A Promise of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  * * *

  We lose ourselves in the trees and throw knives until our hands are raw. Flynn and Kato are hitting the target more often than not. I never miss, which leaves me arrogant and gleeful and them looking for a way to take me down. Wrestling does the trick.

  “Gods! What do they feed you in the south? Minotaur meat?” I kick Flynn off me with a groan.

  He grins, springing nimbly to his feet. “Another go?”

  I shake my head, declining another squashing. “Why don’t we train with the others?” Everyone else from the barracks is in the blazing heat of the Athena courtyard with Piers, undergoing traditional drills.

  Kato winks at me. “Because we’re better.”

  “True.” I glance at the sky.

  Kato squints up with me. “What are we looking for?”

  “Lightning bolts. Punishment for our overwhelming arrogance.”

  “Do you think the Gods are listening?” he asks, scratching his blond-stubbled jaw.

  I shrug. “Do you think they’re not?”

  “They’re listening to you, anyway,” Flynn says.

  “One is.” Maybe two. Possibly three…

  “Come on.” Wrapping his big hand around my elbow, Flynn tugs on my arm. “Let’s run so you can eat your spice cake tomorrow.”

  Taking the long way, we jog back to the barracks and then go our separate ways. I visit Panotii with an apple, making him share since Kato, Flynn, and I skipped lunch while we were out in the woods. I brush Panotii until his chestnut coat shines and then sit on a barrel, stroking one of his enormous ears and stewing about dinner.

  I use the women’s bathhouse again and spot Daphne and her two friends giving me the evil eye. The burn on her cheek is still red and puckered. I have no idea if she bothered Griffin about it, or if she’s even seen him. Or how much she might have seen of him.

  My stomach hollows at the thought of them together. I know myself well, and I could list my own flaws until I pass out from lack of air. I’m not beyond jealousy, or spite, or completely illogical behavior, and seeing Daphne helps me decide—I’ll go to dinner at the castle.

  Back in my room, I dress in the green gown and silently thank Jocasta for tucking a pair of high-heeled sandals under the foot of my bed. I can’t do anything elaborate with my hair without a maid, so I take simplicity to a new level and tie it at the nape of my neck with a simple bow. I probably look Kaia’s age, but I don’t really care.

  Delicate sandals. A long, flowing dress. Gold shoulder clasps. A green ribbon.

  This should feel comfortable. Familiar. Instead, it feels like the past is creeping up on me without giving me any choice.

  Anxiety churns in my stomach as I knock on Flynn’s door. Kato is with him. They’re playing cards, and it smarts that I wasn’t invited.

  Squaring my shoulders, I ask, “Do I look all right? I don’t have a mirror.”

  They whistle enthusiastically, and I can’t help blushing.

  “Pretty as a posy. Spin for us,” Flynn says.

  I twirl, throwing them a saucy look over my shoulder.

  “Come sit on my knee,” Kato says, patting his thigh. “So I can inspect.”

  I laugh. “I’m not falling for that.”

  Griffin erupts into the room, filling the entire doorway. “What are you doing in here?” He looks me up and down, his tone a mix of disgruntlement and accusation.

  Heat floods me at the sight of him. Irritation overrides it. “I was having fun ten seconds ago. Now I’m annoyed.”

  “Answer the question,” he grates out.

  My hands land on my hips. “Having a wild orgy. You’re not invited.”

  His eyes narrow dangerously. He turns to leave, and I know I’m supposed to follow.

  “Wait!” I cry in mock alarm. “Where are my underclothes?”

  “Gods, Cat!” Flynn visibly pales.

  Kato barks a laugh.

  Griffin spins back to me. His large hand lands on the nape of my neck with a firm grip, and a jolt of awareness rampages down my spine. I back up when he starts pulling but grab both sides of the doorframe on the way out, hanging on.

  “See what I have to put up with?” I ask.

  Flynn and Kato exchange a look before returning to their card game.

  “Not helpful!” I grind out as Griffin drags me back to my room and tosses me inside.

