A Promise of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  “Got any bread to dilute this?”

  “Dilute?” Beta Sinta sounds like he’s laughing. There’s definitely a smirk in his voice.

  Kato’s blue eyes dance with humor as he hits me with a dazzling smile that’s almost as bright and sunny as his hair. “Griffin ate it all.”

  I huff. “There’s no need to be so merry about it. Did you abduct me just to starve me?”

  “I was hungry, you were sleeping, and you’re hardly being starved,” Beta Sinta says.

  It’s hard to argue with that around a mouthful of cheese. I swallow and ask, “Why Beta? Why crown your sister Alpha when you’re the one who did all the work?”

  It doesn’t seem like he’s going to answer, so I take another bite of cheese and keep eating until I devour the entire chunk. It turns out goat cheese is edible if you’re really hungry.

  We’re almost to the edge of the woods when he finally speaks. “When I was a boy, royal soldiers used to tear through our tribe, searching our homes for twice the taxes we owed, at times abusing our women, and often taking our men for their endless wars. We collected nothing of value because it would be stolen, and thatched our roofs with simple hellipses grass because half the village would be burned to the ground. We’d cut down fields of the stuff for weaving and thatching. It’s supple yet strong. And abundant. We’d rebuild, over and over again, making everything we could from that bloody grass.”

  He turns, and I see him in profile, his sharp gaze scanning the meadow rolling right up to the forest. He’s probably noting the abundance of hellipses grass. The tough, long stalks are the only thing that really grows here unless there’s shade, a natural water source, or irrigation. It’s all over the north, too, but greener and softer there, like the springtime grass here before it dries and yellows from the heat.

  “One day, my father decided he was done with blind subjugation. He challenged for leadership, won the tribe, and then did the same from village to village until he’d unified a swath of people and land across southern Sinta. Before the royals even noticed, he created an army right under their noses. The next time soldiers came, they only took the taxes we owed, they left our men and women alone, and they didn’t light up a single home.” He pauses to hand me his water gourd, drinking after me before continuing.

  “I know what one decision—one person—can change. But I form and execute plans. I don’t second-guess, and I rarely call myself into question. That’s not all Sinta needs. Our goal isn’t just to dominate, like previous royal families. It’s to rule.”

  Reality douses the spark of interest flickering inside of me. It’s only been a few months. What will his attitude be once the power and wealth sink in? Will the Beta position still satisfy him? And, if it lasts that long, what will his future children’s attitudes be once they start vying for the throne? From what I’ve heard, Alpha Sinta is unwed and too old to bear children anyway. That means Beta Sinta will succeed his sister on the throne, likely sooner rather than later, and then his offspring will come after him. Probably in every sense of the words. “How terribly noble.”

  “Egeria’s warm,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm. “She smiles at people. She has ideas for healing centers and schools. She knows how to comfort widows and orphans. She compensates for what I lack.”

  “Humanity?” I ask snidely, not really meaning it despite my own unfortunate circumstances.

  He shrugs. “In a way.”

  I snort, not having expected him to agree. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.” I know what an utter lack of humanity looks—and feels—like. If he had no humanity, he would have taken the throne for himself. He wouldn’t be interested in showing his sister’s softer face to Sinta, or in ruling instead of dominating. And I’d be unconscious over his horse’s rump.

  That doesn’t mean I like him any better.

  “I’m not trying to scare you, Cat.”

  “So what are you doing?”

  “Explaining. Like all the realms, Sinta was being beaten into the ground by bloodthirsty, selfish royals. Things had to change. I don’t lack humanity. I just do what needs to be done.”

  I frown at the back of Beta Sinta’s tanned neck, noticing a smattering of freckles across it. I could almost agree with that, if “what needs to be done” hadn’t included abducting me.

  * * *

  The ancient forest rises like a sentinel wall, its trees gnarled and old, its canopy thick and high overhead, providing instant relief from the heat. I tilt my head back, breathing the shady air deep into my lungs. “Please say we’re stopping,” I mutter on the exhale.

