A Promise of Fire (10 page)

“Can’t beat a girl?” I taunt, knowing he won’t hurt me. Not much, anyway. “Has the big, bad warlord gone all soft?”

“Do you have a death wish?” Beta Sinta stalks forward and nearly knocks the sword from my hand. The vibration rattles my bones from fingers to shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “I wish. That would make my life—or lack thereof—so much easier.”

Flynn, Kato, and Carver chuckle on our right. I flick my braid over my shoulder and give them the evil eye. “Laugh all you want, ladies. You’re next.”

“No thanks,” Flynn says. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Poor Flynn.” I sigh. “So scared.”

They laugh. Unfortunately, I do, too. I drop my guard, and Beta Sinta steps in, disarms me, and sweeps my legs out from under me. I crash to the ground, the wind knocked out of me. He follows me down, pinning me with a classic grappling move I saw coming from miles away but was too slow to do anything about.

He ends up on top of me, his face mere inches from mine. The air flees my lungs again but for entirely different reasons. I can’t help wondering about the laugh lines around the corners of his eyes, or noticing how the outer rims of his irises are more silver than gray. He hasn’t shaved in days, and the beard shadowing his cheeks looks almost long enough to be soft. The dark whiskers frame his wide mouth and highlight the sensual curve of his full lips—lips I keep looking at.

His hair falls forward, caging us. His eyes turn that stormy gray. They remind me of the ocean on a wild, windy dawn just before the sun kisses the horizon. I bet if he looked at me a certain way…

Dear Gods, is he looking at me that way right now?

I panic and slam my forehead into his nose.

“Zeus’s bollocks!” Beta Sinta bellows. Blood spews from his nose, drenching me.

“That’s disgusting,” I sputter. “Get off!”

His hooked nose is crooked now, too.
Oops.

“You’re as heavy as a horse.” I ram my palms into his shoulders, trying to dislodge him. I can feel every steely inch of him. That’s way too much, and he’s way too close.

Something dangerous sparks in his eyes. “Concede I’ve won.”

“What? No! In your dreams. Of the non-oracular kind.” I jerk my head up again, the effort only halfhearted. He dodges, and my forehead glances off his scruffy cheek.

His voice deepens to a growl. “Concede I’ve won.”

“Not a chance.”

He settles more heavily on top of me. I can hardly breathe. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Do you need me to say it in sign language?” I lift my head and bite him where his shoulder meets his neck. He tastes like salt, sun, and citrus. He tastes like he smells. My tongue apparently has a mind of its own because it snakes over his skin, tasting more.

He stops breathing. He doesn’t fight me. He doesn’t even move.

What in the name of Zeus am I doing?
I release the bite and spit on the ground. “Gross!” I cough out, trying my best to believe it.

Beta Sinta lifts his head, anger and something else, something intense and shiver-inducing, flashing in his thundercloud gaze. I feel frozen in place and all jumbled up—belligerent, remorseful, excited…kind of worried.

He rises, roughly hauling me to my feet. He attaches me to a tree and leaves me there while he washes the blood off his face and tries to straighten his nose. I’m covered in his blood, too, but he doesn’t seem to care.

More or less alone for the first time in days, I find a spot without any rocks or roots and stretch out, making a big deal about how great it is to finally have my own space. Which it is. Sort of.

Lacing my hands behind my head, I stare up at the leaves, a heavy feeling settling in my chest. I didn’t mean to break his nose.

An hour later, Beta Sinta brings me to the stream in silence. His nose is swollen, and both his eyes have dark bruises under them. Instead of turning invisible for a bath, I wash my face, neck, and hands and then start chanting. He looks wary but doesn’t try to stop me. When I’m done, I plunge my hand into the water and snatch the salamander I conjured out of the mud before it can swim away.

I rinse it off and then shove it in Beta Sinta’s face. “Here. Eat this.”

“Why?”

“It’ll fix your nose.”

He eyes the wriggling creature with suspicion. “How?”

“How do you think? With magic.”

“Are you a healer, too?”

“No, but I know some tricks.” I’ve needed them. “Go on. Eat. And no swallowing it whole. You have to chew. Crunch. Crunch,” I say, dangling it in front of his nose.

