A Promise of Fire (5 page)

He looks at me intently, leaning slightly forward. His hands curl at his sides, almost as if he’s resisting touching me again. “That’s why I went searching across Sinta for Magoi, but no one felt right. Not until you. You felt exactly right.” His voice deepens in pitch, smoothing over me like a velvety secret I shouldn’t want to know.

My breathing shallows. Strange sensations dart through me, and I stupidly echo, “Exactly right?”

He nods. “I need someone in my inner circle, someone who will make other Magoi think twice about rebelling. Someone who might even make them wonder what I have to offer. Someone powerful and trustworthy.”

I blink, stunned by his apparent blind faith in me. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know you’re the Kingmaker, and I also know you didn’t hesitate to put yourself in danger to protect a southern Sintan Hoi Polloi stranger and his men.”

Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! Why did I do that?
Stupid Medusa’s Dust. Stupid Basil. Stupid
me
!

Beta Sinta’s eyebrows draw together in a sudden frown. “Don’t do that again.”

I snort. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

He nods, like I didn’t just splash him with the acid in my voice.

“Come.” The conversation about upending my entire life for his political gain evidently over, he tugs on the rope. I have two options—put one foot in front of the other, or get dragged around. I put one foot in front of the other.

Once the horses are seen to, Beta Sinta sends Kato and Carver hunting and tells Flynn to guard the camp. Flynn has been carrying my satchel, and I grit my teeth while Beta Sinta goes through it, tossing my stuff around like he owns it. He sniffs my citrus soap, takes out the throwing knives and hands them to Flynn, goes through the pockets of my different pairs of pants, and then lobs the bag at me. “Time to get rid of your stink.”

I glare at him. “Charming.”

“Warlords don’t need charm.”

Maybe not, but royals do.

He leads me to the stream and looks at me expectantly. It turns into an epic staring match, and I finally throw my hands up in frustration, despising myself for cracking first. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to strip naked and bathe in front of you.”

“Turn invisible.”

“I won’t even make it to the water with four feet of rope!”

“True.” He pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a sculpted torso, powerful and scattered with scars. Most of them are small, but there’s a big one under his left arm, snaking around his rib cage from the back. The skin is jagged and raised, a shade lighter than the rest of his sun-browned hide. No healer mended that. “I’ll bathe, too.”

My eyes lock on the hard ridges of his abdomen.
He’s not serious.
His belt drops to the grass.
He is!

He starts sliding his pants down his hips, and I vanish in a panic, taking Beta Sinta into invisibility with me. His clothes reappear in a neat pile to my left just before his voice rumbles out of thin air. “Tug on the rope when you’re ready. And don’t forget the soap.”

With my heart racing like a herd of Centaurs, I need a moment to recover the power of speech. “Use your own soap!”

“Yours smells better.”

My jaw drops, not that he can see. Of all the weird and uncomfortable situations I’ve ever been in, this one tops the list. I’m about to get naked with a Hoi Polloi Beta Sinta. Mother would have a fit, which almost makes being here worth it.

That in mind, I unbuckle my belt and pull off my tunic. My boots follow, but I can’t for the life of me get out of my pants. Not sure what else to do, I throw my tunic back over my head, and we reappear. Beta Sinta is a lot closer than I expected, and he whirls, his elbow colliding with my chin.

“Cat!” He reaches out to steady me as pain rockets through my jaw. One warm hand curls around my shoulder. The other tilts my face up, inspecting the hit. “Are you hurt?”

I bat his hand away. Of course I’m hurt, but one bash in the face isn’t the worst I’ve had.

He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

What isn’t?
I flush hot and red and focus on his chest. It’s a pretty spectacular chest. I refuse to look lower. I close my eyes and mumble, “I can’t get my pants off.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he laughs—
really
laughs—and my eyes fly to his face. I ball up my fist, wondering what he’d do if I hit
him
in the chin.

Still chuckling, Beta Sinta says, “Don’t look so furious. I’ll help.”

“Stop laughing,” I demand through clenched teeth.

Surprisingly, he makes an effort. His lips press together, but his eyes stay bright, leaving an intriguing mix of humor and hardness on his face.

I take a deep breath and reluctantly uncurl my fist. Right now, Beta Sinta is the lesser of two evils.

His eyes drop to my chin again. “You handled that hit well. Like a man.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? The last thing I want is to be hairy and stupid.”

He grins, surprising me. “Not everyone knows how to take a hit. Personal experience?”

I don’t respond. I’m not about to spill my life’s story.

