A man stood outside, silhouetted by the snow. He wore a gray coat, and it was difficult to see his face in the darkness, but she would’ve recognized the straight edge of his shoulders and the tangle of his curly hair anywhere.
“Kelan,” she whispered.
He had come for her. She had wished it and he had come.
He waved at her and she waved back. Would he know she was happy to see him?
But how could she get down? She couldn’t get through the window, and Jahr was in the hallway.
She brushed her fingers against the tingly emberstone in her pocket. No, she couldn’t burn her way out. She wasn’t skilled enough to control the emberstone, and she couldn’t risk setting the whole manor on fire.
She glanced around the room, searching for some means of escape, and her gaze rested on the wooden chair near her vanity. Maybe there was a way out.
With great effort, she shoved the dresser across the floor and pushed it against the door, wedging it against the door handle. It wouldn’t give her much extra time, but hopefully enough.
She pressed her face against the glass to check if Kelan was still there and waved to him again. Then she picked up the chair and slammed it against the window.
Glass shattered, and the windowpanes smashed to pieces on the ground and cut her hands. Several glass shards flew into her face and sliced her cheeks. But she didn’t care. She was getting out.
She used the chair legs to smash open the window, making a hole in the wall big enough to jump through.
“Lady Isabella?” Jahr shouted on the other side of the door. He jiggled the handle and swore. The dresser bumped and skittered, and the door thumped when he threw himself against it.
“Kelan!” Sol shouted through the window.
“I’m here,” he said, and her heart thrilled at the sound of his voice. “Jump. I’ll catch you.”
Her stomach fluttered. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again.
She threw her makeshift bedroll into the snow beside him and used the chair to climb up onto the window ledge. Sharp glass cut her boots, and she kicked the window shards away as she balanced on the edge. Kelan stood below her with his arms outstretched, but her stomach flipped as she judged the distance between them. It was a long fall.
Something heavy smashed against her door. Another chair?
She took a deep breath to steady herself and jumped. It was a quick drop, and a yelp escaped her throat as she slammed into him. They fell hard into the snow, and he gasped. But Sol smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck and touched his smooth, clean-shaven face.
“Kelan,” she murmured. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”
He took her hands in his and rolled on top of her. He broke away from her kisses and bent upward, pressing her hands hard into her chest.
“You lied to me,” he said, his eyes hard.
“No, Kelan, I—”
He clamped a hand over her mouth as Commander Birke appeared above her and tied ropes around her wrists. When Kelan lifted her from the snow, someone else came from behind and gagged her. She stared dumbly at Kelan, unable to comprehend what was happening.
But as the gag was pulled tight over her mouth, she understood.
Kelan was a soldier now, and she was Lady Isabella. None of that time in the woods together meant anything to him. She squirmed and tried to scream, but the gag muffled the sound.
“Lady Isabella!” Jahr shouted from her window. Kelan and her two assailants startled, and Kelan’s hands sparked.
“Flameskins!” Jahr shouted. “Guards!”
Kelan hurled a ball of fire at the window, and Jahr ducked inside before it exploded against the house.
Then Kelan turned toward her, an ugly snarl marring his handsome face. His voice was dark and horrible. “We’ll burn the manor to the ground.”
Kelan had been possessed.
Chapter 33
Kelan
Kelan led the horse through the snow with Lady Isabella draped over its saddle and lashed to it with rope. Isabella’s lashes were wet and icy. Her hair tumbled loose from her head and her hat was gone.
His pyra simmered with pleasure, and it stretched his face into that crooked smile Kelan had seen Markus wear so often. She screamed something into her gag when he looked at her and squirmed atop the horse.
She’s ours, his pyra hissed in his mind. We will make her suffer.
“She came when you called,” Haldur said. “How interesting.”
Kelan looked back at her again. But why would she? If everything had been a lie, why did she jump right into his arms? Uncle Haldur had insisted they try to lure her out of the house, once Kelan had explained their relationship, and how she had manipulated him.
Had not all of it been a lie?
“We’re as surprised as you are,” Kelan said, his voice twinned with his pyra’s.
Haldur gave him his best attempt at a smile—Kelan’s reward for finally giving himself over to his pyra. Kelan should’ve been horrified, but he wasn’t. Sol had proved to him that no amount of trying could change what he was.
They will always hate us. That’s why we must destroy them.
Officer Osten led them at a quick pace, but he kept glancing behind them at their moonlit tracks. “We should slit her throat and dump her in the snow.”