  “What about dinner?” I ask, rubbing my neck.

  He closes the door and stalks in after me, caging me against the wall with a muscular arm on either side of my head. “Jocasta said she wasn’t sure.”

  I shove his shoulders, which does nothing. “I didn’t dress like this for the refectory.”

  His eyes flick down, taking in my appearance. “What were you doing with them?”

  His blatant jealousy sends a pulse of heat through me that ends in a completely inappropriate place between my legs. “Talking. They’re my friends.”

  “Your team?”

  “Yes! Isn’t that what you want?”

  An expression I can’t read crosses his face. “Does that mean you’ll stay with us if I release you from your vow?”

  My heart thumps an awkward beat. I don’t answer. I don’t know.

  He leans toward me, and suddenly all I can think about is his height, his strength, his scent. I go impossibly still, afraid to move because I know I’ll step closer.

  “I thought about you all day,” he gruffly admits. “Now, seeing you like this…” He inhales between parted lips, his gaze turning ravenous as it drops to the exposed hollow between my breasts. When he exhales, his breath shudders on the way out.

  My reaction is immediate, intense. Some things ignite. Others melt. A deep, almost irresistible pull nearly rocks me toward him. I dread this power he holds over me. It makes me want to tell him all my secrets and see if he still wants me.

  I swallow, banishing the thought. “Let me go.”

  Griffin’s smoldering eyes lift to meet mine. “I’m not holding you.”

  Oh.

  Right.

  Quite.

  I could easily duck under his arm. I wet my lips instead. It’s impossible not to.

  The rumble in his chest sets me alight. It’s predatory. Hungry. Griffin lowers his head until his mouth hovers over the curve of my neck. His warm breath curls lazily over my bare shoulder, and a spray of gooseflesh travels down my arm. Anticipation shivers through me, turning my heartbeat wild as a slow burn spreads through my middle, as languid and intoxicating as mulled wine.

  His lips brush my shoulder and then skim lower, teasing the sensitive skin along the scooped neckline of my gown. The feathery touch makes me quiver. I plant my hands on the wall behind me, palms flat against the cool stone to keep from reaching for him. My nipples harden, straining against the thin material of my dress. He growls something low and fierce, and then his tongue flicks out.

  I gasp, surprise and desire thundering through me. I know exactly where he licked. There’s a freckle high on the inside of my right breast. My breathing turns shallow, almost painful. Griffin’s hands slide down the wall to land on my hips, anchoring me as his mouth moves lower and his lips graze the concealed peak of one breast.

  I draw in a sharp breath, feeling both crests stiffen even more. The mounting throb in my core echoes my galloping pulse. The beat of blood and want. My hands ache to touch him, to slip into his hair, to hold him to me for another hot, shocking touch. A moan rises in my throat, and I bite my lip to stifle it, shifting against the growing pressure, against the restless need to press my body into his.

  Griffin’s tongue slides over the freckle again, and my knees nearly buckle. His husky voice vibrates against my skin. “I’ve been wanting to taste that for weeks.”

  “What does it taste like?” The breathy murmur sounds nothing like me.

&n
bsp; “Like a snowflake on my tongue. So cold it burns.” He lifts his head, his eyes searing. “It tastes like magic. And you.”

  His hands rise to cup my jaw. Wings unfurl inside my rib cage, bigger and stronger than ever before.

  “Don’t kiss me,” I whisper, and the wings stretch in protest.

  His thumbs glide over my cheeks in a tender, sweeping caress that makes my chest ache. “Give me one good reason not to.”

  When he looks at me like this, touches me, it’s hard to think at all. Part of me doesn’t even want to. But there are some things even I can’t ignore. “Alpha Fisa. She’ll kill anyone who gets in her way.”

  “I’ll fight her with you.”

  “You can’t. You’ll die.”

  He shakes his head. “I won’t let her take you from me.”

  I close my eyes, so tired of the fight. Unable to stop myself, I lean my forehead against Griffin’s solid chest. His arms come around me, and just for a moment, I let my body mold to his. “You don’t get it,” I say, my voice muffled by his tunic. “She won’t let anyone take me from her.”

