Heart on Fire (The Kingmaker Chronicles Book 3)

by Amanda Bouchet

  I kiss my fingertips and then press them against the still-open window to Griffin. As I drop my hand, I wipe the scene from the stone. I won’t leave any part of him here when I go.

  My lightning strike still marks a slashing door in front of me over the valley. The blaze intensifies, as if beckoning me, and my heart pulls me straight toward it. I take a step toward the edge of the ledge. I don’t have any idea how this works, and I can’t see anything beyond the bright tear in the air, but I know Thalyria is on the other side. I hope if I concentrate hard enough on Griffin, I’ll go to him first.

  Soon, though, because I’m not done here yet.

  I turn to Prometheus. This is going to be tough.

  “Fly,” he whispers when our gazes connect. His eyes are bright and alive with something for the first time since the fog lifted and revealed the tortured Titan. It’s happiness. Hope. Not for himself, but for me.

  I smile, my own joy reaching out to meet his. “Not without you, my friend.”

  Two flaps of my wings take me across the space that’s separated us all this time. I hover before him, the steady beat of my feathers fanning us both. Prometheus flinches away from me, pressing himself against the cliff. I understand—a winged creature coming at him usually spells pain and organ loss.

  “Look at me.” I keep my voice soft but firm.

  Slowly, he turns his head, his eyes uncertain now.

  “Do you know the world of Thalyria?”

  He shakes his head, making me wonder where he roamed before he ended up in Tartarus. His story certainly spread. As did his gift of fire.

  “Thalyria is my world. I want to take you there. Will you come with me?”

  His eyes dart to one of the thick chains holding him tightly against the rock wall and then back to me again. I read the question there. His four limbs are shackled to the cliff.

  “I’m going to melt the chains off you. It might hurt.”

  His stare is blank for a moment, but then he gives a quick nod, little more than a jerk of his bearded chin.

  I glance at the air behind me, assuring myself that my vertical door home continues well down toward the valley floor. Once the Titan is loose, we won’t be going up—or even out very far. Wings or no wings, with his weight, we’ll drop.

  Lowering myself, I say, “I’m going to start with this foot.” I touch his bare ankle, finding the skin under his bindings so callused and tough that I wonder if he’ll even feel the burn through the thousands of years of thick, hard skin he’s built up. “Ready?”

  I don’t wait for his answer but call power to my fingertips and try to control the surge of lightning as I grip the shackle with both hands and pull. The metal glows red-hot and grows malleable. I rip it apart, freeing Prometheus’s foot. His skin does blister from the heat, and I’m sorry for it, but he doesn’t say a word. As for me, I feel no pain or burn.

  Gently, I guide his big foot onto the peg-like anchor fixing the chain to the cliff. “Put your weight here,” I tell him.

  Beating my wings to hover steadily, I free his other foot. Slowly, Prometheus bends his knee enough to balance his weight atop the chain’s anchor without my help. I hear his bones creak as he moves, and then he groans. He’s standing for the first time in millennia. The angle on his arms shifts, and he groans louder still, probably as much in pain as relief. Like me, he doesn’t appear to have changed from his original state in any way besides forming the calluses under his bindings. His body is strong and hard, beautifully sculpted and muscled—and likely as heavy as an ox. His mind, though… I have a feeling it’s not nearly as intact.

  A gentle push on the air brings me to eye level with his right wrist. I melt the shackle off, leaving more burns in exchange for his freedom. I press the now-dangling chain into Prometheus’s trembling hand. “Hold this for balance. Don’t let go.”

  I look him hard in the eyes, trying to get him to focus on me and maybe stop shaking. He’s going to rattle us both off the cliff.

  “I need your help,” I say. “It’s very important. Prometheus?”

  He blinks, glances away from me to look at his giant hand gripping the chain, and then brings a steadier gaze back to my face.

  “I don’t think I can hold you up.” Actually, I know I can’t, but there’s a difference between outright lying and not being abysmal. “You need to send us into that light. You see it, don’t you?”