“No,” Kelan’s pyra hissed. “We want her death to be slow. We want to watch her burn.”
“The soldiers can’t be far behind,” Osten said.
“We’ll split up,” Haldur said. “I’ll take the horse and make a false trail. Osten, you go back to the house and tell the men we’ve got Isabella and that we’re leaving. Kelan, you take Isabella, and hide the body when you’ve finished.”
“There will be no body left to hide,” Kelan said. The thought gave him a thrill of pleasure. The power to burn anything, to turn even the unbreakable Lady Isabella to ash.
“But, Commander—” Osten argued.
“Those are the orders,” Haldur said. He put a hand on Kelan’s shoulder. “He’s finally given himself over to possession. I think this is fair compensation.”
Kelan glanced at Isabella. Her face was drawn and terrified.
Good. Let her fear us. We were meant to be feared.
“Meet back at camp in an hour. We’ll leave immediately,” Haldur said.
“An hour isn’t enough time,” Kelan said.
“Make it enough. We have to be out of the foothills before the soldiers start searching for her in the mountains.”
Kelan untied Isabella from the saddle and slung her over his shoulder. She was still as heavy as before, but now his pyra had full possession of his body. It pumped fire into his shoulder and his legs, strengthening them so he could barely feel her weight. Isabella thrashed, but her wrists and ankles were bound, and Kelan held her tight. She beat at his chest with her tied hands.
Kelan grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. “Stop,” he growled.
Her thrashing slowed as she gasped for air through her gag. His pyra laughed inside him, a sound like crackling fire.
The three of them separated, Uncle Haldur leading the horse through the snow, Kelan with Isabella, and Osten hurrying toward the city to get the other spies.
Isabella hung limp over his shoulder as Kelan hiked through the foothills. Why had he resisted his pyra so long? He was stronger than he had ever been. A mountain climb that had once seemed daunting was now a welcome challenge.
Once they were out of view of Olisipo, Kelan dumped her into the snow and stood over her, his lips curled into a scowl. The Lady Isabella. She flailed in the snow, trying to get away from him, but he stomped on her chest, pinning her in place with his boot.
She wore that ratty, burned fur coat. It wasn’t a good enough disguise to fool him anymore. Isabella yanked with her fingers at the gag around her mouth and pulled it free. Good. He wanted to hear her plead for her life, and hear her screams as he burned her.
“Kelan, please. I�
�m not Lady Isabella.”
“Don’t tell us more lies,” Kelan said, his voice low and dark and laced with crackling energy. “You always hated us. You used us to get down the mountain so you could call your armies to destroy us.”
He yanked off one of her boots. He would burn her from her toes to her head, slowly, so she could feel the flames crawl across every inch of her skin.
“I’m just Sol, just the huntress. I never lied to you. They forced me to take Lady Isabella’s place. I was trying to run away. I thought you had come to rescue me.” Her voice broke into a sob.
Fire wrapped around Kelan’s hand, and he brought it closer to the sock on her foot. He grinned as her eyes widened and she tried to kick away.
Burn her. Burn her!
He had no real control over his own body anymore. His pyra manipulated his hands and spread fire through his veins. It held the flame far enough from her foot not to burn her, but close enough for her to feel its heat.
But his pyra hesitated as he looked over her. We’ll take her, Kelan, it said. It quivered inside him with the anticipation of pleasure. We’ll take what she owes us. We can burn her after.
His pyra sucked the fire back into his hand and brought Kelan down onto his knees. He knelt over her, a crooked grin twisting his face. Some part of him resisted, but his pyra was stronger. It wanted to hurt Sol in every way possible.
“Kelan, stop,” she begged. “I know you’re in there somewhere. Fight back!”
“There’s nothing to fight.” He unbuttoned her coat with agitated hands.
“You promised,” she sobbed. “You promised you wouldn’t become this monster. You promised you wouldn’t hurt me. You said you loved me!”
He recoiled from her, sitting back on his heels.
She’s manipulating us again. Nothing she says matters.
But he still loved her. He didn’t want to hurt her.
His head ached and fire burned inside his mind, chasing away his thoughts. His pyra manipulated his memories, twisting them into darkness and pain, and whispered death in his ear. Kelan pressed his palms to his eyes and shuddered as fire ripped through his mind.
“Fight it, Kelan! Don’t let it take you.”
“No!” Kelan’s pyra roared. “Never!”
He crouched over her, breathing hard.
We will burn her to ash and listen to her scream.
