The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel

by Sloane Calder

  “I’ll know soon.” She started to leave but stopped, her back to Seanair. “I know he’s watching us.” She took back her glass and turned her face up to his. “I can’t say anything yet, but if my mother’s right, some serious shit might be going down.”

  Elspeth climbed from the taxi, Aleron following behind her, and made her way to the private entrance for Le Bernardin. Seanair reserved the salon often, preferring its privacy and dedicated waitstaff over that of the main restaurant’s dining room. She stopped several feet from the entrance, flexing her hand and staring at the magnificent diamond weighting her finger.

  Goddess, it was happening. Really and truly happening. Beneath the awning, the stone caught the glow of the heated torches, a slash of light hitting her eyes. She made it into the elevator, not looking at Aleron, not thinking about what and who awaited her. The landslide had started, pulling her with it, down a terrible, steep hill to her wedding day. No more delays. No more wishing it wouldn’t happen.

  She stepped from the elevator and stopped outside the glass door.

  “Is something wrong?” Aleron’s low voice vibrated inside her, the short distance he’d maintained between them miles wide.

  How did she explain the emptiness? How could she describe that when she tried to predict her future, the answer was a desolate landscape of nothing and no one meaningful? Her life would be devoid of sparks. And it would be a life she’d chosen because there was no other choice. Her dream had truly died. She’d hoped to grow to love Yuri, but first she had to get to like.

  A photo album starring the man at her back flipped its pages in her mind. The surprising softness of his hair. His smile at lemon meringue. His wrath in the alley. His brown eyes staring down at her. His mouth on hers. His arms around her at the gala.

  All of that was destined for nothing but memory now.

  “In a different time, place, and life, I wouldn’t choose this. I would be exploring things with you and hoping they’d lead where I want them to go.” Her body hollowed, like the words had drained her dry.

  A labored breath cut the silence.

  “Elspeth—”

  “It’s true.” She faced him, not willing to make excuses anymore. “I’ve accepted my fate, but I won’t lie and say it’s what I want. We have something, and it could be good. Amazing. I’m thankful to at least know chemistry is an actual, tangible thing and that I’ve experienced it once. With you.”

  He looked to the floor and back to her. His brown eyes burned a rose red, and his gaze softened, holding hers so gingerly, his stoic mask falling away. “You are my one good surprise.” His jaw firmed. “I’ll give you my private cell. If you ever need me, for anything, call, text, whatever, and I will come to you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll stop the world to get to you.”

  She nodded, unable to look at him any longer. As the foolish wish of having him faded away, she couldn’t dream of him any longer or stare.

  “I have to go in.” If she didn’t step away now, she’d do something she shouldn’t.

  Aleron’s phone buzzed. “Seanair’s pulled up, and Yuri’s already inside.” He toyed with the ends of her hair. “You look beautiful.”

  “I’m dressed for a funeral.”

  He smiled, a sinister one that would scare the fire out of even the most powerful Natura. “Maybe you’ll send the subliminal message that if he ever does anything to make you unhappy, it’ll be his funeral.”

  After growing up with two hotheaded brothers and an overbearing grandfather, she hadn’t thought she’d be attracted to someone heavy-handed, but she loved Aleron’s ferocity. His loyalty. His dependability.

  If he pledged to have someone’s back, he’d have it in spades.

  She had no doubt he would scorch the earth—for her, and not because she was a Lennox.

  Her gaze shifted to his scar and the files she’d read but didn’t want to wholly believe. She could sense it now, Aleron’s hatred on constant simmer, the truth a harsh line he saw every day and one she now couldn’t deny.

  She didn’t know her grandfather. She’d bought into the facade he’d carefully constructed. She’d believed him on those few instances when she’d asked about the rumors about her family. Perhaps she’d been naïve, so determined to prove herself that she hadn’t questioned further when things didn’t sound right. She’d been so focused on people-pleasing, she’d been used, manipulated, and—Goddess, what a horrific lie she’d swallowed.