  His eyes jerk to a spot beyond my shoulder and then shift down. He nods, another quick dip of his chin.

  “After I free this hand, you grab me, and you push us off the cliff. You push us right into that light.” The muscles in his legs are enough to make three times the leap I ever could. I just hope they’re not too stiff to work. “I’ll do my best to fly and guide us, but we’re going to fall. You understand that, right?”

  “Fly,” he whispers, and my heart clenches so hard it stops.

  I nod. “Yes. Fly.” Gods, I hope so, anyway. “Flip us so that I’m on top.”

  He nods again, understanding that he needs to twist us in the air, or we’ll end up performing an experiment in upside-down wing use that’s sure to end poorly.

  “What…about…on the…other side?” Prometheus asks haltingly.

  Emotion rips through my chest and steals my breath. It’s the first time he’s said anything but fly, and to me, his rusty voice is sweeter than a song.

  “I’m going to think really hard about arriving down low,” I answer. “And hope for the best.” Because really, what else can I do?

  His eyes search mine, and for the first time, I notice their color—a rich hazel that seems to mix every palette of the earth and sky. Back to a whisper, he says, “Thank you.”

  I smile, even though this huge, generous, damaged male tears me up inside. “Don’t thank me yet. We still might fall to our deaths.”

  He frowns, and his hand twitches like he wants to release his grip on the chain and reach for me. He doesn’t. “Don’t say that, firebird. I would let go of you first.”

  And then I would fly. Oh Gods damn it, I’m going to cry. Prometheus—ever selfless, willing to sacrifice his eternity for the comfort of man.

  I swallow, my throat thick. Well, his punishment is over. Today, I make sure his life begins again.

  “Don’t you dare let go,” I say fiercely, my voice unsteady and low. “We’ll make it out. Together.”

  He doesn’t deny or confirm. He doesn’t even give me that bumpy jerk of his chin.

  “Ready?” I ask, taking hold of the final chain and letting my hands begin to heat. I don’t wait for an answer any more than I did the first time. I melt the metal until I can pry it apart, and Prometheus grabs the loose chain, steadying himself.

  We’re not touching yet, but I see and feel him gathering himself before me, getting lower and winding up tight so that he can spring off his footholds in one sudden burst.

  I take a deep breath. Here goes everything. “Go!” I shout.

  With a roar, Prometheus lets go of the shackles that have bound him for lifetimes and throws his arms around my waist. At the same time, he uses his muscular legs to propel us outward and send us both flying out over the valley. He heaves his great weight to one side, and we spin in the air so that I’m on top.

  “Umph!” My whole body goes vertical, with Prometheus dangling from his crushing grip. His colossal weight drags us both down fast, but he jumped far enough out that we’re almost to the door. I beat my wings, straining feverishly, and somehow bring us closer to the fissure between Tartarus and Thalyria. Gritting my teeth, I flap hard and push. I’ll get us there. I swear to the Gods, I will.

  We plummet toward the bottom of the bright line in the sky, and I grip Prometheus’s shoulders so hard I’ll leave marks. There’s no way I’m letting him go. I have more lightning, but every instinct in me screams that this first blast I shot into the gray is my one
and only door. That power was a one-time deal—my reward. The gate will close behind me, and I won’t have that ability anymore. If we fall too far, I can fly back up here, even from the valley floor, but I could never lift my passenger again. This is Prometheus’s only chance.

  But what about Sisyphus? And that starving man with his fruit? I feel a moment of panic that I can’t take more people with me but then push it aside. I can’t save everyone. But I’ll save the one I can.

  With a scream and a mighty flap of wings I feel all the way to my toes, I fly us the few more feet we need to tumble through the very base of the lightning door. We’re both shouting now, the Titan’s mammoth arms clamped around my waist, my wings stretched out and pounding hard. We hurtle down a long tunnel with blinding, white-hot walls. Through it all, I somehow manage to envision a lot of things. Griffin. The inner courtyard of Castle Tarva. Not being far above the ground. I even manage a big, fat, rude hand gesture directed right at Zeus along with a Ha! and an I took your prisoner, and I am not giving him back!

