A Promise of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  “Am I lying?”

  I grit my teeth. “No.” Of all people, I should know. “Power corrupts.”

  “Power corrupts the weak.”

  Gods! I hate it when I agree with him. “How did you even know what I can do?”

  There’s a slight pause. “At first, without drawing attention to myself, I was trying to get a feel for the different Magoi at the circus, but I found myself always watching you instead. First outside Sinta City when the circus crossed back over from Tarva. Then I went to a few performances in Kaplos. When the circus moved south, I decided to follow. I knew there was something different about you, something special, but I couldn’t figure out what.”

  His words stun me into silence. Beta Sinta watched me for weeks without my even realizing it? I’m not careless, or oblivious. None of this makes sense—not him focusing on me, and not my runaway mouth at the last circus fair. And since. Information is valuable, and I’ve been spewing it out like it’s worth copper instead of gold.

  “How did you figure it out?” I finally ask.

  His pause is longer this time. “Strangely enough, it was a dream. I dreamt I was swimming in a vast and stormy ocean in the dead of night. When I couldn’t swim any longer, I sank to the bottom, and you were there. You lit up the dark like a lightning bolt, took my hands, and pulled me to the surface. You told me we could change everything—that you knew the truth.”

  My heart seizes and then crashes violently against my ribs. An oracular dream! Beta Sinta was gifted with an oracular dream—Poseidon’s oracular dream—and he doesn’t even know it.

  Queasiness turns my insides upside down. Poseidon, why have you betrayed me?

  My mind races while my stomach ties itself in knots. What in the Underworld is going on? Why is Poseidon even interested in Sinta? There’s no ocean in the west, his Oracles are on the other side of the realms, and magic has always been weakest here. The Ice Plains get diagonally bigger as you go east. Sinta has the narrowest strip. As the middle realm, Tarva has twice as much glacial territory, and Fisa, in the east, has even more. To core Olympians like Poseidon, these dusty hills, plains, and old forests are an afterthought. As much as I love Sinta, it’s the runt of the realms.

  “From there I started thinking about old legends,” he continues. “I went to Mylos for the knowledge scrolls and found you, or the equivalent of you. The Kingmaker—the woman who hears the lie and knows the truth. Basil was the perfect test. I knew he wasn’t who he said he was. I was constantly drawn to you. The dream told me I needed you. After I saw your reaction when Basil lied, I knew what to do.”

  Constantly drawn to me? A weird spasm twists my chest. Focus! “Snatch me with a magic rope?”

  He laughs. “Exactly.”

  My hands, which for some reason keep ending up on his waist lately, curl into fists. Beta Sinta grabs one and holds on.

  “Let go,” I demand.

  “No.”

  My eyebrows snap together. “Why not?”

  “Because your gut reaction is always to punch, and I don’t like being tickled.”

  Tickled? Tickled! Indignation swamps me. I’ll show him a tickle.

  Before I can move, he drops the reins and captures my other hand, easily maneuvering both my hands into one of his. He picks the reins back up with the other. As usual, he gains the upper hand with disgustingly little effort, and I end up with both arms around him, my face buried in his back.

  Beta Sinta’s crisp, masculine scent of citrus and sunshine fills my nose. Hard muscle ripples under my cheek. I’m frighteningly aware of all the places his broad, powerful body touches mine, and I shiver despite the heat.

  “Let. Me. Go,” I grind out.

  “I. Said. No.”

  I open my mouth, teeth bared.

  “If you bite me, I swear to the Gods I’ll dump you off this horse and make you walk.”

  I close my mouth. The town is still miles away. “I won’t bite.”

  “Or punch.”

  I grit my teeth. “You’re asking a lot.”

  “Am I?” he drawls, tightening his grip on my wrists until I hiss.

  “Ow! Fine. Or punch.”

  His fingers loosen. “Is that your binding word?”

  My eyes widen. Beta Sinta says he needs me for information, but he already knows more about the ways of magic than is good for me.

  “Fine. It’s my binding word.” It’s like pulling my own teeth, but I’m desperate to stop hugging him. He’s too hot and…and…something.

