A Promise of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  Flynn makes a strangled sound.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re right, Cat.” Coming up next to me, Kato seems terribly serious all of a sudden. “Don’t let just anyone impale you. Only someone special.”

  My mouth falls open. It’s possible to turn kalaberry red, and if the heat in my face is any indication, I do. They’re ridiculously pleased with themselves, grinning like sirens with sailors on the horizon. I shake my head, but the corners of my mouth jump up in an involuntary response that has nothing to do with my having fun. Because I’m not. At. All.

  “Concentrate!” I snap, turning back to the target. If I had a whip, I’d crack it. Or maybe not. They’d have too much to say about that.

  Chuckling, Kato picks up a knife, draws back, and then throws. The hilt bounces off the base of the tree, and his lips purse in annoyance. “This is harder than it looks.”

  “That’s one of the lighter knives, a floater. It’s not as stable, and the target is too far for it. Try this one.” I hand him a heavier blade and then guide his hand around the hilt as if he were holding a hammer. “Remember, stiff wrist or you can’t control the rotations.”

  His blue eyes narrowing on the target, Kato takes a deep breath, getting a feel for the knife in his hand. When he throws, he hits the bottom of the knot and lets out an ear-shattering whoop. I can’t help smiling—a huge, idiotic, smeared-across-my-entire-face smile. Three days ago, neither of them could hit a tree.

  Beta Sinta wanders over, ruining my mood. “It’s good that you’re teaching them, Cat. You’re good at that.”

  “At teaching or at throwing?” Instead of looking at him, I release one of my daggers, burying it to the hilt in the center of the knot. It’s so close to my other knife that the two vibrate against each other in a metallic song.

  “Both,” he answers.

  “And I’m supposed to care what you think?”

  His jaw works like he’s grinding his teeth—or chewing up an irritated response. “I’m glad you’re working with them,” he says evenly. “It was a compliment.”

  I put my hand over my heart, inhaling dramatically. “That makes abducting me and threatening my friends so much better.”

  A frustrated sound rasps in Beta Sinta’s throat. “You never let up, do you?”

  I glare at him, my voice cold enough to sprout icicles. “Why would I? I’m neither a guest nor a friend.”

  A muscle bounces in his cheek. He takes a knife from his belt, buries it in the birch next to my two, and then walks away.

  I huff. At least he doesn’t need throwing lessons. “Why didn’t he blind the Giant?”

  “He got the other eye.” Flynn shrugs. “And I needed the practice. You shouldn’t goad him, you know.”

  I snort. “It’s the only fun I have.”

  Flynn sighs, a gusty sound full of censure. “You helped us with the Giant. You’re teaching Kato and me to throw. You’ve told us things about magic and the north, things we never would have known. You’re part of this team now, and half the time you even act like it, whether you mean to or not. It’s not a bad place to be. We watch each other’s backs.”

  “I watch my own back.” I always have.

  “It’s better to have friends doing it,” Flynn says.

  “I have friends! They’re at the circus.”

  His lips mash together. He can’t argue with that. “You’re not a guest, that’s true. Whether you’re a friend, though, Cat…that’s up to you.”

  My whole body goes still. My heart rate accelerates. Flynn is extending an olive branch. I can practically see it in his hand. I can also think of about a hundred nasty things to say, but they just won’t shove past the lump in my throat. Gods, I’m such an idiot.

  “We worked hard and fought bloody battles to be where we are,” Kato says. “People will be jealous of how you just danced into the inner circle.”

  “I didn’t dance here. I was dragged.”

  He hands me a knife, grinning. “I keep forgetting that.”

  Even if it’s a joke, his lie still ignites an inferno in my bones. Pain roars through me, and I shudder. Hiding it seems pointless now.

  “Sorry,” Kato murmurs, frowning at the blast of internal fire he knows he inadvertently caused.

  I shake off the burn and throw the knife, hitting the target again.

  “You’re an asset,” Flynn continues, sweeping his big hand toward the knot with my blades dead center. “Good for more than just your magic.”