  And just when I’m at my most irreverent, an all-encompassing, bearded male fills the space around us. Deeply powerful eyes settle first on me and then on my hulking cargo. It’s Zeus. This time, I’m sure of it. He nods to us, as if we did something right, not terrible. A similar male with a golden trident appears and mouths words I can’t hear, looking satisfied and even happy. Another figure soon joins them, as if called to the gathering in this huge and distorted space between worlds. The newcomer is sleek, shadowed, and sinfully attractive—the Lord of the Underworld, I have no doubt.

  Seeming pleased by the turn of events, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades all nod to each other and then blink out of my awareness, leaving only the blinding flashes and branching crackles of the passageway around us.

  But then a weightlessness grips us, arresting all motion. I draw in a sharp breath at the sudden change in velocity, and Prometheus tightens his hold on me, as if afraid we’ll drift apart. All goes suddenly dark.

  I blink, trying to adjust my sight. No, not just dark. Night. And there are torches all around us.

  The weightlessness abruptly disappears, and we drop, falling straight into the heart of Thalyria.

  CHAPTER 29

  There’s hardly time to gasp before we land in a bone-jarring heap. Prometheus takes the brunt of the fall, and I come down on top of him. He doesn’t breathe at all, both sides of him punched hard. I recover first and scramble off him, getting my weight off his chest. His first inhale wheezes in his throat. His second doesn’t sound much better, but it goes deeper, expanding his lungs. He sits up with a grimace, and guards close in. About twenty blades aim for his throat.

  “No!” I throw out my arms, shielding him. Getting to Prometheus means going through me. Everyone stops instantly.

  But no one stops yelling. The yelling is deafening. It’s pandemonium. Celebration. “Queen Catalia! Queen Catalia!” My ears ring with my own name, and the noise is an uproar I can hardly bear after the dullness of Tartarus.

  I inch closer to Prometheus, letting his massive body buffer me from some of the overwhelming welcome. Maybe I’m shielding him as well. He doesn’t look any more comfortable than I feel.

  Kaia is the first of the family to race into the courtyard. I see her beyond Prometheus’s big shoulder, her cloak barely tied together over her nightgown and her long hair streaming down her arms. I see her eyes widen as she stumbles to a stop. I see the moment she realizes through the dark and the racket and the happy roar that the man with me isn’t the one she so desperately wants. I see her heart break all over again, and mine can’t do anything but break along with it.

  She looks away, hiding her tears.

  “Kaia!” My voice rings out sharply—too sharply—but I need to shout to be heard. The din diminishes, and everyone waits for me to speak again.

  Kaia turns back to me, blinking hard.

  “I need your help.”

  At first, she stares blankly, as if she doesn’t understand my words. But then she nods and moves forward again, the guards making way for her. She reaches me as I stand, and we wrap our arms around each other, squeezing hard. I let go first, knowing we’re both on the verge of losing control. We could collapse in on each other and weep for years, but what good would that do? It won’t bring Kato back. And it won’t win our war.

  Kaia’s teary eyes take in my wings as she draws back, but she doesn’t say a word.

  Prometheus rises to stand beside me, towering over us both. Over the guards. Over everyone. He even towers over Flynn, who arrives in the courtyard followed closely by Jocasta. Carver sprints out on their heels. My heart swells to near bursting at the sight of them—all hale and whole.

  They surround me. Then the crushing, joyful, heart-wrenching hugs begin. I revel in them, in the human contact, in the love I feel. This is my family. This is where I belong.

  But the most important person for me is missing. Where’s Griffin?

  I glance up, ignoring the battery of questions—Are you okay? Who is this? Where were you? What happened?—and my eyes find Griffin’s as he stares down at me from the darkened window of the marble tower. My heart breathes a sigh of relief, and I suddenly know with absolute certainty that this castle will be my home. This is where I’ll raise my family. This is where I’ll live instead of just exist.

  Griffin is like a statue framed by the shadowed alcove, unmoving, his hands braced upon the windowsill, his eyes burning dark. He looks down at me. He stares and stares like he sees both a dream and a ghost.

