A Promise of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  “That’s how he got into the castle and cut down the Sintan royals? Their magic couldn’t touch him, and he was just plain better than any of them with a sword?”

  Carver nods, and my mouth pinches into a disgusted pucker. The realization is hard to swallow. Beta Sinta would best me in a fight, no matter what magic I had stored up.

  I blow out a long breath and try to look on the bright side—he can best a lot of my enemies, too.

  As if my thoughts conjured him, Beta Sinta pushes the tent flap aside and storms in, eyeing the four of us with a hard glint in his eyes. Seeing him is like a really strange punch in the gut, winding me, but not entirely unpleasant, either.

  His chin dips. “I heard you were awake, Talia.”

  I mutter a curse that makes Flynn blush.

  Kato, Carver, and Flynn leave so fast I practically feel a breeze. So much for having my back. At least they leave the tent flap tied back and the door wide open.

  Beta Sinta arches dark eyebrows, looking expectant.

  Not wanting to have this conversation sitting down, I stand too quickly, and bright spots streak across my vision.

  “I’m awake,” I confirm, although it’s kind of obvious. “So?”

  Beta Sinta crosses his arms. “So tell me what’s going on. Talk to me, like you did in Velos.”

  “I wasn’t myself,” I say stiffly.

  “True. You were fun.”

  My face contorts into a scowl of epic proportions. I take an angry step toward him and stumble, completely off balance.

  He’s there in an instant, his hands on my waist, the heat of his skin blazing between us. My pulse surges.

  “You’re weak.” His tone sharpens. “I thought she fixed you.”

  I wiggle away from the hands scorching holes through the sides of my tunic. “You don’t have to sound so mad about it. Selena did what she could.”

  He frowns. “Talk to me, Cat. Why Talia? Who were they?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  Magnetic gray eyes capture mine. “You can trust me.”

  I scoff. “So says the kidnapper.”

  He just stares at me like he fully expects me to start talking.

  Gods! He’s infuriating! “It’ll be a cold day in the Underworld before I trust you.” Or a moderately cool one. Well, a day with a stiff breeze anyway. Gah!

  I back up until my legs bump against my cot, oddly chilled after being so close to him.

  “How are you feeling, Talia?”

  I glare at him. “That’s not my name.”

  “According to the Fisan it is. You know, the one yelling ‘She’s mine!’ with bloody murder in his eyes.”

  My heart slams hard against my ribs. “He must have mistaken me for someone else.”

  Beta Sinta’s stare turns flat with disbelief. “For days, you told me they were coming for you.”

  Oh, right… I shrug.

  His eyes flash silver. “Who was he?”

  “I don’t know! Fisans are insane. Get used to it.” I grin maniacally, but it fails to have any effect on him.

  “The two of you had a chat while the rest of us were fighting to the death. You don’t do that with someone you don’t know.”

  Beta Sinta couldn’t have heard what we were saying. There was too much noise and confusion for that. “I always get to know people before I kill them. It’s much more satisfying that way.” There. That sounded sufficiently insane.

  His eyebrows slam down. “Don’t make me ask again,” he says, sounding like he’s grinding stones between his teeth.

  I turn and fold my blanket, just in case my eye really does twitch when I lie. “My ex-lover. It didn’t end well. He’s been out to kill me ever since.”

  Beta Sinta’s hands land on my shoulders, heavy and hot. I jolt and then stiffen. He turns me around, making my head spin. I barely keep my feet from tangling up in each other.

  “I thought you were done lying to me.” He drops his arms but stays disturbingly close. “You know when people lie to you. They can’t get away with the smallest falsehood. You, on the other hand, can lie all you want.”

  “So?”

  “So I can’t protect you if you won’t tell me the truth!” He actually growls at me. Loud. “I want to protect you, Cat.”

  I blink. Want. Not need. The word strikes me hard, like a dagger trying to pierce the tight knot of muscle beating far too rapidly in my chest.