  “Ever,” he stipulates.

  Something between a laugh and a snort explodes from me. “Don’t push your luck.”

  “A day, then. Starting now.”

  “Fine. A day,” I agree, fuming.

  He lets go of my wrists. I sit up so fast I almost tumble off the back of the horse. Beta Sinta’s chuckle is almost as irritating as the jolt of magic that seals the deal. Hoi Polloi can say one thing and do another, even if they shouldn’t. They may feel guilt, or regret, or possibly nothing at all, but there are no physical consequences. I can’t get away with that.

  An epic scowl on my face, I wiggle back, rubbing the finger marks on my wrists and thinking about Poseidon. Between Beta Sinta’s oracular dream and my out-of-control mouth, there’s no doubt the God is sticking his trident where it doesn’t belong. When Gods dabble in the affairs of men, anything can happen. It’s definitely not something to ignore. If my God Father wants Beta Sinta and me together, he must have a very good reason for it. Or at least I hope so.

  * * *

  We stable the horses at Pan’s Pavilion, a completely innocuous inn on the west side of town. Why Beta Sinta is entering a conquered city with so little fanfare is beyond me. What’s the point of taking over a realm just to wander around like a nobody?

  He laughs when I ask. Laughs. What is wrong with these people?

  “If anyone finds out who I am, we’ll be thronged,” he explains. “Better to just be a nobody if we want to make it to Sinta City before winter.”

  I guess that explains his avoidance of populated areas up until now. I roll my eyes. “Oh, the woe of being adored.”

  Beta Sinta grins. “It’s a hard life.”

  I harrumph. Too bad I made that vow not to hit him. It would be pretty satisfying to smack the smug look off his face right now.

  The five of us head straight to the market. The streets are narrow and shaded in the inn’s vicinity, but the closer we get to the agora, the more they widen, letting the afternoon sun beat down. It’s as merciless as Zeus on the top of my dark head. I can’t help wondering where a glacial lake is when I need one. Or a hat.

  The architecture changes near the heart of the city, becoming ornate. Temples dot the central neighborhood, a steady flow of people moving in and out of them for prayer.

  I insist on going into a sanctuary dedicated to Poseidon. There are only a few coppers in my pocket, along with the obol I wouldn’t even consider giving up. That coin is for Charon, and it’ll stay in my pocket until the day I need to pay the ferryman to row me across the Styx and into the land of the dead.

  Settling on my knees in front of a huge statue of the Sea God, I bow my head, say a silent prayer of safekeeping for my friends at the circus, and then put two of my three coppers into the polished bronze bowl at Poseidon’s feet. It’s not much, and Poseidon’s followers are many, but I hope my coppers will eventually find their way to providing for people who need them more than I do.

  Beta Sinta kneels beside me and takes a handful of silver coins from the pouch at his side, dropping them next to mine. My eyes practically pop out of my head at the sight of so much money.

  “I usually give to Athena and her cult.” He shrugs. “But since we’re here…”

  Carver, Flynn, and Kato all kneel and give up a silver coin as well.

  After the ho
ly man bestows a blessing on each of our bent heads, we head back out into the blinding sunlight. The heat sinks into my scalp, driving me crazy. Squinting and fanning myself, I look around at the stone buildings adorned with fluted marble columns and carvings of creatures and Gods. What I see makes the geography of our convoluted travels finally click into place.

  “This is Velos,” I say.

  Beta Sinta glances at me, seeming surprised. “You’ve been here?”

  “No, but Apollo and Artemis are everywhere, and Velans worship the twins.” They’re on nearly every facade, in all their naked glory. “Velos depends on game from the forest to the west. Along with the market, meat and leather are what make the city prosper. It’s logical to worship the Gods of archery and the hunt.”

  “How do you know so much about Velos? The circus travels a route farther to the west.”

  Hours of schooling and a tutor with a whip? “I’ve met people, heard things,” I say offhandedly.

  Beta Sinta stops, his mouth flattening in obvious irritation. “Help me, Cat. Or at least tell me the truth. I know when you’re lying.”

  “Oh?” My heart trips over its next beat.

