A Kiss of Fire: A Kiss of Magic Book 2 Read online

  “This isn’t over. Don’t you think for even a second that it is.”

  Then he kissed her again, brutalizing her mouth until she thought she would burn away like a wisp of moth wings set afire. She was too delicate for this. Too elegant and refined. She did not get savagely kissed in the bushes by barbaric strangers!

  She had no sooner had the thought then he was putting her away from himself, turning on his heel and stalking away. She stood there swaying in shock, unable to think. Unable to do anything but replay the fire of his kisses over and over again in her mind.

  It was quite a few minutes before she was composed enough to head back to the ballroom. She reached up and touched her hair. It was a mess. Half of the curls had been set free by his marauding hands. She couldn’t go back in there looking like this. Everyone would know.

  She felt that even if she’d been perfectly coifed she still would have felt as though he had branded her. As though everyone would know.

  She changed direction and took a path that led to the other side of the capitol building. She could sneak back to her rooms from there.

  Sin stormed down the garden path, his heart pumping hard, his body raging with need. His mouth burned with the memory of the feel of her. He had kissed her and she had kissed him back. No matter what she might convince herself of later, she had kissed him back. She had touched him, her hand molding to him. He throbbed in memory of her touch. He was hard and he was going to stay hard for quite a while he knew, so going back into that ballroom was not an immediate possibility.

  That left him with time to walk and to think.

  He had to have her. At any and all costs. But he knew he couldn’t court her in the way of her people. She would never have allowed it. One of the triumvir consorting with a Kiltian barbarian? Never. It would never be encouraged or accepted.

  Not her way.

  But his way—the way of his people—that was something different. That was the way he knew. The way he wanted to have her. But that was not going to be an easy task. He would need help. A lot of help. Had it been in his lands with one of his women, he would have done it alone…by himself. But as it was…

  After about fifteen minutes alone in the gardens he composed himself enough to return to the ballroom. The first thing he did was seek out his aides. With a short nod of his head he called them to him.

  “We leave now,” he told them brusquely.

  “Is something wrong?” Lindo asked.

  Lindo was Jadoc. He could read the minds and emotions of others. But in spite of that it would have been very obvious that something was disturbing him. He ran a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of frustration.

  “We need to go. I have to think and plan.”

  “Plan what?” Lindo asked.

  “I’m fairly certain you don’t want the answer to that,” Sin said.

  “I’m fairly certain I do with a comment like that.”

  Sin didn’t reply.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her like that. Like the philistine she thought he was. She was a woman of culture and refinement. She required lovemaking. Tenderness and thoughtfulness. He was capable of those things. He was. It was just that she was like fire in his blood. The fire that his hands could create was nothing compared to it. His blood had boiled the moment he had led her to touch him. The feel of those long graceful fingers through the material of his pants had blinded him to everything.

  He knew what he wanted to do. What he had to do. It didn’t matter that it might very well be an act of war to do it. If he did it right it was possible to avoid that.

  Possible. Not probable.

  He didn’t need this, he reasoned with himself. He had enough troubles at home without creating more for himself. It could be just the excuse others were looking for to move against him.

  No matter. He would commit to his course. He would have her. Whatever the cost.

  He would have her.

  Chapter Three

  Two months later

  Ariana laughed as the children all reached for her as a single entity, crowding and pressing against her, their hands outstretched. Some were turned palm up in expectation of the sweet she had just promised them, some were taking advantage of the forward press to touch her. She felt little hands clinging to her dress, stroking her skin.

  Her aide Mariah helped her put a sweet popum candy into each begging hand, not minding those who put both hands out in an enterprising way of getting more than one treat.

  “All right, you may go now,” she said.

  The children scurried away as a single entity, some lagging behind. One child stood looking at the candy in her hand with wide eyes and then looking up at her alternately.

  “Hello,” she said to the little orphan.

  She had come to read a story at one of the orphanages in the city, something she liked to do when she was feeling a little whimsical. She never planned these outings, she simply grabbed Mariah and a light guard and headed her carriage into the city.

  The snow would come soon and when it did travel in the city would become more difficult. She was taking the opportunity to get out while she still could. Oh, there would be sleighing and other such winter pursuits, but mostly it was about keeping indoors and staying warm. On St. Haulbruck’s day, the day the first real snow fell, there would be the impromptu celebrations welcoming winter. She always looked forward to that. Then there would be the High Winter celebrations at the mid-point of the season, when the winter carnival began. She looked forward to that too.

  Mostly she would be working by the fire, seeing to her daily duties and the support of their country. There was always work to be done. Always.

  She wished for the first time since becoming a triumvir that she could take a vacation. Go off somewhere and be free of work and all her many responsibilities. To be able to relax without worrying about how much tax to levy or how many new schools must be built. To not worry if orphans like these or those who were homeless had warmth and shelter from the winter.

  Although she might possibly be able to take time away to clear her head, she would never be able to stop fretting about one thing or another to do with her rule. There was simply no such thing as a vacation from her life.