  My chest tightens, and my eyes grow hot. There’s such a rush of emotions inside me that I couldn’t ever begin to define them all. The combination, though—it’s happiness unlike I’ve ever known.

  Anatole and Nerissa fly toward me, and I tear my eyes from Griffin’s so that I can embrace them both. I hug everyone again—Jocasta, Flynn, Carver, Kaia—just because I want to and I can. When I pull back, though, it’s hard not to fall into the gaping hole where Kato should have been, completing our circle with his light and humor and selfless loyalty.

  Bellanca stomps over, saving me from fracturing from Kato’s loss all over again.

  The Tarvan ex-princess awkwardly pats my shoulder with a heavy, thudding hand, her eyes cruising over my white-black wings before meeting my gaze with frank annoyance. “I could punch you,” she says.

  I circle her wrist with my fingers and squeeze, stopping her clumsy pounding. “I missed you, too.” Some of the time. I ignore any lingering feelings of betrayal. Her time with Griffin was an illusion, a lie that was neither of their faults.

  She scowls. “It’s been almost a month. You scared everyone. Your husband’s a mess.”

  I huff, smiling faintly. Trust Bellanca to tell it like it is. I have a feeling I can thank her for holding a lot of things together while I was gone. She’s a rock. A blunt, hard, strong-as-granite rock.

  I let go of her wrist. “Thank you for being here.”

  She looks shocked at first but then shrugs, as if whatever she’s been doing is nothing at all. Briefly, I wonder where her sister is. Little Lystra. Probably still hiding in her room.

  I look up at Griffin again. He hasn’t moved. Our eyes meet, and as anxious as I am to wrap my arms around him and kiss him until I can’t breathe, we’ll both have to wait.

  Among us, there’s only one person who has truly lost her anchor. I’m going to give her a new one, different, but desperately in need of someone right now. And I know for a fact he weighs a ton.

  “This is Prometheus,” I announce.

  Everyone gasps—the family, Beta Team, the guards. Since stealing fire from Mount Olympus and giving it to mankind was kind of a big deal for humanity, thus birthing Fire Magic as well, the old legend of Prometheus and his gory punishment at the hands of Zeus is one that people actually still talk about, hear, and share.

  “Prometheus”—I gestu
re widely, encompassing all the people for whom I care so deeply—“this is my family.”

  The Titan, an ancient God, looks carefully at the men and women he saw me embrace, and I know he’s memorizing the faces of the people he’ll watch over for generations, them and their sons and daughters beyond. He’s been tortured for eons. His brethren are all in Tartarus, either tormented or horrifically bored. All separated. Just memories in his sea of endless pain. His past. Ahead of him, he has an infinite expanse of life, a new home, and no purpose—except for us.

  “Kaia, I need you to bring Prometheus to the bathhouse. While he’s bathing, oversee preparations for a room in the family wing and make sure there’s food.” The big Titan’s stomach growls for the first time in millennia at the mention of a meal. “Lots of food. And find him new clothes.” He only has a scrap of a bottom, and that’s bloodstained and worn. Finding something big enough might be a challenge, though. Even one of Griffin’s or Flynn’s tunics would probably split right down the back the second he moved.

  Kaia nods, her blue-gray eyes less vague and shattered now that she has something to do. Her quiet voice is still noticeably rough, though. “I’ll have some things made up as soon as possible. I know who to ask.”

  “It might not be easy for Prometheus to adjust to life here, with us, to being with people again. Can you help him with that?” I ask.

  Kaia nods again, but she’s not the only one. All my friends and family will help.

  Prometheus may look like a solid mountain of a male, and I have no doubt he can snap heads with one hand if he wants to—and I’m kind of counting on it, to be honest—but after what he’s been through, there are bound to be layers of fragility underneath.

  “I left my tutor behind just when he was getting to the War of Gods. Maybe you can tell me what happened?” Kaia’s voice gains in strength, and she looks hopefully at Prometheus now.