Beta Sinta shakes his head. “Cat, this doesn’t have to be—”

“Don’t bother.” I hold up my hand, cutting him off. I close my eyes again since I don’t want an eyeful and then sit, leaning back on my elbows. The second I sense him reaching for me, I turn us invisible.

“How am I supposed to help you if I can’t see you?” he asks.

“I’m right in front of you,” I mutter. “Do it by feel.”

He grumbles something that sounds like “stubborn soothsayer” before one hand lands heavily on my stomach, just below my breasts. His fingers slide toward my hips, bumping over the rope. Shivers skate across my skin. I feel warmth through my tunic and then calluses as he pushes the material aside. Tension locks me in place. Having Beta Sinta’s hand on me is strange and disturbing. I’m repulsed.
Definitely
repulsed.

His other hand joins the first, sending a jolt of heat through me. I press my lips together, wholly unsettled.

It takes a few hard tugs before I’m finally free. “I’m going to burn those,” I groan in relief.

“Don’t.” His disembodied voice carries a rough edge. “I like them.”

His tone nearly scares the magic out of me. The last thing I need is to get distracted, lose my invisibility, and end up sprawled naked on the ground with Beta Sinta.

I blink, banishing the image. “All the more reason to burn them.”

“I’m not your enemy, Cat.”

I scramble back as far as the rope will let me. “Everyone is my enemy.”

Silence. I guess he has nothing to say to that. I throw off my tunic, pick up my soap, and tug on the rope.

The stream is revitalizing despite not being as cold as I’d like, and the water helps wash away the memory of a hard, hot hand sliding down my belly, of rough fingers on my hips, dipping under my—

Stop!

Flushing, I scrub every inch of myself, feeling like I can finally breathe again without my layers of cosmetics and yet dreading being seen without them. When I grudgingly give the soap to Beta Sinta, it’s an awkward exchange in which we grope for each other’s hands and touch way too much skin. While he’s washing, I float, the rope keeping me close.

“That’s not helpful,” he gripes, giving the rope a hard tug.

I zip through the current, stream water washing over my face. “Too bad,” I sputter, letting myself drift back downstream.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Cold?” I almost laugh. “I grew up swimming in the snowmelt from the Ice Plains. This is a thermal bath to me.”

His pause makes me realize what I just gave away.
Filters, Cat. Filters.
They don’t seem to exist around him. Even southerners know the most powerful Magoi come from that far north. And from Fisa, to boot.

“Let’s go,” Beta Sinta eventually says, climbing the bank and dragging me with him.

“I don’t have a drying cloth.”

“Use your tunic.” He must sweep his hand toward my clothes because his fingers accidentally brush my lower back. He inhales sharply, and I jump forward, shocked and confused by the strange sensation of lightning webbing out under my skin from the point of contact. I’m suddenly way too hot, with a pounding heart, and wondering what the not-altogether-unpleasant but very real zapping is all about.

Tingling from head to toe, I release a slow breath, hating that it shudders on the way out. “My tunic’s too dirty.”

“Then use mine,” he offers gruffly.

Biting my lip, I scoop up his tunic and gingerly pat myself dry. The masculine scent of salt and sunshine teases my nose and imprints on my skin, lingering when I wish it wouldn’t. When I’m done, I toss the shirt down, aiming for a spot where the grass is thin. As luck would have it, the tunic reappears sweaty face-print up. Beta Sinta sees it for the first time and curses.
Ha!

His tunic disappears again along with the rest of his clothing.

Ridiculously warm, I take my time combing and braiding my hair, trying to soak up the relative coolness of the evening air.

Beta Sinta curses softly under his breath. “What in the Underworld is taking you so long?”

I don’t answer and get dressed slowly, knowing it’ll irk him. I also can’t believe he’s about to see me without my face paints on.

Finally, I can’t stall anymore. “Here I come. And you too,” I add, doing my best to sound like I’m sucking on a lemon.

We pop back into sight, and he looks me over with disconcerting thoroughness, something hot and alarming in his gaze.

I blush, and the warmth in my cheeks makes me want to hit him. Or kick dirt in his face. “What?”

He flashes me a lopsided grin, brief and tinged with surprise. “You’re a lot younger than I thought.”

My face is clean, unmasked, and my sable hair is drawn back in a simple braid tied with a leather cord and swinging halfway down my back. I’m wearing loose, brown traveling pants, soft leather boots, and a light-green, sleeveless tunic that does nothing to hide the scars on my arms. I wonder if Beta Sinta knows what they are. I haven’t been this exposed outside the circus’s protection in eight years, and it terrifies me almost as much as the heated look in Beta Sinta’s eyes.