  “You don’t get it.” He sets me back enough to look me in the eyes. “You’re mine. Not Cat the Soothsayer. Not Cat the Kingmaker. Just Cat.”

  I shiver at his words, the chills running both hot and cold.

  “It’s inevitable,” Griffin says softly. His gray eyes are like anchors, weighing down my heart.

  I shake my head. “It’s not.”

  “You were made for me. I know it.”

  I stare at him in stark fear. He believes that. I feel the crushing weight of his truth in my bones.

  “You need time.” He reluctantly steps back, opening the space around me again. “In time, you’ll see. For now, just come with me.” Griffin takes my hand and doesn’t let go until we’re in the dining room. I skip the curtsy and sit in the chair he pulls out for me, too preoccupied to think about etiquette, especially when no one here cares.

  “You’re pale,” Nerissa says, reaching over to pat my hand. “Are you all right?”

  I stare at her plump fingers, resisting the urge to snatch my hand away. “I’m fine.” I look around. “Where’s Anatole?”

  She sits back, worry creasing her brow. “Feeling poorly. He stayed upstairs.”

  “Why don’t you call for a healer?”

  Awkward tension fills the room. “We’re having trouble getting healers to cooperate,” Egeria eventually says.

  Of course. Like most Magoi, they look down on Hoi Polloi, more often than not refusing to help them. “Choose one at random,” I suggest. “If he or she won’t help, hang the healer from the castle gate. The next one won’t refuse.”

  Nerissa’s face reflects her shock. “That’s cruel, dear.”

  That’s life. “How did your tribe deal with dissenters?”

  “Combat with Griffin,” she answers warily.

  “That’ll work.” I take a bite of something wrapped in phyllo. Goat cheese. Yuck! I put what’s left back on my plate and force myself to swallow. The women stare at me, obviously scandalized. I think Piers is, too.

  “I’m not advocating random murder,” I say somewhat defensively. “Ask first. But if a healer refuses to obey for no apparent reason other than snobbery…”

  “A lesson must be learned?” Nerissa supplies.

  I nod.

  “Egeria is Alpha,” Griffin says. “The order would have to come from her.”

  Everyone turns to Egeria—Alpha Sinta. Her soft-gray eyes go wide with alarm, and it’s all I can do not to gag, especially after that goat cheese.

  “I think we’ll keep negotiating for now,” she says softly. “I’m trying to give them incentive to work with us by opening a healing center in Skathos.”

  “Skathos?” I shake my head. “It’s too far south. Healers won’t want to live that far from the Ice Plains. They’re weaker the farther south they go. Not only will they be weaker, and unhappy because of it, but they won’t be able to help as many people because their magic won’t be as strong. Skathos is a terrible idea.” Egeria looks crestfallen, so I quickly add, “Build your healing center farther north. Ios could work.”

  “But what about the south? We don’t want the tribes thinking we’ve abandoned them.”

  I sip my wine, thinking. “If Ios works, you’ll probably get other healers to go south, even if it’s not their preference. Healers are vain and attention hungry. Once Ios gets recognition, and its healers along with it, the ones who initially refused to help will start trying to get their names attached to it. At that point, you can be magnanimous and give them their own healing center—in Skathos.”

  Jocasta smiles at me. “That’s an excellent plan.”

  I smile back. It’s actually not that hard.

  “Griffin also advocated starting in the north,” Egeria says. “He mentioned Ios as well. You two are so well matched. You even think alike.”

  Heat floods my face, and my heart starts pounding like a herd of Centaurs. I don’t look at Griffin. I will not look at Griffin.

  “I would still have to begin construction of both healing centers at the same time,” Egeria continues as if she hadn’t just splattered the issue of Griffin and me across the dinner table. “I don’t want to offend southerners.”

  I try to focus, which is really difficult when the man next to me makes my entire body hum with awareness. “Then build faster in Ios and establish it first. It’ll go faster anyway. Everything is more efficient closer to the magic.”