  “Your eyes get twitchy.”

  “My eyes do not get twitchy!”

  “This one gets narrower.” He touches the tip of his finger to the corner of my right eye, and a little jolt zips through me. “It’s as if you’re expecting the lie to hurt, but it doesn’t because it’s your own.”

  I jerk my head away and start walking again. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll have to work on that.”

  “Cat…” he growls, stalking after me. “Everything would be so much easier if—”

  “—you let me go.”

  Beta Sinta shakes his head. “I can’t. You’re too valuable.”

  “Aren’t you the lucky despot? The one who caught the Kingmaker. Forgive me for not being overjoyed about becoming your slave.”

  “Not a slave.” He grabs my arm, swinging me back to him. “One of us.”

  Incredibly, he believes what he’s saying, even if I don’t. I wrench my arm from his grip, feeling each long finger like a brand on my skin. I wish my eyes could shoot flames. Or my hands. Or really, any part of me would do. “I’ll never be one of you.”

  Beta Sinta spears a hand through his black hair, tugging a little. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

  I glare at him. He simply looks back, and his calm makes me want to hit something. Or someone.

  Our small group continues before stopping again in front of a row of colorful market stalls. A light breeze slips over my shoulder, and I turn into it, trying to cool down while Beta Sinta opens his leather pouch again and produces four silver coins.

  Flynn rubs his hands together, his eyes brightening. “Payday!”

  Flynn, Carver, and Kato each take a coin, leaving one in Beta Sinta’s palm.

  “Cat.” He extends the coin to me. “Your pay.”

  Of all the things I imagined he might say, that wasn’t one of them. I snap my jaw shut and turn away. I have my last copper.

  He doesn’t insist, dropping the coin back into his pouch. “I’ll hold it for you. I know what you want. You complain about it often enough.”

  I look up sharply and find his eyes brimming with humor. Is he teasing me?

  We approach the vendors, the enchanted rope tugging me along. I wonder what would happen if I sat down and refused to budge. Would I get dragged around on my ass? Tossed over one shoulder? The possibilities keep my feet moving.

  Beta Sinta buys enough apricots and oranges to last a week; four loaves of bread; normal, hard cheese; and green grapes. I want the red ones, but since I refused the money, I keep my mouth shut. He finds a soap seller next and takes forever sniffing the different scents.

  I roll my eyes. “You’re worse than a woman. Just take the yellow one. It’s always the best.”

  He picks it up and inhales. “Lemon. Smells like you.”

  I don’t know if it’s the way his voice turns rough, or how his thick, dark lashes dip, fanning his cheeks and shading his eyes, but my insides turn revoltingly mushy.

  “And you,” I sputter. “My soap should have lasted another month.”

  “We’ll take two,” he tells the vendor, paying and then continuing down the row of stalls.

  “There is no we. Don’t act like I have a say in any of this.”

  Beta Sinta whirls, frustration darkening his eyes. “You could have a say. And you could bloody well choose your own soap!”

  “I did! I told you to take the yellow one.”

  “And I did!”

  Muttering a curse, he walks off so fast that the rope pulls, jerking me into someone. Or maybe the man stumbles into me. His eyes are unfocused, and he’s listing to the left.

  Magic bites my skin. My body responds instantly. I feel the vortex. I let it expand, readying the whirlpool that’ll pull the stranger’s magic into me and make it my own.

  I reach out with a shudder. Aside from the steady, light nip of the rope, which I hardly feel anymore, I haven’t been in contact with magic for nearly two weeks, and whatever is coursing through this man’s veins is exciting and potent. I don’t know what it is, but it might mean my escape.

  I grab his shoulders, feeling like a child in a kitchen full of cakes. I’m going to stuff myself until I burst.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Cat?” Beta Sinta sounds far away. “Cat! What are you doing?”

  Laughing, floating, I release the man only when there’s no magic left to take. Turning, I stumble into Beta Sinta. He catches my bare arms, and I gasp. Eyes like a storm. Fingers so warm.

  “You’re pink!” I giggle, the sound strange and unfamiliar to my ears.