  “Up ahead,” Beta Sinta answers. “By the stream.”

  For a second, the thought of water—rejuvenating, curative water—distracts me from everything else. “How long will we stop?”

  “Until tomorrow. We need to hunt.”

  “Thank the Gods,” I groan.

  Carver, Flynn, and Kato smother laughs, and I narrow my eyes at them. “You won’t be laughing with my knives in your hearts.”

  They chuckle outright, as if I were joking.

  Flynn stretches his upper body, adjusting his ax. “She talks big, but she’s made of custard.”

  “Fluffy and full of cream?” Kato wiggles blond eyebrows at me.

  Carver grins. “Think she’s sweet, too?”

  My eyes spit fire. “Bite me. You’ll find out.”

  They burst out laughing, the deep, booming sounds driving the birds from the nearby trees. A tremor even ripples up Beta Sinta’s back, and I have the almost uncontrollable urge to sink my teeth into him.

  It takes forever to reach a clearing suitable for making camp. There’s enough shade that the grass is still fragrant and green, and the air smells fresh, like foliage and fertile soil. Beta Sinta’s horse starts grazing before he even dismounts, swinging his leg over the big animal’s neck and sliding easily to the ground. There’s not enough slack in the rope, and it snaps taut, jerking me to the left and chafing my hips.

  I stiffly regain my balance, grumbling a curse that would make Aetos proud.

  Beta Sinta looks up, unexpected humor softening his eyes to a warm silver-gray. “What are you still doing up there? I thought you couldn’t wait to get off the horse.” A teasing smile lifts one corner of his mouth, and my heart thumps hard in my chest. Stupid heart.

  I swivel my head and stare straight ahead. It’s either that or kick him in the teeth.

  I’m seriously considering the kicking option when he reaches up, plucks me off the horse, and sets me down, holding on to my waist while I get my feet under me. My hands land on his biceps for balance, and I gain a whole new appreciation for his battle-hardened physique. The steely strength coiled under my fingers makes me wonder what kind of magic I’ll need to come across to overpower him, what I’ll have to expose him to in order to get away.

  Not that I care.

  His grip on my waist tightens, and a tremor unfurls through me at the subtle pressure of each warm, blunt fingertip. Eyes hooded, darkening, he murmurs, “You’ll recover.”

  Traitorous heat rises in my belly and fans out across my chest. “Dazzle me with your sympathy. Oh wait! You don’t have any. Big, bad Beta Sinta has to hide behind his sister so he won’t scare widows and orphans. How many widows and orphans did you make with your war? Was it worth it, Beta Sinta? How long do you think you’ll rule?”

  His previously warm gaze turns cool and flinty as his hands fall away, leaving my whole midsection suddenly cold. “Longer—now that I have you.”

  His words hit me like a punch, driving the air from my lungs. “I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life as an information slave, getting fried by diplomats’ deceit and sycophants’ lies.” I back up a step, shaking my head. “You can’t use me. I won’t let you.”

  The tightness in his expression eases. “It’s not a question of getti
ng used, Cat. We’ll work together. You’ll see.”

  My mouth gapes. I have no idea what to say to that bit of insanity.

  “Hoi Polloi have never ruled in Thalyria. Don’t you think I know I need Magoi on my side? At my side?” he asks. “Magoi are a powerful minority in Sinta. They could be catastrophic for us if they ever decide to turn against us, especially with the northern nobles supporting them. My family and I managed to recruit a few Magoi advisors who actually seemed more interested in the realm than in the blood flowing through our veins, but that’s not enough. I need more than that.”

  He looks at me intently, leaning slightly forward. His hands curl at his sides, almost as if he’s resisting touching me again. “That’s why I went searching across Sinta for Magoi, but no one felt right. Not until you. You felt exactly right.” His voice deepens in pitch, smoothing over me like a velvety secret I shouldn’t want to know.

  My breathing shallows. Strange sensations dart through me, and I stupidly echo, “Exactly right?”