  Now wasn’t the time, but she would tell Aleron she knew the truth and ask him how she could help. Nothing would bring his father back, but maybe… She needed time to sort through the situation.

  She took his hand in hers, squeezing it like she’d never let go. “Thank you. For everything. You’re a good man, Aleron. The best.”

  He stiffened and cut his gaze away from her. “Kazumi wants to know where you’re eating. I’m texting her the location. Will you cover for me if it comes up?”

  “Of course.” She tightened her grip, not knowing why Zum would crash the dinner since she despised Seanair.

  A chime sounded.

  Aleron stepped back and folded his hands behind him as the elevator doors opened.

  Seanair strode into the small lobby with three guards in tow. “Station yourselves at the downstairs entrance,” he ordered over his shoulder. “No one comes up without my permission.”

  “Yes, sir,” one of the men answered, the others following him back into the elevator.

  “Good evening, Elspeth.” Seanair gave her a perfunctory nod like she was an acquaintance. “You’re dressed rather harshly this evening. I much preferred your dress at the Plaza.” He took in her black, long-sleeved shift and classic pumps.

  “I’m dressed for business.” And the demise of my dream. “This is a transaction, and I want no doubts that I’ll honor the terms.”

  “Of course you will.” Seanair turned to Aleron. “You’ll remain out here.”

  “I want him in the room,” she countered, wanting him in sight. “Yuri’s guard will be in there.”

  And she couldn’t let him go. Not yet.

  Goddess, not yet.

  Seanair’s gaze cut to Aleron. “Very well. I love a good reminder of who’s more powerful. Keeps things civil.”

  Aleron’s expression remained perfectly plain. “Are you ready, sir?”

  “Yes.” Seanair turned to Elspeth. “I’ll do the talking tonight.”

  Didn’t he always?

  “As you wish.” She longed for the Grandie she’d loved with all her heart before Mathair’s passing.

  Aleron opened the glass door. Seanair went in first, and she followed, feeling the barest touch on the back of her shoulder, a you-got-this graze she hadn’t realized she needed.

  “Elspeth. Seanair.” Yuri stood at the circular table set in the room’s center, his guard stationed at the far end of the long room.

  Etched-glass windows spanned one of the walls, the wood-coffered ceiling elegant, the room’s soft lighting perfect for a sophisticated experience. Three simple place settings with black chargers, silverware, two wineglasses, and a champagne flute sat atop the white tablecloth. A blown-crystal vase graced the center, filled with red and orange mixed flowers with ribbons of greenery.

  She took the spot to Yuri’s right, leaning in to give a hurried kiss to his cheek. He turned his face at the last minute, his mouth brushing hers, and it took everything she had to keep from slapping him.

  Goddess, he’d better be glad she had no power.

  He stepped around her and shook Seanair’s hand. “I’m glad the three of us can spend time together. I’m returning home tomorrow to handle a situation. My father has died.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Argh. Foot in mouth. She hadn’t known King Mikhail had been ill, yet Yuri’s tone had sounded as if an ivy hadn’t been watered and been relegated to the compost pile.

  Or maybe he’d been counting the days until he could take the throne.

  “I believe he’
s been ill for some time. My condolences.” Seanair’s reply came off as if an old car had finally conked out. “I believe congratulations are also in order, Your Highness.”

  They all settled at the table.

  “Thank you.” Yuri brushed his hand down her arm. “I must return for the state funeral and other events, but I will not allow for a delay of our wedding.” He took a drink of water. “I hope a quick announcement of an heir will ease my…our subjects’ mourning.”

  “I’d like nothing more than to be a great-grandfather. I’d have much to teach the little one.” Seanair’s blue eyes glittered with warning.

  A waiter walked in carrying an uncorked bottle of red wine.

  “I went ahead and asked him to let it breathe,” Yuri proclaimed, like he’d cured the humans’ cancer. “Shall we toast?”

  “Of course.” Seanair leaned forward, his tone as if the idea had been his.

  A man in a superbly cut suit circled the table, adding a small serving to Yuri’s glass. He swirled, sniffed, and tasted, finally nodding his approval. The sommelier filled her glass first and made the rounds, then backed away in perfect subservience.

