Seduce Me in Flames

by Jacquelyn Frank

  Almost.

  But Rush was a man of action and danger. He lived on the edge of his own spiking adrenaline. Court life would promise him nothing but the prickliness of the occasionally perturbed politico or noble. And he had said it himself: she was thriving in that venue. Finding her own strength and footing. She could and would learn to handle them all herself.

  So she really wouldn’t need him at all.

  Ambrea squared her shoulders, fighting back the scream of dismay moving reflexively through her soul. She pressed brief, angry fingers into her eyes, took a breath, and then turned to face the other two people in the room.

  “I think I might require some clothing,” she said steadily. “Something non-Allayan in fashion.” Allayan fashion meant bare shoulders and arms, a deep neckline and a low back. She wasn’t going to walk into that nest of treachery showing off her wounds. “What are the chances I can find something with long sleeves and a bit of elegance around an IM depot?”

  Ophelia smiled.

  “I think my sister is about your height. I’ll bet she can find you something.”

  The queen of Allay stormed back into her court with hard, snapping steps, her unbound hair flying behind her like a streak of whipping flames, the long sweeping panels of her gown fluttering with the speed of her movement. People barely had a moment to register their shock before they were forced to sketch hasty bows of respect. The entire room suddenly dropped low in honor of her, exposing her to the man lounging unsuspectingly in her throne.

  Had she been in a better place mentally, Ambrea might have taken a moment to enjoy the stuttering shock that smashed into her uncle as he stumbled hastily to his feet, his eyes growing wide as he took in her, her Tarian protector, and the IM guard at her back who was meant to ensure her safe return to her quickly commandeered political position.

  “This is a trick! You’re dead!” Balkin blurted out, his well-established temper gripping hold of him as, once again, she was reborn.

  “Oh, how you wish it were so,” she spat at him as she showed equal temper, marching up the dais so he would not be looking down on her. “But you see it is not. And so make your obedience to me, Uncle, or others here might think you do not love your empress!”

  Balkin lurched toward her, his face mottling with rage as she thrust at the pride that was his weakness. Rush was there in a heartbeat, a powerful hand planted hard in the Allayan heir’s chest, and his kinetic strength forcing Balkin back at a stagger. Balkin turned his rage to Rush, the only place he could think of to safely vent it without cutting off his own head.

  “You dare touch me, barbarian?” he nearly screeched. He went for the blade at his waist, but Rush was too quick for him this time. He grabbed the man by his wrist, forcing the blade back into its sheath.

  “That’s General barbarian to you, dickhead,” he took pleasure in saying loudly and firmly.

  It was a deflating reminder to the would-be heir of Allay that his empress had elevated Rush to the one and only position in all of Allay that would give him the right to beat him to a pulp, if necessary, or assassinate him, if desired.

  Desired by the living, breathing queen standing nearby.

  “Your days in this court are over, Balkin Tsu Allay,” she said coldly to him as she rounded the men to make sure she could see into her uncle’s eyes. “You are hereby exiled from the country of your birth. We are done giving you service and loyalty. You are no longer one of her sons, Balkin.” She didn’t have to make him sign away his name to extricate him from her life. “I am giving you a gift. Leave under your own power before the end of this day. Live free. Make something else of yourself. Or stay, push your rights if you dare, and give me time to trace evidence back to you of this attempt on my life. If you are caught in this country when I find it, and I think we both know that I will, then your life is forfeit. No wet rooms, no prevaricating. Not for me, Uncle. Without ceremony my general will seek you out and cut the head from your shoulders. Then I will show that the blood of my family runs in my veins and I will mount your head on a spike in Blossom Square so that no one can ever doubt that the traitor Balkin, formerly of Allay, has been dealt with and will not be making a miraculous return. Am I making myself resoundingly clear to you?”

  She reached to place a hand on Rush, pressing him back. Only she was aware of the moment of resistance he gave, feeling it in the bunching muscles of his chest and arm. But he did step back, although not before disarming Balkin of his most readily available weapon. Ambrea moved to stand toe to toe with her uncle, meeting his eyes squarely and for the first time in her life truly feeling no fear of him.

  “The Great Being has touched me, don’t you think, Uncle? Time and again you have tried to erase me from my destined path in life, and time and again I have come back. Can’t you see divine intervention for what it is? To take on the mortal flesh of your niece is one thing, but to be so arrogant as to think you can fly in the face of the obvious desires of our godliest guider, that is not only blasphemy but absolutely the densest example of arrogance I have ever seen. Go,” she breathed in his face. “Live. Choose life. Take what mobile wealth you have and live in comfortable retirement. Once you are gone from these borders, I will not hunt you with whatever proof of crime I find. But return to the land that spawned you and I promise you a view of Blossom Square like no other.”

  It seemed all of Allay was holding their breath, waiting—all except Balkin, who was breathing hard enough to give birth. Ambrea could see that he was thinking, tapping his lifetime’s experience with the law, seeking a loophole, some way to stop what she was doing. But she too had experienced a lifetime of imperial law. She too had studied, hoping to find a way around imperial decree. It was quite empowering to be on the other side of that equation. Perhaps more so because it was in the face of her tormenter.