He looks disgusted, and a little cross-eyed because it’s so close. I’m surprised when he opens his mouth. I toss the salamander into it, and Beta Sinta crunches down. He gags, his eyes watering at the vile taste, but he still chews and swallows.

I grimace. “I can’t believe you ate that.”

“Why? You said I should.” He clears his throat, visibly nauseated.

“Because it’s revolting. And how do you know I didn’t just poison you?”

“Did you?”

“No, but I could have.”

He shrugs, completely unconcerned.

“By the way, you could’ve swallowed it whole.”

Now
he looks annoyed.
Ha!

“And just so you know, never eat a blue amphibian. Most colors are fine, but blue is bad news.”

He touches his nose, wiggling it back and forth and then scrunching it a few times. There isn’t a trace of damage left. “I’ll remember that if anyone ever tries to serve me a toad.”

I make a face and roll my eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone conjure a magic toad. Toads are mostly terrestrial, anyway. I don’t think they count.”

“I’m not surprised. I just wanted to see you make a face and roll your eyes. It’s adorable.”

Adorable?
My jaw hits the riverbank. No one’s ever accused me of
that
before.

Great
. Now I can’t make faces or roll my eyes. My life just got bleaker. So why do I feel like smiling?
Gah!

After dinner, Beta Sinta ties me to the tree again, apparently to have a conversation with Carver that I’m not allowed to hear. I don’t mean to, but I fall asleep watching the moon hang in the sky. I wake up screaming, my knuckles flying toward Beta Sinta’s throat. He catches my hand and holds it. My fist uncurls as where I am and who I’m with push the nightmare aside.

Past shadows fade as he traces slow circles on the palm of my hand with the pad of his thumb. I’m not sure he even knows he’s doing it, but it’s suddenly all I can think about—that hot, rhythmic circle on my hand. The rough skin combined with the soothing touch heighten the shivery sensations building inside me. I don’t pull back. I’d be disgusted with myself, except this sure beats reliving needles of fire and a fist the size of my face.

Wordlessly, Beta Sinta reattaches us at the waist and then leads me over to his bedroll, spreading mine out on the left. I lie down, staring into the darkness and rejecting the completely irrational feeling of relief being next to him brings.

“Who did that to you?” he asks in a low, furious voice.

I stiffen under my blanket. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

My whole body goes still. “Why?”

“Because I punish people who hurt women.”

My chest tightens painfully. It’s a feeling I keep getting lately. I don’t like it. “I wasn’t a woman then. I was just a girl.”

A savage sound rumbles in his throat. He sounds like the lion hybrid he’s named for. “Who?”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“How can you say that?” He turns to me, his eyebrows drawn into dark, angry slashes. “Don’t tell me you’re the forgiving type.”

I snort. “The person who gave me nightmares was punished a long time ago. Kill or be killed. That’s the way of my world.” I roll onto my side to face him. “
I’m
still here.”

His mouth opens, but I cut him off. “Drop it, Beta Sinta.”

His eyes are black in the moonlight. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“I have a name,” he finally says.

I stay silent. His name doesn’t change anything, and Beta Sinta is what he is.

He lifts up on one elbow and props his head in his hand, clearly with no intention of dropping it. “There were others, though. People who hurt you.”

It doesn’t sound like a question. I wouldn’t answer anyway. I roll over, turning my back on him and closing my eyes. A face fills my mind—beautiful, olive skin, dark hair, eyes as cold as ice. She laughs.
“You
are
me. Don’t even pretend that you’re not.”

I shiver so violently that Beta Sinta must see it. The scars on my arms burn. Chills run through the rest of me. I’m not her. Not yet, anyway. The problem is, I might be worse.

It takes a long time for sleep to come. Close to dawn, I wake up way too hot with a warlord plastered to my back. One heavy arm is draped across my waist, his big hand splayed possessively over my stomach, tucking me against him.

My heart slams in my chest, and a frightening, warm sensation infuses that empty part of me. Something in the warmth flutters, cautious, like a nascent bird’s wings. Like a fledgling, though, I don’t know whether I’ll crash or fly.

It takes twelve days for the attack to come, long enough for my enemies to cross Fisa, Tarva, and half of Sinta at a grueling pace. I was wrong about twenty men; she sends thirty. “I told you we should’ve run.”