  My lips part and then press together again. I can’t deal with this. I’m woozy, my stomach feels like lead, and it’s all too much.

  A sudden, horrible thought occurs to me. “Can you see me when I’m invisible?”

  He shakes his head, seamlessly reining in his temper to answer me. “I only reject magic that harms.”

  Thank the Gods! My eyes narrow. “That’s convenient.”

  “It is,” he agrees.

  “I should’ve let you take the arrow.”

  “You should have.” His eyes bore into mine, demanding answers. “Why didn’t you?”

  Good question. An evening breeze comes through the open doorway, tossing his longish hair around. His eyes are the color of thunderclouds, both luminous and dark, striking against his sun-bronzed skin. There’s steadiness in them, and my nerves settle. For some reason, the strength and deadliness he keeps so easily leashed make him the most compelling man I’ve ever met. I envy his self-control.

  “Temporary insanity.” I shrug. “A moment of complete idiocy. I must have forgotten who you are.”

  He looks disappointed, and something tugs inside of me. His eyes stray to the scars on my arms, lingering on the fresh one Selena had to make to keep me alive. “Regardless, don’t ever do something like that again. Now answer the questions, Talia.”

  I turn mute on him. I’m good at that.

  Beta Sinta waits for what must seem like a reasonable amount of time to him and then grates out, “He hurt you, and you won’t even tell me who he was!”

  “Hurt me?” I laugh, the maniacal in it a little too real. My filters snap. Or maybe some deeper part of me does. Secrecy isn’t the only reason I don’t talk about my past. I don’t talk about the things that have happened to me because acknowledging them plunges me into nightmares and sucks the light from the world. “Hurting me is keeping me in a cage for eight months. Not a single change of clothes. Not a bath. Not a pillow. Not a bloody second of privacy. Only enough bread and water to survive, and spitting fire and lies at me just to see me writhe.”

  Beta Sinta’s face turns thunderous. “The Fisan did that to you?”

  “The Fisan royals!” An edge of hysteria is creeping into my voice. I hear it. I hate it. I can’t do anything about it. “They’re the ones who call me Talia. It was Beta Fisa I killed.” Gamma, actually, but that hardly matters now. “Don’t ever call me that. Ever!”

  Big, warm hands rise to my cheeks. Long fingers curl around the nape of my neck, their hold on me light yet firm. He tilts my face up, saying in a low, calming voice, “I won’t. It’s all right. You’re Cat. Just Cat.”

  “It’s not all right!” I explode, grabbing his wrists. I don’t know if it’s to hold on to him, or to push him away. I do a little of both. “They won’t rest until I’m theirs again. Or dead.” My legs start to shake, making the rest of me tremble. “They’ll never take me alive. Never!”

  A note of frantic conviction hangs in the air between us. It’s thick, like fear.

  Beta Sinta makes a soothing sound and slides his fingers into my hair, smoothing them over the back of my head and sending all sorts of misguided sensations spiraling around my body.

  Leaning down, he lightly drops his forehead against mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  He sounds so sure. I resist the temptation to lean into him, to find shelter in his arms, my internal battle complica
ted by the knowledge that he wouldn’t push me away. He’s still cradling my head, gently massaging. We’re breathing each other’s air.

  Awareness rushes through me. Heat swirls in my veins, and my stomach tumbles wildly. My eyes close, and my hands slip from his wrists. The left one drops, limp. The right one hovers and then presses against his chest. Under it, his heart thumps hard and then beats faster. I open my eyes and stare at my fingers, wondering what they’re doing there, touching him, absorbing his warmth.

  “Never promise things you can’t deliver,” I whisper.

  “I can try,” he whispers back, and I hate myself because I smile. Tension drains from me, leaving me far too aware of his height and strength, of his subtle scent, and of the fact that this man kissed me.

  He lifts his head and strokes my jaw, the touch featherlight despite the power in his hands and the calluses on his fingers. “Tell me about the Fisan royals. The more I know, the better I can defend you.”