  She forced her mouth to maintain what she hoped was a semblance of a smile, noticing the strain between Yuri and Seanair, wondering if she’d unconsciously winced at everything they’d both said or if her expression screamed hell no to having Yuri’s baby.

  She had to join the conversation, add something here and there. Regardless of Seanair’s directive to keep quiet, she wasn’t about to give Yuri the belief that she wouldn’t have a voice as his wife.

  Aleron stood directly across from her seat, to the right of the door, his stare focused over her shoulder. Her throat tightened with a ball of building regret. How selfish she’d been to demand he stay in the room. He didn’t deserve to hear this bullshit, and here she’d made sure his face would be rubbed in it.

  “To my bride, a great beauty who’ll make a beloved queen.” Yuri raised his glass.

  “And to Russia’s new king. Long may he reign for the good of our people.” She nodded in acknowledgment, certain she wouldn’t get a drop of wine down.

  “Cheers.” Seanair clinked his glass against hers and took a sip. “Now that we’ve attended to social niceties, I’d like to know how the treatment is coming and when we’ll receive the remainder of the protocol.”

  “According to my mother, her people have prepared the remaining documentation and updated our records.”

  “Your mother runs the program?” She didn’t remember that information being in the original correspondence.

  “Yes. She’s a scientist. My parents met in London at university many years ago. She’s the brains behind the technology utilizing much of the same procedures as the human bone marrow transplant. It’s believed the marrow’s where the third power is housed, so it’s removed and replaced with that of a healthy Natura. She’s quite optimistic, as everyone who’s received the procedure has survived. The fact we’ve stopped the deaths is quite a feat, given what’s occurred in other countries.”

  She’d earn Seanair’s death stare, but she’d ask anyway. “If it’s that promising, why haven’t you shared it with other nations? Every Natura wants the disease eliminated.”

  Yuri gave her a warm smile. “They’re going to love you, you know. My mother wasn’t embraced by our people, as she valued science over her royal duties. But that turned out for the best, I believe. I’d love nothing more than for my country to claim this victory. We’re maligned because we keep to ourselves, but our first duty is to our own people.”

  Goddess, not the nationalistic crap the humans practiced. One planet. One people. Maybe she’d be able to effect change by raising little global citizens and being a face for the Russians in Natura circles.

  Seanair and Yuri engaged in small talk as the waitstaff wheeled in a tray, placing napkins in their laps and plates of mixed greens on the chargers.

  Her stomach turned. She reached for her water, half listening to them talk, and took in her future husband. His tousled, blond hair swept back from his forehead as though he’d combed his fingers through it. His forest-green eyes seemed somehow lighter, brighter maybe. Yuri Burkov was handsome. From what she could tell, he was all toned muscle beneath his open-necked dress shirt and cashmere jacket. She wasn’t sure how she’d ever have sex with him. Well, the how, yes. But there was zero sexual attraction on her end.

  Seanair’s phone rang. He pulled it from his Lennox-plaid jacket and frowned.

  “Excuse me a moment.” He stood and walked to the end of the long room.

  “Notice anything different about me?” A knowing grin lit Yuri’s face.

  No. Crap. She had to say something.

  “You look nice tonight, but you looked nice the day we met.” She held out her hand, hoping he’d focus on the ring and the coat of polish she’d slapped on her fingernails.

  “It’s my eyes.” He gaped at her with an intensity that sent a shiver through her. “They changed after the couple’s shower. I noticed in the car. They’re the shade of yours.”

  “Oh.” She blamed her lack of interest in him for forgetting Natura biology. “I’m fertile.” Quick mental calendar math estimated her at a week past her ovulation cycle, which meant she’d be in the exact same condition when they married about three weeks from now. She shot up a quick prayer to the Goddess, thanking her for giving Natura women control over their reproductive choices.

  “I notified my physician after we met yesterday, and he charted you’d likely be able to conceive during our honeymoon.”