Kato and Flynn adjust their weapons, mace and ax ready. Carver draws his sword, his eyes as sharp as his blade.

“Thirty to four,” Beta Sinta says. “I’ve seen better odds.”

I gape at his casual tone. He gets all worked up over my being snarky or not controlling my temper very well (at all!), but
this
doesn’t faze him? What is
wrong
with him?

“Thirty to five,” I correct, itching for my knives.

“They’re Fisan.”

“I know.” Their snow-white standard undulating with blue waves brings on a mess of emotions. “So?”

He turns in the saddle. “Not interested in returning to your home realm?”

No.

Really, no.

A thousand trolls
ʼ
worth of no.

“If I wanted to be in Fisa, I would be.”

He faces forward again and kicks his horse. I grab his waist, and we gallop for higher ground.

“I thought you weren’t one of us,” Beta Sinta calls over his shoulder.

“I’m not. Maybe you’ll kill each other off, and I’ll get away.”

“This could be your lucky day,” he says somewhat grimly.

It’s not. I know it the second I see who’s leading the Fisans. In all the realms, he’s one of the few people who actually wants me dead, not just captured. And here I thought she’d send someone to bring me back. I might have to reevaluate my worth.

Beta Sinta stops and squints at the riders, focusing on their leader. “Gods, what did you do? Eviscerate his mother?”

I laugh. It’s high-pitched and completely inappropriate, but I can’t help it. He’s right about the way Otis is looking at me.
Hate, hate, hate.
It doesn’t bother me. I’m pretty sure I hate him more. “People don’t think when they’re angry.”

Beta Sinta grunts. “You should know.”

My nostrils flare. I’m nothing like Otis. If I were, I’d still be in Fisa. “This isn’t the time for snide remarks. They’re going to massacre us.”

“They can try.”

I smile at that. It’s more a baring of teeth.

Beta Sinta glances at me. “I thought there was no
us
.”

Did I just use the u-word by accident?
“Untie me,” I say, ignoring what I can’t explain and don’t want to think about. “Give me my weapons.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You can’t fight tied up like this, and neither can I!” I feel him hesitate. “Oh, for the Gods’ sakes! I give you my binding word I won’t escape during the fight.” That doesn’t mean I can’t escape later, and I’d rather stay with Beta Sinta for now than battle Otis like a sitting duck. At least the Sintans don’t want me dead.

Gray eyes lock on mine. “You won’t try to escape?”

I shake my head, unable to look away. “No. I swear it.”

“Ever. You won’t try to escape me
ever
. Not as long as I live.”

My eyes widen, and I gulp down a scathing retort. “That’s a lot to ask,” I say roughly.

“I have a lot to lose,” he answers just as roughly.

My heartbeat pounds against my ribs. Otis or Beta Sinta? Fisa, possibly death, or this, whatever
this
is. “It’s out of my power if I’m captured.”

His expression hardens. “Then I’d better not let that happen.”

I swallow the sick lump in my throat. As far as choices go, it’s not the hardest I’ve faced. Poseidon set us on this course. Would my God Father steer me wrong? He sent Beta Sinta to me with an oracular dream. What am I supposed to do with him? Probably not let him die. Or get killed myself.

My lungs feel scratchy, and I have to rip the words from my throat, regretting them as soon as they’re said. “I won’t try to escape you as long as you live.”

The vow takes hold with a jolt of magic, jarring me. Scaring me.

A look of pure triumph crosses Beta Sinta’s face. “I’ll protect you, Cat. I swear it.”

My heart clenches violently in my chest. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It displeases the Gods.”

His deft fingers work fast, untying the knots. He stuffs the rope into his saddlebag, drags me onto his lap, and then plants his mouth on mine.

The kiss sizzles through me, quick and rough and shocking me to my toes. My lips tingle from hardness and warmth. Heat explodes through the rest of me, racing under my skin like a storm on the wind.

He pulls away, glaring at me. “Whatever happens to the rest of us,
you
live.”

My pulse going wild, stunned, I shove him and sputter, “Gross!”

Sort of.

Not really.

Damn.

Beta Sinta grins and dumps me off the horse. “Go. Turn invisible and hide.”

My jaw goes slack. “I’m not running away!”

His eyebrows slam down. “You’ll do as I say!”