  He’s pointing to the target, but I get the feeling he’s talking about knowledge as well as knives.

  “And you won’t believe the riches and luxuries in the castle. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to the Elysian Fields instead of the Underworld.” Flynn’s deep, animated voice reminds me of a rumble of thunder in the north. Something about him puts me in mind of home—the good parts—even though he’s a southerner to the core. Maybe it’s his size. Everything is big in the north: big lakes, big mountains, big Oracles, big magic. “You can have a room filled with gold furniture, the finest linens, gowns, and feather pillows.” He chuckles. “You can lounge around drinking wine and eating sugared fruit all day long.”

  I look up at him, confused. What makes Flynn think I’ll be in the castle when both he and Kato have talked about living in the barracks? Anyway, locked up is locked up, even if it’s in a gilded cage. “The Elysian Fields are reserved for those favored by the Gods, and I refuse to be a drunk with rotten teeth.”

  Flynn laughs, smiling broadly before his expression turns unnervingly serious. “You’ll be protected.”

  “Protected?” My eyebrows nearly shoot off my head. “Who will protect me from Beta Sinta?”

  Flynn’s eyebrows nearly shoot off his head.

  “Oh, never mind,” I mutter. “I’ll protect myself.”

  He frowns, shaking his shaggy auburn-haired head. “You haven’t realized it yet, but you’re part of Griffin’s team. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

  A disconcerting wave of warmth rolls through me. “He’s the problem. And for the rest, he can’t control everything.”

  “Don’t tell him that,” Carver says, ambling over. Carver hasn’t shown any interest in target practice. He’s been polishing his sword until the long blade gleams like frost on a frigid dawn.

  “Don’t tell him what?” Beta Sinta asks, startling me. The man moves like a shadow, despite his size.

  I turn and scowl at him. “That I’m not an actor in your Sintan tragedy.”

  He gives me his hard stare, widens his stance, and crosses his arms. Apparently, he’s here to stay.

  “If you’re loyal to Griffin,” Flynn says soberly, “he’ll be loyal to you.”

  “And what’s more important than loyalty?” My tone mocks Beta Sinta’s at the circus fair.

  “Well?” Beta Sinta asks. “What is?”

  “Freedom. Choice.” I face the target and throw, hitting the knot again. There are no more knives, so Carver sheathes his sword and goes to retrieve the daggers, returning three to Flynn, three to Kato, and Beta Sinta’s to him. I don’t get to play this time. Maybe Carver’s afraid I’ll stab his brother.

  “What are freedom and choice without honor?” Beta Sinta demands.

  “What honor is there in keeping me against my will?”

  “What honor is there in letting go of an important weapon just because she complains all the time?” he practically snarls.

  “I don’t complain all the time!”

  His eyes flash silver. “You do!”

  My jaw drops, but before I can respond, Kato jumps in. His voice rises, mimicking mine. “I hate this rope. I want bread. There’s no more fruit. It’s too bloody hot. Let me gooooo!”

  “That doesn’t sound anything like me!” I punch Kato in the arm. Hard. “And I do hate this
rope! And I want bread. And fruit. You people eat meat at every meal, even for breakfast. It’s not normal. And don’t get me started on all that goat cheese!” I make a face because I just can’t help it.

  “Cat, you know things, things about Magoi and royals. Things about Giants, and Oracles, and Dragons from the north. Things we know next to nothing about. Plus, there’s your Kingmaker power. You’re very valuable to us.” Beta Sinta flicks his hand toward the birch. “And you’re not bad with a knife.”

  Not bad? Not bad! I cross my arms, sullen. “It all comes down to how much use I can be.”

  “That’s what it comes down to for everyone. How much use we can be.” Beta Sinta comes toward me until I have to tilt my chin up to look at him or step back, which I refuse to do. His gray eyes are stormy, and a tremor runs through me. It isn’t fear, and it makes me want to squirm.

  “I conquered a kingdom and found a treasure.” His voice turns gravelly, low. “I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

  A fluttering stirs deep in my chest. Something new. Something strange. I beat it down and turn, nodding to Flynn to get his daggers ready. “Yeah, I get it. You won’t let me go.” I guess I’ll just have to escape.

