hadrian numerous times that day, suddenly sounded painfully false as he uttered them to this mercenary. Maybe it was because the blue eyes that watched him as he spoke didn't blink. Hadrian sensed that this man wasn't a fool. It made him add, "My father will be here in a fortnight to explain everything. You may decide then whether you wish to remain in his employ. I don't particularly care if you don't trust me. It’s his money and his army."
Hadrian was taking a risk. He wasn't supposed to offer the option to refuse. Gavedon had impressed upon Hadrian the importance―no, the necessity―of ensuring that every mercenary in the port town met with him.
But Hadrian was unnerved by this mercenary's confidence. This man was different from the others Hadrian had already spoken to who had projected varying degrees of danger and recklessness. This man's threat was tempered by an intriguing playfulness that Hadrian wasn’t sure how to counter.
"You're a bit swift to jump to conclusions," the mercenary said with a laugh. It was an easy laugh that Hadrian sensed came often. Some of his tenseness fled at the light sound. "I never said I don't trust you. I simply don't know you. Yet," he added with a grin. "My name is Caledon ni Agthon. At your service. Potentially."
Hadrian found it disconcerting that the man could look so open and friendly when he was obviously a paid killer. Still, Hadrian felt himself relaxing. "Hadrian. My name is Hadrian."
Gavedon had provided him with a false family name, but he was reluctant to pass the lie along to Caledon. Fortunately, Caledon didn’t seem to mind the lack for now.
The mercenary smiled with genuine warmth. "Forgive me if it’s my turn to jump to conclusions, Hadrian, but I'd wager you don't venture into the likes of Rhiad very often, do you?"
Hadrian nodded, intending to play up his role as the spoiled, sheltered son of a wealthy land owner. It wasn’t much of a stretch of the truth. "I’m unused to such places, yes. But this is important to my father. To our family."
Caledon's eyes glittered. "Your father must possess great faith in the gods to send such a lamb to the wolves."
Except this lamb is no mere lamb, Hadrian thought. "I suppose my father trusts that the prospect of future wealth under his employ will dissuade anyone from murdering me outright. Better to hold out for a future reward which is sweeter and potentially long-term."
Caledon grinned. "Oh, yes," he murmured, eyes intent on Hadrian. "Anticipation is much sweeter."
Flustered by the interest he saw, Hadrian couldn’t maintain eye contact.
"Ah," Caledon murmured, sounding regre
tful. "No need to be uneasy, love. I’ll admit I’m used to speaking with a blunt tongue. It’s how it is around here. I don’t have much practice with a man like you.”
A man like me. Sheltered, he means. Ignorant. Inexperienced and unable to maintain conversation. Hadrian sighed as he waited for the inevitable disappointment to befall him.
“I’m fumbling a bit,” Caledon said. He sounded sheepish, as though he’d heard Hadrian’s sigh. “I swear I do know my way around…” He trailed off. “You must think me a green boy.”
His embarrassment drew Hadrian’s head up.
Caledon leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Believe it or not, I'm a better man than I’ve presented so far. You’ve no need to be afraid of me."
“I’m not afraid of you,” Hadrian said honestly. I should be, but I’m not.
“I hope you’re telling me the truth. My day would be ruined otherwise, which would be a shame. It’s currently the loveliest I’ve had in months.”
Charmer, Hadrian thought, but it wasn’t followed by resentment or anxiety. He could feel himself thawing toward the other man. Though the voice of experience warned him that opening to another person was inviting punishment and pain, he closed his ears to the advice because behind the broad, blunt masculinity of Caledon the Mercenary he sensed another man.
“Today is a day like any other,” Hadrian said. “Your days must be tedious if this is one you consider lovely.”
“It’s all in the company you keep. I’ll gladly choose a stormy day with a handsome face to gaze upon over a hundred sunny days spent all by my lonesome.”
“Then you’re lonely,” Hadrian blurted with surprise.
Caledon said softly, “Aren’t we all?”
Hadrian shifted in his chair as warmth spread through him. He wished the other man were ugly or rude or anything other than what he was. But Caledon was handsome and charming and seemed genuinely interested in him...Would it hurt to indulge in the man's attention?
Gavedon's face rose in his mind.
Yes, it would hurt.