“Yeah, when has that ever ha—”

My head whips around. Power stings my skin as an arrow whistles past, trailing Chimera’s Fire in its wake. My blood pulses, grabs the magic, and stops the arrow inches from Flynn’s chest. Flynn of the belly laugh. Flynn who defended me, who fought for me when I was in pain.

Fury paints the world red. I gather the scorching magic, flip the arrow around with a swipe of my hand, and then fling it back toward the bowman, ramming it through his eye.

“Gods, Cat!” Flynn breathes a sigh of relief. “That would’ve burned me alive.”

“Good thing I’m here,” I say saucily.

“And modest, as usual,” Beta Sinta mutters even though he looks impressed.

“You’re one to talk!”

“Go!” he growls.

I hold out my hand. “Give me my sword.” My knives are somewhere in Flynn’s bag.

He does. He thinks I’m going to run.

There’s another bowman nocking an arrow. He’s a little far away. I reach…reach…
Got it!
He lets fly, and the arrow spins crazily up and then back down again, splitting his skull.
Ha!

The Fisans roar in fury.

That’s right. I’ve learned new tricks.

They charge. Beta Sinta maneuvers his horse in front of me, blocking the first attack and bellowing at me to leave. Weapons flash. The Sintans form a solid wall of horse and muscle between my enemies and me. They’re fierce and thrilling to watch, and for a moment, I almost think the Fisans won’t get through. But four against thirty never goes well, no matter who the four are.

At first, I’m the only one on my feet. Hooves grind the earth. Dust flies in my eyes. Metal clashes, sparking, heating the air and dulling my ears. I’m not sure how long it takes to unhorse the Sintans, but they eventually end up on the ground. Apart from the dead bowmen, no one has magic. Except Otis. I know what he’s got, and I can’t wait to give some back.

A hole forms in my line of defense. Kato is down and bleeding from a long gash in his thigh. He rolls to avoid a downward thrust, kicks his attacker in the head with his good leg, and holds off another with his mace.

I race toward him, reaching for a dagger that isn’t there.

“Talia!”

I skid to a stop to face Otis. Stupid, but it’s not as if he doesn’t know it’s me. He leaps through the hole left by Kato, who’s now grappling with three men on the ground. Beta Sinta roars something I can’t make out over the clash of swords. He’s probably still trying to get rid of me. He wants me gone
now
? He hasn’t let me out of his sight for a bloody month!

“She’s mine!” Otis snarls.

Oh, good. He wants me all to himself.

“You murdering little bitch,” he spits. “You’ll pay for what you did.”

I scrunch up my face and make fake sobbing sounds. “He didn’t have it coming at all. Let’s all stop fighting and cry.”

“Did you enjoy slicing him open?”

Not one bit.
“Very satisfying. Really bloody. But you know all about that, don’t you?”

Otis smiles viciously. “Weakness is never rewarded.”

“Good thing I’m not weak.”

He smirks, gathering red-hot power in his hand and holding it there just to try to intimidate me. “You know what I can do to you.”

Yes.

“I’ve done it before.”

Now I can do it back.

There’s such maniacal glee in his eyes that it scares me. Not because I fear him, but because I could have
been
him.

The first lash comes too fast for me to defend myself. Long, thin, burning, the whip unfurls from his hand and strikes with the speed of a snake.

I cry out, a red welt rising across my neck and chest. With the pain and pulsing heat come a jolt of power as Otis’s Fire Magic fuses with my blood. I float on the wave of unfamiliar magic, readjusting. Then I grin, rather maniacally I imagine, and strike back.

Otis yelps and touches his face. The slash runs diagonally across his right eye, scorching off the middle of his eyebrow. His magic-induced injury doesn’t heal in a matter of seconds like mine does—another benefit of Poseidon’s gift.

“Just giving you a scar to match Beta Sinta’s.” I cock my head. “I’m rather impressed with my aim.”

Otis’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, snap together. “Beta Sinta?” He didn’t even know who he was fighting, or that attacking the people with me would constitute a major act of war. He didn’t care. “Traitor!”

“Blah, blah, blah.” I pretend to yawn.

“Cat!” Beta Sinta bellows. He throws off two men, plants a dagger in the sternum of another, and then sweeps his leg around to bring a fourth one crashing to the ground. He created an opening for me. “Run!”