  He nods. “I need someone in my inner circle, someone who will make other Magoi think twice about rebelling. Someone who might even make them wonder what I have to offer. Someone powerful and trustworthy.”

  I blink, stunned by his apparent blind faith in me. “You don’t know anything about me!”

  “I know you’re the Kingmaker, and I also know you didn’t hesitate to put yourself in danger to protect a southern Sintan Hoi Polloi stranger and his men.”

  Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! Why did I do that? Stupid Medusa’s Dust. Stupid Basil. Stupid me!

  Beta Sinta’s eyebrows draw together in a sudden frown. “Don’t do that again.”

  I snort. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  He nods, like I didn’t just splash him with the acid in my voice.

  “Come.” The conversation about upending my entire life for his political gain evidently over, he tugs on the rope. I have two options—put one foot in front of the other, or get dragged around. I put one foot in front of the other.

  Once the horses are seen to, Beta Sinta sends Kato and Carver hunting and tells Flynn to guard the camp. Flynn has been carrying my satchel, and I grit my teeth while Beta Sinta goes through it, tossing my stuff around like he owns it. He sniffs my citrus soap, takes out the throwing knives and hands them to Flynn, goes through the pockets of my different pairs of pants, and then lobs the bag at me. “Time to get rid of your stink.”

  I glare at him. “Charming.”

  “Warlords don’t need charm.”

  Maybe not, but royals do.

  He leads me to the stream and looks at me expectantly. It turns into an epic staring match, and I finally throw my hands up in frustration, despising myself for cracking first. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to strip naked and bathe in front of you.”

  “Turn invisible.”

  “I won’t even make it to the water with four feet of rope!”

  “True.” He pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a sculpted torso, powerful and scattered with scars. Most of them are small, but there’s a big one under his left arm, snaking around his rib cage from the back. The skin is jagged and raised, a shade lighter than the rest of his sun-browned hide. No healer mended that. “I’ll bathe, too.”

  My eyes lock on the hard ridges of his abdomen. He’s not serious. His belt drops to the grass. He is!

  He starts sliding his pants down his hips, and I vanish in a panic, taking Beta Sinta into invisibility with me. His clothes reappear in a neat pile to my left just before his voice rumbles out of thin air. “Tug on the rope when you’re ready. And don’t forget the soap.”

  With my heart racing like a herd of Centaurs, I need a moment to recover the power of speech. “Use your own soap!”

  “Yours smells better.”

  My jaw drops, not that he can see. Of all the weird and uncomfortable situations I’ve ever been in, this one tops the list. I’m about to get naked with a Hoi Polloi Beta Sinta. Mother would have a fit, which almost makes being here worth it.

  That in mind, I unbuckle my belt and pull off my tunic. My boots follow, but I can’t for the life of me get out of my pants. Not sure what else to do, I throw my tunic back over my head, and we reappear. Beta Sinta is a lot closer than I expected, and he whirls, his elbow colliding with my chin.

  “Cat!” He reaches out to steady me as pain rockets through my jaw. One warm hand curls around my shoulder. The other tilts my face up, inspecting the hit. “Are you hurt?”

  I bat his hand away. Of course I’m hurt, but one bash in the face isn’t the worst I’ve had.

  He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  What isn’t? I flush hot and red and focus on his chest. It’s a pretty spectacular chest. I refuse to look lower. I close my eyes and mumble, “I can’t get my pants off.”

  There’s a beat of silence. Then he laughs—really laughs—and my eyes fly to his face. I ball up my fist, wondering what he’d do if I hit him in the chin.

  Still chuckling, Beta Sinta says, “Don’t look so furious. I’ll help.”

  “Stop laughing,” I demand through clenched teeth.

  Surprisingly, he makes an effort. His lips press together, but his eyes stay bright, leaving an intriguing mix of humor and hardness on his face.

  I take a deep breath and reluctantly uncurl my fist. Right now, Beta Sinta is the lesser of two evils.

  His eyes drop to my chin again. “You handled that hit well. Like a man.”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment? The last thing I want is to be hairy and stupid.”