  Balkin blinked. His head lowered and he bowed as deeply as she had ever seen him do.

  “I accept your generous offer, madam,” he said quietly.

  And for the very first time, Ambrea believed him. When he looked up at her, she saw the resignation in his eyes. The relief that washed through her was twice as powerful because she had honestly thought she would have to fight her uncle to the death.

  She held her hand out to him, took his hand in hers, and raised him up to full height.

  “Go,” she encouraged him softy. “You’re a man of strength and fortitude. There are worlds of challenges out there waiting for you.”

  Balkin nodded and sketched a last bow to her. Then he walked down the runner and, presumably, out of her life forever.

  “Letting him live is a mistake,” Rush said grimly as they watched him disappear out the door.

  “But it’s my mistake to make. And I’d rather make the mistake than have to keep my promise and behead the fool. I am not my father.”

  “Aye,” Rush said, shooting her a grin, “you’re something far better and a bit more dangerous I think.” He touched her under the chin with a finger and then herded her out of the throne room and into her private quarters so she could get some much-needed rest.

  Eirie was reeling. She ducked out the rear of the court and into the corridor, pressing her back to the cold marble wall as she sucked for breath and fought off nausea.

  How? How could she be alive?

  Eirie hastened for Balkin’s quarters. She swept in probably right on his heels and ordered the servants out immediately.

  “Don’t start with me, Eirie. This is over. I’m done. I never sought this. Clearly she cannot be defeated, and even if she dropped dead at my feet this instant I would not take the throne for fear she would resurrect before my eyes.”

  Eirie gaped at him, watching as he went straight to his security hold, unlocked it, and began to withdraw the wealth he had stored inside it. It was one of ten such holds that she knew of, and always she had seen him open them to place things carefully within, never to extract. There was cash, platinum, jewels, and hard data chips with account information on them. Balk
in reached for a satchel to put them in, unlocked it, and hastily tossed things inside.

  “If you leave you’ll be throwing everything away! The way she pants after that Tarian she’ll be spawning half-bred heirs in no time and everything we’ve worked for will disappear!” She was being shrill, she could hear it in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to control herself. Her entire future was circling the drain when moments ago it had been illustrious and secured.

  How had Ambrea done it? How had she survived?

  “I’m leaving and there’s the end of it,” Balkin barked. “I’m lucky she hasn’t already had me tossed in some dark, wet cell. I’ll not live out the rest of my days like she has lived most of hers. And if I stay, my days will end very shortly on the end of that Tarian’s blade, make no mistake about it. I’m going to live long and free a very wealthy man with some other fate.” He turned sharply to her. “Face facts, Eirie, and go pack your things. After all, you are in the worst of the danger. They’ll figure out it was you who had that robe dusted and sent to her. It’s only a matter of moments before they realize that you and I are actually connected. Court gossip will catch up with us.”

  “Leave?” She laughed, aghast. “And go where? Do what?”

  “We’ll find a nice country manse somewhere. Or perhaps live in the city in Ulrike. Between my money and yours, we could get a shoe into the social strata there, if you like to hobnob so much. The point is we’ll be living. Together.”

  This time, when she laughed, it drew all of Balkin’s attention. The laugh was a most perfect sound of derision, and he had never been on the receiving end of such before. The feeling it created inside him was not pleasant.

  “Do you really,” she said slowly with a smile of contempt shaping her lips, “think that I would go anywhere with such a weak fool? You are a breath away from being the second most powerful man on the planet of Ulrike and look at you! Look at you so eager to throw it away because you’re afraid of some stupid little girl!”

  Heat seared through Balkin, a streaming torch on his temper as he looked into that ridiculously beautiful face and saw what every man dreaded seeing, watched the movement of her lush lips and heard what every man dreaded hearing—the loss of his woman’s respect, love, and everything he wanted to be in her eyes.

  “I am the same man I have always been,” he said through his teeth. “A man wise enough to know when he should make a tactical retreat. And what are you? Just a vain, manipulative bitch who is using me to become the second most powerful woman on all of Ulrike. Do you think I am really so stupid that I don’t know exactly what you are? Exactly what you have done? But damn your gorgeous eyes, I love you all the more for it, Eirie. Your ambition, your strength—all of it can be put to other uses! Together we could burn other paths of power, move in social circles as an exiled prince and his bride. People eat that shit up. Everyone will want to know us. My wealth and yours will open any door you want. Simply name it and you will have it!”

  “I want to be Empress of Allay!” she screamed at him.

  “That will never happen. Unless she drops dead in the next half hour, I will be gone and won’t look back,” he informed her coldly. “So unless you have a miracle at hand, I suggest you kiss that desire good-bye and learn to make the most of it. Or you can stay and circulate amongst all those powerless politicians who have wanted to creep inside your ass for years now. You can fuck your way through a long line of weaklings, learning the true meaning of the word, and know that none of your wiles or ways will bring you any closer to the throne than I could.”