  So why is some small part of me considering helping these people? Sinta has been both a home and a refuge. I’ve watched Sintan faces split wide with wonder and delight. I’ve given advice and seen what’s in a thousand hearts. Most of it’s not bad. I’ve been protected—by Selena, by loyal friends, by Cerberus guarding our gates, by Poseidon when he feels like it. Most Sintans have no magic and no refuge, and the Magoi royals were like Gods. They maimed, struck, killed, and rewarded at their fancy. Sintans didn’t necessarily live badly, but they lived in fear. The takeover has been a source of new hope. For the first time, a Hoi Polloi family is in charge, and the majority of Sintans think that will be better for them.

  I can’t help thinking they’re right, and it’s making me sloppy. I keep letting things slip, as if my mouth and my brain aren’t connected anymore. Last night, I told the men all about Dragons. The Fisan royals have Sybaris, a terrifying She-Dragon whose favorite pastime is to chomp mortals. They don’t use her to take over Tarva only because Tarva has Scylla, the She-Dragon’s sister. They’re both magic-bound to protect their realms, but the two won’t fight each other. Generations ago, Dragon use turned into a giant stalemate with lots of huffing and fiery puffing, but no army eating. Most people don’t even remember the Dragons are still there. Sinta had Echidna, the third sister, to ward off the other two. As soon as royal magic wasn’t containing her anymore, anyone with an ounce of sense and some knowledge of Thalyrian history knows Echidna must have flown off to the Ice Plains. Before, everyone had a Dragon. Now Sinta is the only realm without.

  “How do you fight a Dragon?” Beta Sinta’s voice is deep and right in my ear. I have two feet of rope and not enough space.

  “With another Dragon.”

  “How do you get a Dragon?”

  “With magic.”

  He looks at me, but I don’t look back. My eyes follow the sparks popping from the campfire.

  His tone grows clipped. “And if you don’t have magic?”

  “Then you don’t have a Dragon.”

  My wandering mind snaps back to birches, daggers, and Sintan warriors. “Find me fruit and bread, and I’ll consider being less of a pain. And no more goat cheese!”

  Beta Sinta looks at me for a long time and then walks away.

  Okay then. I turn back to Flynn. His auburn hair catches the last few rays of dappled sunshine sneaking through the canopy of leaves, framing his strong, square face in a red-gold glow. He looks pleased and claps me on the back like I’m part of the team. He hits me so hard I nearly fall on my face.

  I don’t want to like him. I don’t want to like any of them. I don’t want to be part of their team.

  “I might be able to drive a Dragon.” Gah! Where did that come from?

  Carver, Flynn, and Kato cheer loudly, drawing Beta Sinta’s attention. He looks curious, and I turn my back on him, feeling vaguely ill.

  Twenty minutes later, Flynn lands two daggers near the edge of the knot, and I can’t help it. I jump up and down and clap.

  CHAPTER 7

  I squint into the heat haze, wondering if I’m hallucinating. “Is that a town?” I was starting to think we’d go all the way to Sinta City without ever staying at an inn.

  Sleep in a bed? With Beta Sinta?

  My stomach flips over at the thought, even though I’ve been sleeping next to him on the ground.

  Maybe he’d just tie me to the bed?

  What flashes through my mind makes wildfire splash across my cheeks when I should be seething. I am seething. Beta Sinta keeps me infuriatingly close—on horseback, at meals, in streams. At night. His scent is constantly in my nostrils, the heat of him always scorching my skin.

  “Better. A market town.” He turns, smiling at me, and the outside of his thigh brushes the inside of mine. My pulse picks up, and there’s an excited leap in my chest. My unruly physical reaction to him makes me want to kick myself in the head. Or kick him in the head.

  “Why now? Not that I’m complaining.” I can put a muzzle on my animosity for a few hours in exchange for a market town.

  “You said you’d be less of a pain in exchange for fruit and bread. And no more goat cheese.”