  He grins, surprising me. “Not everyone knows how to take a hit. Personal experience?”

  I don’t respond. I’m not about to spill my life’s story.

  Beta Sinta shakes his head. “Cat, this doesn’t have to be—”

  “Don’t bother.” I hold up my hand, cutting him off. I close my eyes again since I don’t want an eyeful and then sit, leaning back on my elbows. The second I sense him reaching for me, I turn us invisible.

  “How am I supposed to help you if I can’t see you?” he asks.

  “I’m right in front of you,” I mutter. “Do it by feel.”

  He grumbles something that sounds like “stubborn soothsayer” before one hand lands heavily on my stomach, just below my breasts. His fingers slide toward my hips, bumping over the rope. Shivers skate across my skin. I feel warmth through my tunic and then calluses as he pushes the material aside. Tension locks me in place. Having Beta Sinta’s hand on me is strange and disturbing. I’m repulsed. Definitely repulsed.

  His other hand joins the first, sending a jolt of heat through me. I press my lips together, wholly unsettled.

  It takes a few hard tugs before I’m finally free. “I’m going to burn those,” I groan in relief.

  “Don’t.” His disembodied voice carries a rough edge. “I like them.”

  His tone nearly scares the magic out of me. The last thing I need is to get distracted, lose my invisibility, and end up sprawled naked on the ground with Beta Sinta.

  I blink, banishing the image. “All the more reason to burn them.”

  “I’m not your enemy, Cat.”

  I scramble back as far as the rope will let me. “Everyone is my enemy.”

  Silence. I guess he has nothing to say to that. I throw off my tunic, pick up my soap, and tug on the rope.

  The stream is revitalizing despite not being as cold as I’d like, and the water helps wash away the memory of a hard, hot hand sliding down my belly, of rough fingers on my hips, dipping under my—

  Stop!

  Flushing, I scrub every inch of myself, feeling like I can finally breathe again without my layers of cosmetics and yet dreading being seen without them. When I grudgingly give the soap to Beta Sinta, it’s an awkward exchange in which we grope for each other’s hands and
touch way too much skin. While he’s washing, I float, the rope keeping me close.

  “That’s not helpful,” he gripes, giving the rope a hard tug.

  I zip through the current, stream water washing over my face. “Too bad,” I sputter, letting myself drift back downstream.

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Cold?” I almost laugh. “I grew up swimming in the snowmelt from the Ice Plains. This is a thermal bath to me.”

  His pause makes me realize what I just gave away. Filters, Cat. Filters. They don’t seem to exist around him. Even southerners know the most powerful Magoi come from that far north. And from Fisa, to boot.

  “Let’s go,” Beta Sinta eventually says, climbing the bank and dragging me with him.

  “I don’t have a drying cloth.”

  “Use your tunic.” He must sweep his hand toward my clothes because his fingers accidentally brush my lower back. He inhales sharply, and I jump forward, shocked and confused by the strange sensation of lightning webbing out under my skin from the point of contact. I’m suddenly way too hot, with a pounding heart, and wondering what the not-altogether-unpleasant but very real zapping is all about.

  Tingling from head to toe, I release a slow breath, hating that it shudders on the way out. “My tunic’s too dirty.”

  “Then use mine,” he offers gruffly.

  Biting my lip, I scoop up his tunic and gingerly pat myself dry. The masculine scent of salt and sunshine teases my nose and imprints on my skin, lingering when I wish it wouldn’t. When I’m done, I toss the shirt down, aiming for a spot where the grass is thin. As luck would have it, the tunic reappears sweaty face-print up. Beta Sinta sees it for the first time and curses. Ha!

  His tunic disappears again along with the rest of his clothing.

  Ridiculously warm, I take my time combing and braiding my hair, trying to soak up the relative coolness of the evening air.

  Beta Sinta curses softly under his breath. “What in the Underworld is taking you so long?”

  I don’t answer and get dressed slowly, knowing it’ll irk him. I also can’t believe he’s about to see me without my face paints on.