A Promise of Fire (8 page)

“How do you know so much about Velos? The circus travels a route farther to the west.”

Hours of schooling and a tutor with a whip?
“I’ve met people, heard things,” I say offhandedly.

Beta Sinta stops, his mouth flattening in obvious irritation. “Help me, Cat. Or at least tell me the truth. I know when you’re lying.”

“Oh?” My heart trips over its next beat.

“Your eyes get twitchy.”

“My eyes do not get twitchy!”

“This one gets narrower.” He touches the tip of his finger to the corner of my right eye, and a little jolt zips through me. “It’s as if you’re expecting the lie to hurt, but it doesn’t because it’s your own.”

I jerk my head away and start walking again. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll have to work on that.”

“Cat…” he growls, stalking after me. “Everything would be so much easier if—”

“—you let me go.”

Beta Sinta shakes his head. “I can’t. You’re too valuable.”

“Aren’t you the lucky despot? The one who caught the Kingmaker. Forgive me for not being overjoyed about becoming your slave.”

“Not a slave.” He grabs my arm, swinging me back to him. “One of us.”

Incredibly, he believes what he’s saying, even if I don’t. I wrench my arm from his grip, feeling each long finger like a brand on my skin. I wish my eyes could shoot flames. Or my hands. Or really, any part of me would do. “I’ll never be one of you.”

Beta Sinta spears a hand through his black hair, tugging a little. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

I glare at him. He simply looks back, and his calm makes me want to hit something. Or
someone
.

Our small group continues before stopping again in front of a row of colorful market stalls. A light breeze slips over my shoulder, and I turn into it, trying to cool down while Beta Sinta opens his leather pouch again and produces four silver coins.

Flynn rubs his hands together, his eyes brightening. “Payday!”

Flynn, Carver, and Kato each take a coin, leaving one in Beta Sinta’s palm.

“Cat.” He extends the coin to me. “Your pay.”

Of all the things I imagined he might say, that wasn’t one of them. I snap my jaw shut and turn away. I have my last copper.

He doesn’t insist, dropping the coin back into his pouch. “I’ll hold it for you. I know what you want. You complain about it often enough.”

I look up sharply and find his eyes brimming with humor.
Is he teasing me?

We approach the vendors, the enchanted rope tugging me along. I wonder what would happen if I sat down and refused to budge. Would I get dragged around on my ass? Tossed over one shoulder? The possibilities keep my feet moving.

Beta Sinta buys enough apricots and oranges to last a week; four loaves of bread; normal, hard cheese; and green grapes. I want the red ones, but since I refused the money, I keep my mouth shut. He finds a soap seller next and takes forever sniffing the different scents.

I roll my eyes. “You’re worse than a woman. Just take the yellow one. It’s always the best.”

He picks it up and inhales. “Lemon. Smells like you.”

I don’t know if it’s the way his voice turns rough, or how his thick, dark lashes dip, fanning his cheeks and shading his eyes, but my insides turn revoltingly mushy.

“And
you
,” I sputter. “My soap should have lasted another month.”

“We’ll take two,” he tells the vendor, paying and then continuing down the row of stalls.

“There is no
we
. Don’t act like I have a say in any of this.”

Beta Sinta whirls, frustration darkening his eyes. “You
could
have a say. And you could bloody well choose your own soap!”

“I did! I told you to take the yellow one.”

“And I did!”

Muttering a curse, he walks off so fast that the rope pulls, jerking me into someone. Or maybe the man stumbles into me. His eyes are unfocused, and he’s listing to the left.

Magic bites my skin. My body responds instantly. I feel the vortex. I let it expand, readying the whirlpool that’ll pull the stranger’s magic into me and make it my own.

I reach out with a shudder. Aside from the steady, light nip of the rope, which I hardly feel anymore, I haven’t been in contact with magic for nearly two weeks, and whatever is coursing through this man’s veins is exciting and potent. I don’t know what it is, but it might mean my escape.

I grab his shoulders, feeling like a child in a kitchen full of cakes. I’m going to stuff myself until I burst.

“Cat?” Beta Sinta sounds far away. “Cat! What are you doing?”

Laughing, floating, I release the man only when there’s no magic left to take. Turning, I stumble into Beta Sinta. He catches my bare arms, and I gasp. Eyes like a storm. Fingers
so
warm.