  “Hullo,” the orphan returned her greeting shyly after many moments of silence, which was a good thing because her thoughts had run away from the orphan for a minute.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, lowering herself onto her knee. The child was incredibly small, though not a toddler by far. She had to guess about five autumns old.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Don’t got no name,” the child said with a shrug.

  “Jun!” One of the warren mothers came forward and put her hands on the child’s shoulder. The child flinched at the touch. “His name is Jun. You’ll have to excuse him. He’s only been here a few days.”

  “That’s not my name,” the child said with a grave shake of his head.

  “Well if you would tell us your real name we would call you by it,” she scolded gently. “Now come away.”

  “I tolds you my name. You don’t believe me.”

  The mother paled. “Come away.”

  “What’s your name?” Ariana asked, holding up a hand to stay her from herding the child away.

  “Bastard,” the little boy said plainly.

  Ariana felt a touch of cold on her heart. She suddenly knew it was the truth. Instead of a name, someone had given this child a derogatory word to be called by. The abusiveness was unpardonable.

  “I think I like Jun better, don’t you?” Jun was a very common name. Extremely common. It seemed to be the name mothers picked when they didn’t know what to name their child.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, perhaps we can choose a name you do like,” she suggested.

  He considered that for a moment. She realized then that he had very wise, aged eyes for such a small child. The mother reached out to stroke his hair and
again the child flinched. Ariana was beginning to realize that the child was used to a very different type of touching. The kind that goes along with a name like ‘bastard’.

  “I like your name,” he decided.

  “But my name is for a girl, not a boy,” she pointed out. At his disappointed expression she added quickly, “But we can make it a boy’s name. What do you think of Arian?”

  The boy visibly brightened, then immediately looked around with furtive eyes, as if should someone see the emotion on him they would take it away.

  “I like that,” he said.

  Ariana looked up at the warren mother. “This child’s name is Arian. See that everyone is introduced to him by the name.”

  “Yes my lady,” the mother said with a bright smile. “He’s barely said a word to anyone since he got here. You’ve got the touch my lady.”

  Ariana smiled slightly. It was one of the times where her importance had made a difference in a single life. She was glad of it. Glad the child had deemed her trustworthy enough to speak to simply because of the title she held.

  “Arian,” she said, making him beam at the use of his new name, “have you got your sweet?”

  He nodded and held out the hand which had it clutched so tightly it was probably going to melt.

  “Why don’t you go with the other children and enjoy it?”

  He shook his head. “Can you tell me another story first?”

  She glanced up at the clock and then at her aide. She had not told anyone where she was going and someone might come looking for her wondering where she had gotten off to. She didn’t want anyone to worry after her.

  “Perhaps just one more,” she said. She lowered into a cross-legged position and settled the child onto her lap. She began to tell him her story. It didn’t take long for the other children to notice and before she knew it they were all seated around her on the floor once more, listening to her with rapt attention.

  “One more!” Arian demanded when she was through. She put him onto his feet and rose to hers, her bottom feeling a little numb for have sat in such a way for so long.

  “I’m sorry I cannot. But I do promise to come visit again soon,” she said.

  Arian didn’t look as though he trusted her word on that. “I will come on St. Haubruck’s Day and we will play in the snow together,” she promised him. The children clamored and cheered. Before she left she gave Arian a little hug and made arrangements for a donation to be made to the orphanage. “To be used for your St. Haubruck’s Day celebration. All the sweet drinks and cakes and favors you can manage,” she said.

  “Yes my lady,” the mother said eagerly.

  Ariana took her leave. She pulled her warm woolen cloak tightly closed in front of her and made certain her hood was up to shield her identity from those passing her by on the street. It was late afternoon, bitterly cold and windy. She regretted not bringing the coach with her to the orphanage, but it had been warmer and sunnier when she had struck out and she had needed the walk.

  It had been thoughtless of her. Now Mariah and the guards must suffer the cold where she…she never grew cold. She could simply raise her body temperature or warm the air around her. She pulled Mariah close enough so that she could share in the warmth of her body and the air. It was no mean trick to exhibit that kind of control, to warm without catching fire. But she was more than skilled enough to accomplish it. She only wished she could do it in a wider radius, including the guards in the warmth.

  They were walking down an alleyway, heading toward the main streets when someone suddenly leapt from a doorway and struck her front guard hard over the head, rendering him immediately unconscious. Ariana swung sharply around toward the second guard, only to find him under similar attack. The guard had enough warning to reach into the mind of his attacker and begin to attack his brain. The attacker cried out, his hand going to his head. But then the guard jerked as though something had grabbed him and collapsed to the ground. The attacker sagged with relief and Ariana was aware of a third man, dressed in a cloak, stepping forward. Ariana shoved Mariah away from her, struggled to free her hands from her cloak, and then created a fireball between her hands. She reached and flung it forward, but before it could hit her target the fireball changed direction and was absorbed by a fourth man in a cloak. The first cloaked man turned to face her and she thought she recognized him from somewhere. Though she couldn’t place where. He walked up to her and simply said:

  “Sleep.”