Awareness thunders through me, unwelcome. The longer he stares at me with that smoldering intensity, the wilder the tiny, sizzling flames licking through my lower abdomen become. After a moment of utter stillness, when I’m shockingly conscious of my own rampaging heartbeat, he turns and walks away.

With Beta Sinta’s back to me, I remember to breathe again. Brutally forcing my inner turmoil into the
do not open ever
compartment of my brain, I follow, dragging my feet to make him shorten his stride every time the rope cuts into his hips.

Carver, Flynn, and Kato stare at me when we arrive back at the camp. “Who are you, and what have you done with Cat?” Flynn jokes.

I throw him a sour look. “She’s out chasing mice.”

Carver looks at me and then at his brother. The silent communication that passes between the two men sets my nerves on edge. When I escape, I need a new disguise. Forty and curvy just got busted. Well, forty anyway.

Last night, surrounded by friends and the glow of the circus torches, I thought the warlord couldn’t intimidate me. I thought I was safe. Hidden.

It turns out I’m an idiot.

I’ve never had the best sense of direction, but even I know we’ve passed the same egg-shaped boulder twice on the third day after my abduction.

“Why are we going in circles?” I ask. The rope is as short as ever. There are about three inches between Beta Sinta’s back and my front. And he’s so bloody hot! Sitting this close to him makes me want to dump snow over his head.

“We’re being followed.”

My heart jolts in my chest. Are Aetos and Selena coming for me?

I doubt it. They read my note. They would think about it, fight about it, but in the end, they would leave me be.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“I saw smoke from a campfire twice in the last two days.”

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

“That’s why we’re going in circles. To find out if they’re really following.”

“I hope they are,” I announce.

“Why’s that?” He doesn’t sound even mildly concerned.

“Because then there’ll be a fight. If I’m lucky, someone will kill you, and I can finally untie this stupid rope.” I have to eat next to him, sleep next to him, bathe next to him, pee and…other stuff next to him. It’s horrible and humiliating. It’s a worse punishment than Prometheus getting his liver eaten every day by a giant eagle.

Poseidon, why are you doing this to me?

If I have to wake up with my nose in Beta Sinta’s chest one more time, I think I’ll scream.

“I’ve fed you, I haven’t harmed you, and I haven’t asked you to do anything in particular. Your situation could be far worse,” he argues. “With whoever might be following us, it could be.”

“First of all, abduction is a major strike against you. Second, they won’t necessarily catch me. Third, you hit me in the face.”

His back tenses. “That was unintentional.”

“It still happened.”

“You hit me often enough,” he mutters.

“Good idea.” I grind my fist into his kidney, feeling no remorse. He snatched me from the circus and threatened the people I love. He deserves that, and worse.

Gray eyes glint at me over his shoulder. Beta Sinta’s voice turns a little too calm for comfort. “Cat…”

“Your Highness?” My tone is a sweet-and-sour masterpiece.

“Have a care.” His eyes narrow, and he takes his time turning back around.

After we set up camp, earlier than usual, Beta Sinta unties himself for the first time and links me to Carver. Unease grips my stomach in the strangest way.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“They’re following us. See the smoke?” He points at something that looks like a cloud. “I’m going to investigate.”

“Alone?”

He smiles faintly, angling his body toward mine. His warmth burns a flush into my cheeks. “Worried about me?” he asks.

“What? No! I hope you die.”

His smile fades. Straightening abruptly, he tells Carver, “You know what to do.”

Carver nods and claps his brother on the back. After acknowledging Kato and Flynn, Beta Sinta prowls away without a backward glance. The send-off is pretty minimal, if you ask me.

“What are you supposed to do?” I ask when Beta Sinta is out of earshot.

Carver tugs me toward the campfire, and I drag my feet. Southerners always want to be where it’s hot. “If he doesn’t come back, I’ll take you to Sinta City myself. To Egeria.”

If he doesn’t come back, he’s dead, and his rope won’t work unless someone else claims it. That someone will be me, and I’ll be long gone before we reach Sinta City.

I watch Beta Sinta disappear on foot up a rocky hillside scattered with scrub. “Good riddance.”

“You don’t mean that,” Flynn says.

I cross my arms, frowning. “Yes, I do.”

“Why?” Kato asks. His golden hair glows almost celestial white in the strong beams of the setting sun, and I have to squint to look at him. “He’s been decent to you.”

“If decent means abducting me and keeping me tied up, then I guess he’s been decent, by your standards.”