“You’re pink!” I giggle, the sound strange and unfamiliar to my ears.

He frowns, and it makes me laugh. His face fades in and out of focus. Everything is hazy, rosy, and not quite upright. The world is buzzing. It’s turned elastic, and it vibrates at the edges.

Dizzy, I lay my hand on Beta Sinta’s chest for balance. His heart beats under my palm, and the steady rise and fall of his chest mesmerizes me.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
It seems perfectly normal to time my breathing to match his.

“
Poseidon’s balls!
What in the Underworld did you do to me?”

I turn to the red-faced, raging man whose magic I took. A person’s natural magic will come back in a matter of hours, but this feels like a spell. I blink him into focus, tilting my head so he’s not sideways. He staggers, and tremors rack his wiry frame. He’s pink, too, and madder than the Minotaur in his maze.

Beta Sinta tenses under my hand.

“That dose was supposed to last all day!” the man snarls. “I paid good silver for it. Give it back!” he thunders, lunging at me.

Beta Sinta’s arm snakes around my waist, and he spins me out of the way. The man howls, but all I can do is laugh, even when he draws a knife and waves it at me, a manic look in his eyes.

An enraged sound rises in Beta Sinta’s chest. His free hand shoots out and knocks the knife from the man’s trembling grip. The next thing I know, Beta Sinta has the other man by the throat. It’s impressive. Fast.

One of Beta Sinta’s arms is still wrapped around me, plastering me to his side. The other is extended in front of my nose. Powerful without unnecessary bulk, tanned, corded, chiseled—the whole arm is almost too appealing to resist. Muscles bunch and roll, and I have the hardest time not reaching up to squeeze his biceps.

He tosses the man to the ground. Kato, Flynn, and Carver take up positions around us, looking wonderfully lethal. I clap and grin—I
love
a good fight, not that this one seems very fair—and then blink. Flynn either just grew three feet, or I’m hallucinating.

“Dose of
what
?” The deadly undertone in Beta Sinta’s voice makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise. A shiver rattles me, and his grip around my waist tightens.

When the man just gapes at us, prostrate, Beta Sinta draws a knife from his belt and throws it without a second’s hesitation. It sticks not even an inch from the man’s ear, slicing off a hunk of matted brown hair.

“The next one lands somewhere that hurts,” Beta Sinta says in a low, furious voice.

I wrinkle my nose. “Brutal.”

Thundercloud eyes flash to mine. “No one touches you.”

I chew on my lower lip, confused. “You’re touching me.”

His eyes dip to my mouth. “I’m the exception.”

The breath stalls in my lungs. Everything inside me suddenly feels liquid and light. He reminds me of a pirate again. Dark. Sharp. Fierce. I smile up at him, wondering if it would be all right to jump into his arms and bury my face in his neck.

Our eyes meet. His are like molten silver, and my legs turn weak. I sway into him, and Beta Sinta’s fingers convulse on my hip, tugging me closer. His eyes close for the space of a deep breath. When he opens them again, his jaw hardens, and he turns back to the man on the ground with a snarl. “I’m waiting.”

I turn back, too, narrow my eyes, and point an accusing finger. “Answer or die!” The man’s face drains of what little color it had left, and I burst out laughing.

“Euphoria,” he wheezes, struggling to sit up. “Paid five silvers for it, and the little leech stole it with one touch.” He spits in my direction. The gob lands about a foot from my boot. It’s pink.

The rumble in Beta Sinta’s throat reminds me of a volcano about to erupt. This could get messy. I’m not in the mood for messy.

“
You
bumped into
me
.” At least I think he did. I peel Beta Sinta’s arm off me and walk away, finding it takes an unusual amount of effort to put one foot in front of the other. The rope pulls, and I totter. Beta Sinta steadies me with a firm hand on my lower back, hesitating before following. I almost ask if he’d like to beat the man to a pulp before we move on but, really, this
is
Beta Sinta. There’s no need to be polite.

“What about the addict?” Carver asks in a low voice, handing Beta Sinta back the knife he threw.

“Leave him,” Beta Sinta answers, sheathing the blade. He’s at my elbow, his heat searing my arm. “Make sure he’s not following.”