  He frowns, and it makes me laugh. His face fades in and out of focus. Everything is hazy, rosy, and not quite upright. The world is buzzing. It’s turned elastic, and it vibrates at the edges.

  Dizzy, I lay my hand on Beta Sinta’s chest for balance. His heart beats under my palm, and the steady rise and fall of his chest mesmerizes me. Up. Down. Up. Down. It seems perfectly normal to time my breathing to match his.

  “Poseidon’s balls! What in the Underworld did you do to me?”

  I turn to the red-faced, raging man whose magic I took. A person’s natural magic will come back in a matter of hours, but this feels like a spell. I blink him into focus, tilting my head so he’s not sideways. He staggers, and tremors rack his wiry frame. He’s pink, too, and madder than the Minotaur in his maze.

  Beta Sinta tenses under my hand.

  “That dose was supposed to last all day!” the man snarls. “I paid good silver for it. Give it back!” he thunders, lunging at me.

  Beta Sinta’s arm snakes around my waist, and he spins me out of the way. The man howls, but all I can do is laugh, even when he draws a knife and waves it at me, a manic look in his eyes.

  An enraged sound rises in Beta Sinta’s chest. His free hand shoots out and knocks the knife from the man’s trembling grip. The next thing I know, Beta Sinta has the other man by the throat. It’s impressive. Fast.

  One of Beta Sinta’s arms is still wrapped around me, plastering me to his side. The other is extended in front of my nose. Powerful without unnecessary bulk, tanned, corded, chiseled—the whole arm is almost too appealing to resist. Muscles bunch and roll, and I have the hardest time not reaching up to squeeze his biceps.

  He tosses the man to the ground. Kato, Flynn, and Carver take up positions around us, looking wonderfully lethal. I clap and grin—I love a good fight, not that this one seems very fair—and then blink. Flynn either just grew three feet, or I’m hallucinating.

  “Dose of what?” The deadly undertone in Beta Sinta’s voice makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise. A shiver rattles me, and his grip around my waist tightens.

 
When the man just gapes at us, prostrate, Beta Sinta draws a knife from his belt and throws it without a second’s hesitation. It sticks not even an inch from the man’s ear, slicing off a hunk of matted brown hair.

  “The next one lands somewhere that hurts,” Beta Sinta says in a low, furious voice.

  I wrinkle my nose. “Brutal.”

  Thundercloud eyes flash to mine. “No one touches you.”

  I chew on my lower lip, confused. “You’re touching me.”

  His eyes dip to my mouth. “I’m the exception.”

  The breath stalls in my lungs. Everything inside me suddenly feels liquid and light. He reminds me of a pirate again. Dark. Sharp. Fierce. I smile up at him, wondering if it would be all right to jump into his arms and bury my face in his neck.

  Our eyes meet. His are like molten silver, and my legs turn weak. I sway into him, and Beta Sinta’s fingers convulse on my hip, tugging me closer. His eyes close for the space of a deep breath. When he opens them again, his jaw hardens, and he turns back to the man on the ground with a snarl. “I’m waiting.”

  I turn back, too, narrow my eyes, and point an accusing finger. “Answer or die!” The man’s face drains of what little color it had left, and I burst out laughing.

  “Euphoria,” he wheezes, struggling to sit up. “Paid five silvers for it, and the little leech stole it with one touch.” He spits in my direction. The gob lands about a foot from my boot. It’s pink.

  The rumble in Beta Sinta’s throat reminds me of a volcano about to erupt. This could get messy. I’m not in the mood for messy.

  “You bumped into me.” At least I think he did. I peel Beta Sinta’s arm off me and walk away, finding it takes an unusual amount of effort to put one foot in front of the other. The rope pulls, and I totter. Beta Sinta steadies me with a firm hand on my lower back, hesitating before following. I almost ask if he’d like to beat the man to a pulp before we move on but, really, this is Beta Sinta. There’s no need to be polite.

  “What about the addict?” Carver asks in a low voice, handing Beta Sinta back the knife he threw.

  “Leave him,” Beta Sinta answers, sheathing the blade. He’s at my elbow, his heat searing my arm. “Make sure he’s not following.”