  And there it was, the real and frustrating truth of the matter. Panic began to swim through Eirie, sinking its claws deeply into her and crawling around inside her. She could never, after so many years of grooming herself and grooming Balkin for their true destiny, be satisfied with anything less than a crown.

  “Fine,” she hissed at him. “If you’ll do nothing, as usual, it’s up to me to provide that miracle you need!”

  She turned to leave and he lunged for her, grabbing her arm and swinging her back around to face him.

  “Eirie, if you murder the Empress of Allay and are caught, you will be executed for treason.”

  “A risk I’ve taken before and will take again because, apparently, I am the only one with the spine to do so!” she spat contemptuously. She yanked free of him and flew out the door, this time running down the corridors heading for Curta’s hidden dwelling.

  She burst into the conjurer’s rooms and found her standing there, patiently waiting for her.

  “All is lost for you,” Curta said softly and with pity.

  “Shut up, witch,” Eirie hissed. “If I am lost, then so are you! You provided those poisons. Those weak, ineffectual poisons!”

  “Effective enough to kill a boy king,” Curta reminded her with a shrug. “The poisoned robe was meant to be worn by an unprotected girl hidden away in exile. Not an empress with a hero to protect her. A very special hero. You would be wise to make your escape with Balkin,” the conjurer advised quietly, “lest the queen’s hero consume you like redemptive fire. For that is what he is. The fire of redemption.”

  “I’ve heard enough from weak, sniveling idiots for one day. Can you give me a weapon to kill the empress?”

  Curta shrugged a shoulder and turned to pack a few more things into an open bag. That was when Eirie realized that Curta, too, had every intention of abandoning Blossom Palace. She had a mobile trunk already packed so full that it looked as though it might burst. The shoulder bag she was currently packing looked just as overburdened.

  “No! You cannot leave until you give me one last chance! Ambrea trusts me enough to let me get close to her. The opportunity to strike is on me at this moment. It will be gone soon if I don’t act!”

  “Resolve yourself to a different future, Eirie,” Curta said quietly. “Fate has walked its steps around you. Don’t make it whip back and eye you too closely.”

  Eirie stepped into the other woman’s personal space, her face pushed into hers. “Fuck you and your backward mysticisms. You’ve been wrong too often to suit my tastes, woman. Give me what I’m asking for!”

  Curta straightened away from the noblewoman and reached into her pocket with two fingers. She pulled out a small aerosol container and dangled it in front of Eirie.

  “A single spray into her face and she will breathe it in and, within seconds, will never breathe again. It paralyzes the diaphragm and lungs. She will suffocate slowly and painfully. But she won’t be able to speak to accuse you. Only take care not to breathe it in yourself once it is airborne. Hold your breath for at least ten seconds, and then it will dissipate and be gone. And now I am gone. You’ll never see me again. I have seen my future and you are never in it again, nor will I die in the land of Allay. Perhaps you should consider a like future for yourself.”

  Curta sealed her bags shut, grabbed hold of both of them, and made her way around Eirie, whose full fascination and attention was on the little aerosol canister.

  It was just small enough to fit down the cleavage of her dress and easily concealed in the palm of her hand.

  “Perfect,” she breathed.

  Rush settled Ambrea into bed, touching her damp forehead with gentle fingertips.

  “You’re in pain,” he noted. It wasn’t a question. He knew it as naturally as he knew how to breathe. He believed he would know everything about her that easily from now on.

  She didn’t deny it. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Her pain, no doubt, was countered by her uncle’s acceptance of defeat. But Rush wouldn’t be happy until the bastard was off getting drunk in some hole somewhere accepting the fact that the better person had won. Right now he wasn’t even sure that Balkin had that kind of conciliatory behavior in his makeup.

  “Rush, how long will you stay?”

  “Until you fall asleep,” he said.

  Her eyes flew open and in a wild streak of emotion he saw her panic.

  “So soon? But just because my uncl
e is put in his place doesn’t mean my throne is by any means secure! You promised to help me at least be that safe.”

  Rush blinked, and then his expression softened, his hands gently framing her face. “I meant for the moment, sweetheart. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

  “Oh.”

  It was probably because she was in pain and so exhausted by her ordeal, but she couldn’t catch the telling sob that erupted from her. And before she knew it, she was crying, an open mess of emotions she didn’t want to show, weakness and neediness all rising to the surface. And the more he touched her, the more he tried to soothe her, the worse it seemed to become.

  “Hey now. Shh. It’s all going to be all right,” he said softly and surely, pulling her head under his chin and holding her against the warmth and strength of his chest.

  “No, it won’t,” she argued in a rush before she could catch her own tongue. “Because one day you’ll leave me and I know how fast it will come. But I won’t want you to go. Not because I will be afraid to lead by myself, but because—”

  “Because?” he prompted her softly, a steady, intense expression in his eyes as he made her look into them.

  “Because it will hardly mean anything without you, Rush. I know I’m going to seem foolish and weak to you. An inexperienced girl forming imagined attachments to her first lover. How common I am. How ridiculous.”