The addict slips from my mind as soon as he’s out of sight, growing hazy like everything else. Cheerful, carefree, I hum, floating up and down the market rows. There’s something else I need.
What?

Can’t remember. Don’t really care.

I stumble. Beta Sinta catches me, his hands circling my waist.

“You’re high on euphoria.” He’s holding on to me. I think he’s holding me up. His large hands skim up my ribs, steadying me. “A strong dose, calibrated to a man twice your size.” He gazes down at me, and I see my face reflected in the darkest part of his gray eyes. “How did that happen?”

I motion for him to lower his head so I can whisper in his ear. His cheek brushes mine, and warmth rushes through me. I press into his jaw, curious about the feel of the two days’ worth of beard on his skin. It prickles, but not unpleasantly.

“I can steal magic,” I tell him. “If you had any, I’d steal yours.”

He lifts his head, his eyes shadowed. I don’t know what to make of his expression. I don’t know what to make of anything. I’ve never felt this way before—disconnected from myself, confused, and happy. It’s a relief not to be scared anymore. So freeing. I should do this more often. I’m having the time of my life!

“I can give it away, too.” I direct some euphoria at Beta Sinta. It bounces back to me with a shudder, and I frown. “You don’t want any?”
Is he supposed to have a choice?
I try again, and the same thing happens. “There’s something very strange about you.” For some reason, that makes me laugh so hard I sound like a donkey.

After I stop braying, it occurs to me that the problem might be me. I wiggle out of Beta Sinta’s grasp and throw some magic at Kato.

Kato grins and leans to the left. “Everything’s pink!” He turns, loses his balance, and upends an entire display of boots, belts, and other leather goods.

“For the Gods’ sakes!” Beta Sinta mutters. He hands the furious vendor a silver coin for the inconvenience. “Flynn! Take care of him. Take him back to the inn. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, knock anything else over, or kill anyone by accident.”

“Oh, no!” I cry. “We mustn’t kill by accident. Only on purpose.”

“My sentiment exactly,” Beta Sinta grumbles, taking my hand and pulling me down the street. He looks a lot like I might be on his kill list.

I giggle. Carver follows.

“Where are we going?” I dance a Fisan jig around Beta Sinta, making him turn in circles. The dust I kick up shimmers like ice crystals under a winter sun. I long for the cold, the kind of cold that makes your brain freeze.

Where is my brain? I can’t feel my head!

My hands fly up, and I dig through my braid, pulling it apart until I feel scalp.
Oh, good. Still there.

“We have one more thing to buy,” Beta Sinta says.

“I knew it!” I yell, clapping in triumph. “What?”

“A drying cloth.”

That sounds boring. Something shiny catches my eye. I veer to the right, taking Beta Sinta with me. “A sword! I want a sword. Can I have a sword?”

“You can’t even lift a sword,” he says, but he follows me along the vendor’s table anyway.

“I can. Watch me.” I reach for the biggest, shiniest blade in the merchant’s wares. It won’t budge. “That’s odd. Someone must have glued it.” I lean over the sword and keep going until my face lands on metal.

“Ow!” I rub my nose, and my finger comes away bloody. Seeing the red smear should worry me, but I can’t remember why.

“Blood.”
Mother’s voice haunts me from far away.
“Spill it. Shed it. Bathe in it. Make people fear you.”

Laughter bubbles up inside me. I’ve never found Mother funny before. This euphoria stuff is great!

Beta Sinta leans close to inspect my nose. He brushes hair out of my face with callused fingers that are light and warm.

On impulse, I lift my hands and trail my fingers over the dark stubble shadowing his cheeks. “Hmmm. Scratchy.”

He stares down at me as he catches my hands and slowly lowers them, keeping my fingers trapped loosely in his. His thumbs skate over my knuckles, and a lovely flutter tickles my ribs.

“The cut’s nothing,” he says, his voice unusually soft. A few heartbeats pass before he lets me go and turns to the vendor, nodding to a half-sized sword at the far end of the table.

The merchant hands it to him, and Beta Sinta inspects the weapon, testing its weight and balance and making sure the blade is straight.

“We’ll take it,” he finally says. “And your smallest sword belt with dagger loops.”