Carver moves, forgetting I’m attached, and I lurch, falling to my hands and knees. A stone digs into my palm, and I hiss a breath between my teeth. Grating a curse, I grab the rope and give it a hard enough yank to make Carver stumble.

“I hate this bloody rope!” None of these people have magic. There isn’t a dribble of power to steal, nothing to get me out of here.

Flynn is instantly by my side, reaching down to help me up.

I shove his mammoth hands away. “Don’t touch me. I hate you all.”

He looks sympathetic, which makes me want to throw him under a Cyclops’s boot. “That’s not true.”

I glare at him. “I have no freedom, no privacy, and now I don’t even get to have my own mind? Don’t tell me how I feel!”

Flynn sets his ax down with a sigh. “You hate Griffin, even though you shouldn’t, and the rest of us are just lumped in because that’s easiest for you.”

I roll my eyes as I contemplate making a lunge for the ax. I would if I thought I could lift it. “Spare me your psychological ramblings.”

“Do you want a bath?” Carver asks, his question cutting straight through our argument and ending it.

We’re fifty feet from a stream with a tempting clear pool. I’m hot and dusty, and I desperately want to jump in. Swimming is in my blood. I’m a fish in Poseidon’s sea.

I plant my hands on my hips. “No.”

He shrugs. “It’s just that you and Griffin keep going off for long baths.”

My mouth drops open.
What in the Underworld is he implying?
“He doesn’t give me any choice! Apparently, I stink.”

Kato leans over and sniffs me, his cobalt eyes dancing with humor. “You don’t smell that bad.”

That
bad? “That’s because I bathe.”

Carver glances at the water, then back at me. The rope hangs loosely on his narrow waist. “Except for tonight?” He has the nerve to look like he might laugh, so I level the same cold look at him that I used to give my siblings. It’s my
The Ice Plains will melt away and the Underworld will freeze over before I give one
inch
to you
look.

Carver arches dark eyebrows, looking annoyingly like a certain warlord whose ass I’d like to kick from here to a Harpy’s nest. “Suit yourself.”

A bitter smile curves my lips. “Always.” It’s a good thing my own lies don’t burn me.

* * *

I
hate
stinking. I hate it with the passion of the Gods. I regret my stubbornness before dinner, and even more after when I’m forced to lie down next to Carver, who smells even worse than I do. Kato is on watch, Flynn is already snoring, Beta Sinta is off in the brush, and Carver doesn’t feel right. His body isn’t solid enough. He doesn’t smell of citrus soap and sunshine. He’s just…not the same. As much as I hate to admit it, I was getting used to his brother.

Sleep takes a long time coming and then is fitful, troubled by memories that resurface in dreams. Anxiety bubbles in my stomach, acidic and sharp. The churning has me fumbling in the dark, tumbling in the undertow, getting dragged out to places I don’t want to be.

The first scorching blast sinks into my belly, and I snap awake with a startled cry. He only attacks at night, when I’m asleep and can’t see. I don’t know how he gets past the locks on my door, but it’s him, always the same one. He wouldn’t dare come after me when I’m ready and alert. I’m too good with a knife.

His magic rips through me. Fiery needles pierce my skin, burning deep into the heart of me. I arch off the bed, throbbing, and scream until my throat turns raw, blind with pain. Red with fury.

He lets up, and I just barely suppress a whimper. He’s not strong enough to keep going. If his magic were mine, I could go for hours, slowly cooking him until the last breath left his body. He’s not me. For every five minutes of torture, he needs one to recover. That’s when fists fly.

I block, curling into a ball until either I can strike back without leaving myself too open, or Thanos comes to pull him off me. He hovers over me, fingers digging into my shoulders and pushing me down. His hands on my blistered skin are excruciating, but I thrash to loosen his hold, shrieking for all I’m worth, and then hammer a fist into his throat.

My knuckles connect with flesh, and everything suddenly feels too real. My eyes fly open, and Carver is doubled over me, grabbing his neck. His eyes are bulging, and the breath he finally manages to drag into his airway rattles in his throat.

Seeing him, I go limp with relief. A shudder tangles in my chest.
I’m not there.

“What in the Underworld was that?” he rasps, rubbing the Cat-sized fist mark already shadowing his skin.

I glance at my shaking hands, expecting to see red bubbles and slashes, blood turned to lava in my veins. They look normal, but I know the truth; they’re stained.

“Nightmare,” I croak.

Carver sits back on his heels. He shoves a hand through his hair, frowning. “You were twisting and howling like a damned lunatic. Scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I clamp my mouth shut. If I open it, I might scream.