Fierce, skilled, powerful—utterly commanding—right now, he’s hard to ignore. Good thing I’ve had practice.

“He wears the scar better,” I say, turning back to Otis. “It’s much manlier on him. By the way, how’s your mother?”

Otis bares his teeth, gathering magic in his palm again.

Are you stupid?

Now I remember. Yes.

My sword raised in my left hand, I catch the whip of flame with my right one and then send it back. Instead of letting go, I strike one, two, three times.

Otis screeches, red blossoming across his face, neck, and torso.

“Not much fun, is it?” I keep striking until his tunic hangs in shreds. The skin beneath is raw and blistered, oozing blood. When he attacks again, his fire doesn’t faze me. It only strengthens what I’ve already claimed.

I laugh at the flicker of fear in his eyes. Using the same magic never means doing it with equal power. Otis knows I can skin him alive.

“This is for me!” I slam the whip down on his head before redirecting it into a burning cage. I’ve never done it before, but I’ve watched Aetos turn his fire into a living sphere hundreds of times. At first, it wobbles and is more egg-shaped than round. Then it encases Otis as I gradually draw it down toward his feet. He shouldn’t be able to burst through. Only the creator of the sphere can break it. The magic originally came from him, though, so I’m not sure where that leaves us. In a gray area, to say the least.

I detach myself from the flames as soon as Otis is contained and look around. Kato is up again and still fighting, but his mobility is undermined by the serious injury to his leg. Carver is next to him, his blade moving so fast that no one can get too close. He’s intact, but tiring. Flynn is bloody, and his left arm is hanging uselessly at his side, but he’s still swinging with his right.

I don’t see Beta Sinta anywhere, and the way my stomach drops makes me ill.

Something crashes behind me, and I whirl. Beta Sinta is fighting like a madman and coming straight for me. Our eyes collide. He won’t reach me, not before the Fisans do. There are more than a dozen of them left, and there isn’t a spark of magic among them. Only swords, men, and muscle, and I don’t have enough fire whip to overcome more than a few. I have three minutes, maybe four, before they massacre the Sintans and are on top of me.

Someone darts around Flynn’s bad side and grabs my sword arm. I slam my other hand into his nose along with Otis’s magic. I let too much out at once, and the last of the fire whip leaves me. The Fisan’s face melts under my palm, leaving my hand hot with gore. I wipe the sludge on my pants and turn in uneasy circles, waiting for the next attack. My heart pounds as our situation sinks in. There are too many Fisans. The odds are impossible. The Sintans
can’t
win.

An idea takes hold. If Beta Sinta dies, I can go back to the circus. There will be no binding vow. No one who knows about me. I don’t have to fight. I could turn invisible. When it’s all over, I could slip away.

The thought presses on my chest like a lead weight. Not stopping to question why, I push it aside and fall to my knees, raising my hands to Olympus.

“Cat!” Beta Sinta roars.

I glance over my shoulder, my eyes narrowed.

“Get up! Fight!” His eyes are wild. His face is stark and splattered with blood.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn back around. I block him out. I block it all out—clashing metal, roaring men, the stench of fear and blood, and the feel of dust turned to thick, reddish muck sucking at my knees.

“Help me,” I whisper, not knowing what will happen. If
anything
will happen. “Please.”

The world drops away. My stomach heaves as I tumble down a long tunnel and then land with an icy splash, sinking deep into black water. My ears hurt and my lungs burn by the time I figure out which way is up and start kicking.

I break the surface and gulp down air, slapping water out of my eyes. I’m adrift on a vast ocean. It’s a dusk of shadows and gloom. The water is gray and churning where a storm brews on the horizon. Waves roll in—powerful, angry, dark.

“Poseidon!” My God Father might not be listening. He might not care.

I swim, looking frantically around. The waves are monstrous, and there’s no land in sight. I rise up on a swell and then plunge back down on a stomach-churning ride, salt spray stinging my eyes and nose.

The rough surf suddenly splits, the slippery back of a giant sea serpent slicing the water only an arm’s length away. I gasp and flail back. Its tail thumps my leg, and I let out a shriek. I know exactly where I just landed, and Poseidon’s Ocean Oracle isn’t known for its tolerance. It’s either going to help me or eat me. Right now, that’s anyone’s guess.