“You’re buying me a sword? And a belt for my knives?” Thrilled, I leap on him like an octopus, clinging to him with arms and legs. So more like a quadropus. Does that even exist?

Gods! His skin is on
fire
!

Beta Sinta’s arms lock around me. Thunder rolls in my ears, and I cock my head, listening for more. He goes utterly still. Does he hear it, too? Then he inhales so deeply that his chest expands, pressing into me. A dizzying sensation sweeps through me. Against my neck, his shuddering exhale stirs my hair and sends a rush of goose bumps down my spine.

I shiver, giggling breathlessly. “Ack! That tickles!”

With a strained chuckle, he untangles my limbs and sets me back on my feet, standing protectively over me. I can’t help smiling up at him. He’s such a contradiction. So arrogant and yet so reasonable.

“The sword’s really for me?” I ask.

His hands linger on my waist, his splayed fingers pressing lightly into my sides. “You said you wanted one.”

My smile widens. “In that case, I want
two
! One for each hip.” I can already imagine my swagger.

He laughs, his expression a disconcerting mix of humor and indulgence. “Let’s start with one,” he says, pulling me a shade closer.

I gaze up at him. My brain is fuzzy, my limbs are light, and no one has ever looked at me the way he does. The undisguised heat in his quicksilver eyes makes it hard to breathe.

Beta Sinta pays for the sword. It’s short, about two and a half feet long, with a rounded guard shaped like a loosely woven basket of laurel leaves.

“Can I have it?” I ask, bouncing next to him. “Can I? Can I, please?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You can have it when I can trust you.”

That sounds logical. “Okay.”

“
Okay?
” He arches dark eyebrows. “That’s it?”

“What’s it?” There’s a bee buzzing in my ear. I swat at it, laughing. It turns into a Centaur and gallops away. “Did you see that?” I cry.

“See what?”

“The bee. The Centaur bee. The pink one.”

Beta Sinta rolls his eyes—something I never thought he’d do—grabs my hand, and drags me through the market. Colors, sounds, and spicy scents swirl through the fog in my brain. I float through them. I have to dance. I dance and skip like the child I was never allowed to be. I’m happy. I fear nothing. I don’t have to watch my back. There’s a giant butterfly doing that.

It lands on my shoulder, flaps powdery wings, and whispers, “I’ll take care of you.”

I look up, beaming. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Beta Sinta says.

“Not
you
.”

He frowns, and I laugh, dancing some more. When I fall, Carver helps me up. I smile and give him my best curtsy. It’s really well done. There isn’t a princess in the three realms that could do better.

Carver bows back, and it’s awful. I laugh until I snort. Mother would
not
approve.

Beta Sinta lightly tugs my hand, and I stumble to the right, landing in a sea of drying cloths. They hang and flap, rainbow sails in the afternoon breeze. I jump, trying to touch the highest one while he plows through the stock on the table, looking for something in that efficient manner of his.

“This one,” he tells the merchant. It’s mid-sized and a disgusting shade of yellow.

“Is that for me?”

He nods, and I scrunch up my nose.

“Not that one. It looks like Cerberus threw up on it.” I look around. “I want
that
one!” It’s bright red and three times too big.
I love it!

He throws the yellow cloth back on the table and buys the red.

Done with the market, he tows me back toward the inn again. Suddenly light-headed, I plop down in the middle of the cobbled street, hearing Beta Sinta’s grunt when the rope cuts into his hips.

I squint up at him. “Serves you right. You could just untie me. Or let me go.”

He smirks. “And miss all this fun?”

I burst out laughing. A second later, he grins back. His smile is broad and makes my heart thump an irregular beat. His nose is a bit hooked, but that makes his face different, interesting. So does the scar. I can’t remember why I don’t like him. In fact, I—

My head snaps around. I felt something. I
want
it. I jump up, my feet flying.

“Where are you going?” Beta Sinta falls into stride next to me. Carver is on my other side, easily keeping pace.

I don’t answer because I don’t know, not until we turn a corner and race up the steps of a bathhouse. I barrel through the front doors, startling a couple on their way out. Their white robes are cinched with matching hammered-gold belts.
Shiny!

I reach for the woman’s belt. She slides away from me, and I let her go. There’s something more important here.