  “Including you?” Griffin asks.

  “I’m efficient everywhere.”

  “And modest, as usual,” Carver says, tipping his full wineglass in my direction. He sets it down again without drinking.

  I incline my head in acknowledgment. “Lovely to see you again, Carver. Your existence had completely slipped my mind.”

  Kaia chokes on something, probably goat cheese.

  Carver grins. “I’ll remind you tomorrow when I spank you in a sword fight.”

  “Spank me? I doubt you’re immune to magic like your brother is.” A ball of Chimera’s Fire crackles to life in my palm.

  “Cat!” Nerissa says sharply. “Manners, please. And don’t threaten Carver at the dinner table.”

  “He said ‘spank’ first!”

  “You’re the lady. Rise above.”

  “That’s not fair,” I say, sounding suspiciously like a four-year-old.

  Nerissa looks at me like she’s been scolding me since before I could walk. “Who told you life was fair?”

  Good point. I scowl and reabsorb the flames. As soon as she looks away, I glare at Carver and mouth tomorrow.

  Griffin does his best not to laugh—fails—and I kick him under the table.

  Kaia bounces in her seat. “Tell us about the Lost Princess of Fisa.”

  We just started the main course, and I nearly spit out my moussaka. I swallow and clear my throat. “There’s not much to tell. She’s gone, and unless she’s found, or killed, the Fisan royal line after the current Alpha can always be called into question.”

  “But how can she just disappear?” Kaia asks.

  I shrug. “Maybe she went to the Ice Plains.”

  “Then isn’t it likely she’s already dead?” Piers asks.

  “Not everyone who goes to the Ice Plains dies there. I have a friend, Aetos, who survived.”

  “She could have gone to the Lake Oracles,” Griffin says.

  My heart kicks me in the ribs even as I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? An Oracle could help her escape.”

  “That’s assuming she needed help.”

  He swirls the wine in his glass, frowning. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Do you?” The question pops out before I realize I’ve trapped myself.

 
“Yes.” Griffin faces me, his one softly spoken word settling deep inside me. But I see more than need in his eyes. I see desire, and care, and possessiveness, and a whole mess of things I refuse to deal with.

  I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “I don’t.” Denial works. Always has.

  Sort of.

  “What about fangs?” he asks. “And giant hands?”

  Eh…

  “What about fangs and giant hands?” Kaia asks.

  “Nothing!” Carver and I say at once.

  “Well, that’s intriguing.” Egeria eyes us in a way that makes her look exactly like her mother.

  “We’ll start curtsy lessons after dinner,” I announce.

  “Subtle,” Griffin whispers in my ear.

  I swivel my head to give him the evil eye, find us so close our breath mingles, and can’t quite manage it.

  “Excellent idea,” Egeria says. “Especially with the nobles coming soon.”

  What? “When?”

  Her hands flutter nervously above her plate. “In a month’s time. Invitations have already gone out for our first realm dinner.”

  It’s a smart move. Fast. “That will be an important evening.”

  Egeria and Griffin exchange a glance. “It will likely determine whether Sintan Magoi back us, leave us alone, or plot to overthrow us,” she says.

  I nod. “If you really want change, you’re going to have to strike a delicate balance no one has tried before. You’ve got the Hoi Polloi heart of the realm, but Magoi nobles are still the blood, pumping all over the northern half of Sinta to their little fiefdoms where they rule, just like warlords do in the south. Gain their respect, and they may turn into valuable tools. At the very least, gain their indifference to keep them from actively thwarting you. Anything else, and they’ll all be wondering why they aren’t on the throne.”

  “There’s so much to learn,” Egeria frets. “Who they are. What they can do… And then there’s court etiquette. How to greet. How to bow. Who can talk to whom. Everything’s so different in the north and among Magoi.” Her eyes widen in her pale face, and she looks at Griffin like he has all the answers. “What if we’re not ready?”

  “A month is plenty of time to get ready,” he says reassuringly.