  I fight the smile tugging at my lips. “I said I’d consider it.”

  “For more soap and a drying cloth, maybe you’ll get us a Dragon,” he adds hopefully.

  Of course the others told him about that. They’re worse than a bunch of gossiping fishwives. I can’t even yawn without it being reported back to Beta Sinta within the hour.

  “I’ll need more than that for a Dragon. And I don’t even know if I can.”

  “You could try.”

  I snort. “That’s not my motto.”

  I can’t see his face, but I know he’s grinning. His high spirits make me want to grin back, which worries me. Does Beta Sinta think he’s won? How did I even end up here?

  “What were you doing at the circus only a few months after taking over Sinta? Didn’t you have other things to do?”

  He chuckles, a deep, vibrating sound that rumbles through my body. That fluttery feeling irritates my chest again.

  “I told you, I need Magoi on my side. The circus is full of them, but from what I could see, they’re not the usual pretentious, prejudiced lot.”

  True. “And abduction seemed like a good idea?”

  “I asked first.”

  “More like ordered. And threatened my friends.”

  He shrugs. “I told you. I do what needs to be done.”

  My hackles instantly rise. “Who are you to decide what needs to be done? That’s subjective by nature. No two people think alike.”

  “Someone has to decide. Without rulers, there’s chaos.”

  Damn it! That’s true. “We had rulers. There was order.”

  “There was oppression.”

  Damn it! That’s true, too.

  “Hold on,” he says. My hands automatically land on his waist while he urges his horse to jump a lightning line. The mark of Zeus stretches as far as the eye can see in both directions, a charred scar cutting across dust, stones, and yellowed grass, proof that the Gods are never far from Thalyria.

  Beta Sinta reins in, waiting for the others to catch up. “Character, past, and environment all affect the choices we make. The trick is choosing a path and following it. Make a decision, and don’t turn back.”

  “What if it’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” He winks at me over his shoulder. “It’s never happened.”

  I roll my eyes, torn between laughing and pulling my hair out. “Since kidnapping clearly doesn’t bother you, why me? I can’t do anything. If I could, I’d be long g
one.”

  He turns again, his dark eyebrows raised. “Does my rare and surly Kingmaker really need me to answer that?” he teases.

  His? My pulse speeds up. “Okay. Fine. Besides that.”

  He doesn’t turn back around. His eyes travel an unhurried path over my face, and I can almost feel the heat in them on the curve of my cheek, and then on my mouth. His burning gaze snags on my braid, following it across my shoulder and over the swell of my breast. As his eyes dip, his lips part, and his fingers twitch on his thigh.

  My breathing turns shallow. Muscles I’m not usually aware of clench deep inside me, growing achy with tension and warmth. The heat simmering in my core quickly spirals through the rest of me, flushing my face with color. I hate that I react this way to him. And I hate that it shows.

  Scowling, I flick my braid over my shoulder.

  Beta Sinta blinks and turns back around. “That was it, at the time. The Kingmaker. But you’re a lot more than that, aren’t you, Cat?”

  The blood still climbing to my face plummets like Icarus falling to the sea. Gods, magic, and the prophecy I try so hard to ignore all collide in my stomach in an explosion of secrets and dread. Anxiety coats my tongue while an icy chill slides down my spine. The feeling is so familiar, and yet it freezes me solid every time.

  I take a deep breath and let it out as silently as I can. “Not really.” My voice comes out light and steady, even though I’m about two Hydra heads away from having a panic attack. “I’m from the north. Knowledge of creatures and magic is normal for us.”

  He grunts. Agreement? Skepticism? I can’t tell.

  I bite my lip, wondering what he really knows. “Why focus on me?”

  Beta Sinta shrugs, rolling his muscular shoulders right in front of me. His lightweight tunic doesn’t hide much. It’s hard not to stare.

  “I don’t need more brute strength,” he says. “I won this war. There are politics to deal with now—Magoi nobles, and Tarvan and Fisan royals. I need to know who’s lying to me. I need to know the truth so Sinta can avoid more war.”

  “The warlord wants peace?” I scoff.