  “I can defend myself.”

  He smiles. It’s lopsided, and more heart-stopping than I care to admit. “Is that how you got caught by a warlord with a magic rope?” he teases.

  Scowling, I shove hard against his chest where my hand is still resting.

  “Tell me about the Fisans,” he says again, voluntarily stepping back.

  I shiver. “Later.” I glance around Selena’s tent. “There are names I don’t want lingering in the air.”

  He nods in understanding. “Soon, then.”

  I nod back. There’s no escaping it. He’s too damn stubborn.

  Watching me, Beta Sinta backs toward the tent opening. I can still feel his fingers on my skin, rough and masculine, and I have to quell the urge to touch where he touched. It’s unsettling. I bite my lip.

  “Cat?” There’s enough warmth in his voice to send my heartbeat into dangerous territory.

  “Yes?”

  “You do a good job of defending yourself.”

  I nod. “I’ve been taught well. I’m the favored child.”

  “Of Poseidon?”

  Not answering, I turn and swirl my fingertips in the basin of water by my bedside, watching the pattern I make form and fade. Yes, well, of him, too.

  CHAPTER 12

  We spend three more days recovering. The Sintans camp outside the circus grounds, but I sleep in my old tent. Temporary homecomings are bittersweet. Sometimes it’s better not to go back at all than to have to leave again. I don’t have a choice, though, binding vow or not. Otis may have failed, but Alpha Fisa won’t give up. Andromeda knows I’m in Sinta now. She’s still coming for me, and next time, she’ll send something worse.

  My friends gather behind us as we prepare to leave, throwing dirty looks at my Sintan companions. Only Selena’s brow remains unruffled, as if she knows something the rest of us don’t. Before we ride out, she breaks rank and strides toward me.

  “This is for you. From Hades.” She drops a small charm into the palm of my hand. It’s a gold figurine of Cerberus. The hound has six ruby eyes, a set for each of its three heads.

  I can’t hide my astonishment. “Why is Hades interested in me?”

  “Only use it if you have to.” She closes my fingers around the warm metal, not answering my question.

  “How does it work?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  I look at her, incredulous. “You didn’t ask?”

  “I was busy doing other things.”

  I snort. “That’s helpful.”

  Her blue eyes sparkle. “It was for me.”

  I shut down my imagination before it paints too vivid a picture. “Do you at least know what it does?”

  Selena shakes her head.

  “Really? Nothing?” I ask.

  She pats my cheek. End of discussion.

  Beta Sinta reaches down for me and helps me clamber up the side of his gigantic horse. I take a deep breath as we then turn to leave. I don’t look back. I don’t want to see a huge, blue man with his arm around a weeping rainbow and a woman who shimmers like the sun. I don’t want to see dozens of people I care about or Cerberus’s terrifying, ugly, furry heads because if I do, the already painful ache inside me might turn into something I can’t bear.

  Beta Sinta tries to talk to me, but I stay silent, afraid words won’t make it past the thickness in my throat. After thirty minutes of riding in silence, we turn west, skirting the farms outside the city instead of heading north.

  “We’re staying in Kaplos?” I ask, confused.

  He shakes his head, his midnight hair sliding along his neck and curling slightly around his ears. I find myself looking a little too hard at the back of his tanned neck. The spray of freckles across it is…kind of appealing.

  “We’re going to a horse breeder I know.”

  Oh? The horses all seem fine to me. “Why?”

  “Don’t you want a horse?”

  Actually, it never even occurred to me. “Now that you mention it, it would be fabulous to get away from you and… What’s your horse’s name? All this time, and I never thought to ask.”

  “Horse.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s original.”

  “Brown Horse,” he amends.

  It’s hard not to laugh. “Much better, but I can’t afford a horse.”

  “I’ll take it out of your wage.”

  “Then I can’t afford to eat.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Cat.”

  “I don’t want you buying me a horse!” My voice comes out sharper than intended, but I don’t want to be dependent, or beholden, or anything really.