  Her heart pitched straight for her stomach.

  “And we’re quite compatible. The blood sample you had to submit as part of the physical—it was shipped to me, and I drank it.”

  She picked up her water glass and cut a glance at Aleron.

  She caught the flash in his gaze, his two mantles ablaze. Blue fire. Hotter even than white. Shit. Lach had told her early on that blue fire was bad news.

  “I had no idea you could—”

  “Blood sampling’s something royals do, to test compatibility before they marry. If I’d taken ill, we’d not have been a match. Our children will be incredibly powerful.”

  She’d lost the will to respond or care. Goddess, she just wanted this night to be over.

  Seanair came toward the table. “We have visitors coming up, Masako Fukada and her daughter. I’m hoping they’re only going to extend their best wishes, but I’m curious how they knew we were here.”

  Her grandfather looked straight at her, his eyes alight with censure.

  “I texted Kazumi where we were. We’re going to get together when we’re done here,” she lied, hoping her grandfather wouldn’t inquire any further.

  “You know how I feel about her.”

  “She’s my best friend.”

  “I believe you mean troublemaker.” Seanair frowned. “You seem upset. Anything else you need to tell me?”

  My fiancé told me he could knock me up right now.

  “Not upset, a little nervous. Yuri and I were speaking about…children, and I know nothing about being a mother.” She turned to Yuri. “I lost mine when I was young, and my grandmother raised me.”

  “Your Mathair loved you dearly,” Seanair crooned, a glimpse of the Grandie she remembered shining through. “Of all the grandchildren, you were her favorite. I’m sure you’ll remember the things she taught you when the time is right.” He looked to Yuri, then her, knowledge alight in his ice-blue eyes. “I’ll be most pleased when this good news comes to pass.”

  Great. Now everyone was on the same page that she could get pregnant. Goddess, she wanted to dive out the window, but opted for picking up her wineglass and taking a big ol’ swig.

  Aleron turned and opened the door.

  Masako Fukada walked in, the undertow of presence rippling from her belied by her conservative navy suit. Kazumi came up beside her, dressed for a night on the town, her hair mussed like she’d been running,
her glare a riptide of anger for Yuri.

  Ms. Fukada bent at the waist, bowing in traditional Japanese custom. “Good evening, Seanair. My apologies for interrupting your evening. Unfortunately, I bring disturbing news of which I don’t believe you’re aware.”

  Elspeth looked to the table as a ripple disturbed the water in her glass, the liquid spinning, a small funnel teasing the center.

  “Do go on.” Seanair sat back in his chair and crossed his legs.

  “My connections within my element extend all over the world, even to your country.” The Water Magnus looked to Yuri and then Seanair.

  Kazumi’s gaze cut to hers.

  “The Russians’ treatment,” Masako continued, her tone smooth, “while promising, contains a flaw. While it’s true none of the treatment’s recipients have died, they also haven’t awakened. They’re all in comas, Seanair. I’m sorry.”

  Elspeth jerked her gaze to her grandfather. “Did you know this?”

  Fear sliced though Seanair’s blue eyes. He did care for Lach. Goddess, he really, truly still cared for the grandson he used to play tennis with for hours.

  “I did not.” His narrowed gaze swerved to Yuri. “Is this true?”

  Her grandfather knew everything. Everything. This whole thing had to be a trick, just as Lach and Aleron and Kazumi had insisted.

  “I don’t know.” Yuri toyed with his silverware. “But my father’s last words to me make sense now. He said, ‘Better to go an earthquake than a ripple.’”

  The room seemed to shrink, the air heavy and thick.

  Those were King Mikhail’s wise last words? His last official photo was probably of him shirtless and bareback on a horse.

  Everything around her muted. There was no treatment. Not one Lach would take or she could imagine. Her brother, lifeless, hooked up to machines?

  Never.

  Her brother had nothing now. Nothing. Her plans, her goal, the one thing she could do was…gone. She had no power, no way to help him, no alternative but to watch him die. As long as she’d had an option, she’d had hope—which had gone up in a twist of smoke.