Drawn by the commotion, Kato and Flynn exchange a look. Flynn drags his bedroll closer until I’m pinned between Carver and him, and Kato sits down near my head, using one of my knives to carve a likeness of Athena into a chunk of fragrant cedarwood.

I should tell them all to go away. I really should. I unlock my jaw, and something else comes out. “Why Athena?”

“Wisdom and war,” Kato answers. “What every man needs.”

“Not home and family?” I ask.

He grins. “Not a young man. A hearth and a wife are for later, when the battles are won.”

“Haven’t you won? Sinta is yours.”

“Sinta is Egeria’s,” Kato says. “There are battles yet to come.”

His cryptic words send a chill down my spine. Is Tarva next? Fisa? “What makes you think she’ll rule any better than the royals before? Capricious, violent, cruel, bestowing favors only to take them away…”

“You’ll understand when you meet her.”

That’ll never happen. I’ll escape soon. I have to.

“That was more than just a nightmare. Who hurt you?” Flynn asks. He sounds angry, and his genuine concern leaves me feeling raw and exposed.

I press my lips together and stare up at the night sky. I have a better question. Why haven’t I had my daily dose of nightmares since Beta Sinta abducted me? That is, until tonight?

* * *

The next morning, Beta Sinta still hasn’t returned. No one seems particularly worried, and they don’t break camp. I grit my teeth and hint that I might want a bath. Even Poseidon is telling me I stink.

Carver grins. “So how does this work?”

“How do you think? We both turn invisible. The rest is pretty much self-explanatory.”

Chuckling at my crankiness, he wiggles his eyebrows at Kato and Flynn, who joke about wanting their turn at an invisible swim. I roll my eyes and make a rude hand gesture. Then we disappear before they can retaliate.

On the bank, I strip and grab my soap. “You ready?”

“Naked as the day I was born,” Carver answers, sounding far too proud.

I tug on the rope and lead him into the stream. The pool on the east bank is perfect, four feet deep with a sandy bottom and a light current.

“Too bad I can’t see you,” Carver says.

“What?” I feel my cheeks heat. “Why?”

“That would be more fun,” he answers matter-of-factly.

I can’t help laughing. “Splash.”

“What for?”

“So I know where you are.”

The water sloshes about three feet from me, and I hurl the soap at him. Carver lets out a satisfying grunt.

“Don’t flirt with me.”

“Why not?” He sounds completely innocent. The rascal.

“Because I’ll kill you.”

“You could try,” he says, imitating his brother’s deeper voice.

I snort, smothering another laugh. “Is that the new royal family’s motto? Very plebeian. Perfect for your lot.”

“What’s wrong with plebeian?” Carver asks. “I’d rather be us than them.”

He means Magoi nobles and royals. “So would I,” I answer truthfully.

I dive under and blow bubbles. Carver must see them because he hits me with a huge splash when I come up. Sputtering, I splash him back, or at least I think I do. Sometime in the middle of a full-on water fight, I realize I’m having fun. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I can’t help it, and being strapped to Carver is so much better than being attached to Beta Sinta. That’s all weirdness and tension.

“You win!” Carver cries, a shiver in his voice. “I’m turning blue.”

“How do you know? You’re invisible.”

“I can feel it. Trust me.”

Trust you? Not likely.
“You southerners are so fainthearted.”

Water droplets appear out of nowhere, splattering all around me.

“Shake your hair over there!” I yell, flicking water back.

He must jump away because the rope snaps taut, yanks me, and I face-plant into the stream. I right myself, cursing colorfully between coughs.

Carver laughs. “I’m surprised Griffin hasn’t drowned you yet. I keep forgetting you’re attached.”

I think back over the last few days as we climb the bank. Beta Sinta is surprisingly conscious of the rope, almost never jerking me around.

Frowning, I gather my hair and start wringing the water from it. “I need a drying cloth. And more soap.”

“Ask Griffin,” Carver says.

I huff. “Forget it.” I finger-comb my tangled curls, air-drying the rest of me before dressing. I leave my feet bare. “You ready?”

“I’m always ready.”

I let go of our invisibility, and Carver is still completely naked, his clothes clutched in one hand.

“That’s not ready!” I cry, slapping my hand over my eyes. “You’re an idiot!”

“But an impressive idiot.”

“No!” I screech. “Oh Gods! Now I have to replace my eyeballs!”

He laughs, his clothes rustling. “You asked if I was
ready
, not if I was
dressed
, but it’s safe now.”

“I don’t believe you.” I keep my hand where it is even though I’m tempted to split my fingers and take a peek.

“Then walk blind.” Carver moves forward, the rope pulling me along.