  “Then ride with me.”

  I weigh my options. “I’d rather starve and have a horse.”

  He doesn’t argue. Maybe he saw how many spice cakes I consumed over the last few days and thinks cutting back would do me good.

  The farm we stop at is only a midsized affair, but I can tell just from the upkeep of the fences that we’ll find high-quality animals here.

  “Take your pick,” Beta Sinta says after the breeder gives us a demonstration of five horses he thinks would suit me.

  I glance at him, surprised. I thought he’d choose for me. “I don’t know anything about horses. The last time I had a choice, I was too young to care about anything other than pretty or not pretty.”

  He slides me a long look. I never volunteer information about my past, so I’m surprised when he doesn’t press for more. He points to a chestnut whose reddish coat gleams in the sun. “He’s the right size and fairly placid.”

  “Why do I need placid?”

  He hits me with his hard stare. “Because then at least one of you will stay calm.”

  “Calm is boring,” I retort.

  His white teeth flash, and his gray eyes crinkle at the corners. “Absolutely,” he agrees, looking at me with undisguised heat in his eyes.

  My stomach flips over in a way that makes me want to throw up for a variety of reasons, but significantly lessens the urge to argue.

  I take a deep breath. “The chestnut, then?”

  “Or that gray.” He nods to a horse the color of dirty snow with four black socks and a dark muzzle. “He’s fast.”

  “Faster than the chestnut?”

  Beta Sinta nods. “But the chestnut can run, too. He’s powerful enough.”

  “He. He. What about a girl horse?”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t want a mare.”

  “Why not?”

  He angles his head toward mine, his eyes still smiling. I don’t think my eyes are even capable of smiling. “Females are temperamental,” he says with a roguish grin.

  My eyes narrow, and I give him a hearty shove. Playfully, he shoves me back. I land on my ass.

  “For the Gods’ sakes,” I mutter.

  Beta Sinta looks surprised. “Y
ou fall over too easily.”

  “Excuse me for being half your size!”

  “Next time, I’ll remember that,” he says, extending his hand to me.

  Next time? Next time! I pop up and launch myself at him. I’m not quite sure why.

  Flynn, who’s on my other side, catches me in midair. “We’re a team, Cat, remember? No fighting.” Roped with muscle, Flynn’s arm covers my entire midsection. I go limp, blowing sweat-dampened curls out of my eyes. All these stupid rules of camaraderie! Gag!

  Beta Sinta grins at me. Flynn sets me down.

  “So which horse do you want?” Beta Sinta asks as if I hadn’t just tried to get into a brawl with him for no apparent reason. He’s just… He’s just so… Argh!

  “The chestnut,” I answer sourly. “At least one of us will stay calm.”

  * * *

  I like having my own horse, and traveling with the Sintans without being tied up is actually kind of fun—something I would die a thousand horrific deaths before ever admitting to them. Carver thinks my sword technique could use work, so he offers to spar with me. Having seen him wield a blade, I can’t say no.

  We circle, weapons raised. Kato is off hunting, Flynn is on watch, and Beta Sinta is polishing his sword, keeping an eye on us. My attacks are child’s play for Carver. He’s so fluid with a blade that I start to wonder if there’s something magical about his ability, some magic I can’t steal, or even feel. After an hour of practicing, I’m tired and sweaty, and I haven’t landed a single hit.

  Frustrated, I spin out of a deadlock before Carver disarms me or pushes me to the ground again. Before I can turn back around, he spanks me with the flat of his sword. It stings, and I howl.

  Rubbing my backside, I demand, “Do all men have a thing for spanking?”

  Carver wiggles his eyebrows. “Most women, too.”

  I huff, although I have heard…

  “Ever been spanked before?” he asks.

  “Don’t be cheeky.” For some reason, a conjured up image of Beta Sinta trying to smack my naked bottom while I halfheartedly scramble away flits through my much too active imagination. Warmth billows up inside me, singeing my face.