  Ariana felt a powerful mind breeching all of her mental defenses and a sudden wash of undeniable sleepiness cascaded over her. Her knees went weak and she began to sink toward the ground, her eyes rolling back in her head. But before she hit the ground she was caught against a powerful, hard body.

  She fell asleep before she could identify who it was.

  Sin looked at Lindo, who nodded succinctly. Ariana was asleep and would remain so as long as the Jadoc was in charge of her mind. Sin scooped Ariana up into his arms, emanating warmth onto her because it was so cold and now that she was asleep she would not be able to do it for herself.

  He turned to face her aide.

  “Her name is Mariah,” Lindo said before he could ask.

  “Mariah. You have a choice. Either you stay here or you come with your mistress. The journey will be hard and long. Though I expect you’ll both spend most of it asleep. However, if you stay behind we will incapacitate you as we have done with the guards. It is a cold day to be lying unconscious on the ground.”

  Mariah didn’t even hesitate.

  “I will go with my mistress.”

  “Then sleep,” Lindo said.

  She did.

  Hundor, who had recovered from the guard’s attack on his mind, stepped forward to catch her before she hit the ground. Lindo walked ahead of them, altering the perceptions of anyone they came across. No one would see them carrying two unconscious women into the carriage that awaited them.

  Chapter Four

  Ariana stirred when a particularly hard jouncing awoke her from her sleep. The first thing she noticed was that she was cold. Very cold. The conveyance she was in jounced again and she tried to make out what she could in the near darkness. She began to warm herself by reflex as she strained to see around her. There was a small square window of sorts set high atop the conveyance. It let a little light in.

  And it was a conveyance. It was a coach, but unlike any coach she had even been in before. She quickly created a ball of fire and brightened the interior. The first thing she saw was Mariah lying curled up on the seat across from her. The other woman was shivering in her sleep and Ariana immediately switched sides of the coach and sat near her to keep her warm. The older woman’s shivering eased and Ariana smoothed back a strand of Mariah’s honey blond hair, tucking it back behind her ear. Once she was certain Mariah was warm enough, she stood up in the coach, wobbling as the coach struck some sort of rut in the road. She stepped up on the coach seat across from Mariah and, reabsorbing her fireball, she grabbed for the bars of the tiny square window with both hands, trying to pull herself up to see out of it. The window made it just to the level of her eyes if she stood on her tiptoes. She looked out and could see nothing but vast stretches of land, some wooded, some not, sprawling out around her. She could see it was nearing dusk. They couldn’t have been traveling for very long then, she thought. It had been dusk when they had been attacked. Provided it was the same day. That thought made her heart sink. How long had she been asleep?

  She dropped down into a sitting position again and created another fireball for her to see by. She looked at the structure of the coach. If not for Mariah she could simply set the coach on fire, burning it to ashes around herself, walking free of the burning embers unscathed. But as she looked at the walls of the coach she began to realize that, with the exception of the cushions she was sitting on, the coach was made completely of iron.

  She was powerful, potentially powerful enough to melt iron, but that would take just about all she had
and, again, there was Mariah to consider. Even if she could melt the iron around her, dripping scalding metal was very different than burning wood. She wasn't sure she could walk away unscathed from that. Even she could be burned under the right circumstance. And if she did burn her way out of the iron coach, she would likely have nothing left with which to fight those who were outside of the coach. She certainly wasn't powerful enough to go up against an Aspano majji, which was what the first cloaked man had obviously been.

  She regretted the impulse that had had her leaving the capitol with only two guards. But she had always thought she would be powerful enough to defend herself against anything. But all the firepower in the world meant nothing when someone could simply enter your mind and take control of it. It was why she always took an Aspano guard with her. To counteract any such attacks. But clearly the Aspano who had attacked them had been far more powerful than her guard had been. He had felt extremely powerful as he had entered her mind and bid her to sleep.

  But he had looked so familiar. She should be able to place an Aspano with that kind of power. He had the power to rival Dendri Adiron, the most powerful Aspano majji on their continent. But she would know of another majji of Dendri’s ability, wouldn’t she?

  “Unless he isn’t a majji,” she said aloud to herself.

  Then recognition blossomed in her mind. She didn’t know his name, couldn’t remember it, but she knew who he was. She had sat across a table for him for a week two autumns ago as he had provided aide to…

  No. It couldn’t be! He wouldn’t dare!

  Oh, but he would, she realized with cold, sinking dread in her belly that she could do nothing to warm. Raja Sin’s aide. That was who he was. And if his aide was involved in this than it was certain that Sin was a part of it as well.

  He must be mad! Kidnapping the leader of the Saren world? It was insanity. It was an act of war! It was…barbaric.

  She ignored the flutter of anxiety—was it anxiety?—curling in her belly. Yes. It had to be anxiety. It most certainly was not excitement. Anticipation? But not an eager anticipation, she told herself sternly. It was an apprehensive anticipation.