And Kelan couldn’t remember if he had ever thought he wanted to do anything else. There was only the need to destroy, the need to burn, the need to watch Isabella suffer.
He grabbed her foot and fire shot out of his hands, leaping up her body. Flames consumed her sock and grabbed at the hem of her pants and the ropes that encircled her ankles. She screamed and writhed, but he held tight. His body flooded with euphoric heat as he watched the fire grow.
Everything must burn.
Isabella twisted to the side and tried to yank her foot free. But he didn’t let go. Then she reached for his hand and pressed something hard against his skin.
His pyra evaporated.
He tried to pull away, but she grasped at his fingers, squeezing the emberstone to his skin as she shoved her burning feet into the snow.
“Please still be there,” she begged.
He yanked the emberstone from her hand.
“Don’t throw it!”
He sank into the snow, grasping the stone tightly, as if it were a lifeline. No, he wouldn’t throw it. He’d never let go of it again. The fire left his blood, and his mind cleared, leaving only thoughts of Sol.
He yanked the manacle out of his pocket and snapped it onto his wrist, then crawled toward her.
“Sol,” he sobbed. “I burned you.”
“I had my emberstone. You didn’t hurt me.”
Though one leg of her pants was charred, her skin was undamaged. He hurriedly ripped at the ropes and freed her ankles, then moved to her wrists. Once her hands were loosed, she wrapped them around his neck.
“Is it you, Kelan?” she asked, searching his eyes.
“It’s me. I’m so sorry, Sol.”
She held him tight, and he squeezed her to him as a shudder wracked his body. He had tried to kill her; he had thought she was burning, and he had reveled in her pain.
“Forgive me. I would never have hurt you.”
“It’s over. You’re back,” she whispered. She rubbed her wet cheeks against his shoulder.
He kissed her forehead and wiped away a tear at the corner of her eye. “And are you Sol, or Isabella?” It didn’t matter. He would’ve loved her whatever her name was.
“Isabella’s dead. They made me take her place and they were going to force me to marry that beast, Turullius. I tried to run away. I was going to find you, Kelan.”
He pulled her up to sitting and crushed her to him. “Ashes. How did this happen?”
He kissed her forehead again because he didn’t know if she would let him kiss her lips, but he couldn’t not hold her and touch her. He needed her. Now that they were together again, he was never going to let her go. He laced his fingers together around her back, beneath her coat. “I’ll never take off this manacle again. I promise you that.”
“Is that so?” Lieutenant Ager asked.
Chapter 34
Kelan
Kelan scrambled to his feet, his heart lurching in his chest. Nilsa and Osten stood below them, near the edge of the cliff-side path that led toward Olisipo. Nilsa’s face was pulled into a cruel sneer.
“Nilsa,” Kelan said, his breath catching. He pushed Sol behind him, blocking her from view. “She isn’t Lady Isabella. We were wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter who she is,” Osten said. “Prince Turullius thinks she’s Isabella, and he’s got soldiers scouring the city looking for her. You were supposed to kill her.”
“I won’t.”
Sol clung tight to his arm. He slipped her pa’s emberstone into her hand. At least that would give her some protection against Nilsa’s fire. Kelan could unlock the manacle and get his pyra back, but his pyra would try to hurt Sol after it had destroyed Nilsa and Osten, and he had no guarantee he could get the manacle back on again.
The two soldiers walked toward them along the edge of the cliff, following the path toward the bluff where they stood. Fire sparked on Nilsa’s fingers, and her eyes burned with the savage fire inside her.
“What has she done to you, Kelan?” she hissed. “Why would you wear an emberstone?”
Sol pulled a jeweled dagger out of her belt and held it in one hand, poised to throw. “I’m a dead aim with a knife.”
Nilsa stopped short, but the fire in her hand sparked and swirled tightly around her fist.
“Let us go,” Kelan said. “I’ll take Sol away from here, where Turullius won’t be able to find her.” Sol stepped closer to Kelan and reached into his coat pocket.
Nilsa took a few steps forward with Osten advancing tentatively behind her. Fire swirled around her hand and up her arm. “Can’t you feel the call to destroy? I can get your pyra back, Kelan. I can help you.” She extended one burning hand to him.
“I won’t be a demon.”
Nilsa snarled and raised her flaming hands. Fire shot over her arms and up her sleeves, burning her coat and sending pieces of ash over the white snow.
“Kill him,” Osten said.
Nilsa shoved Osten into the snow with a burning hand, setting his coat on fire. “I don’t take orders from you.” But she turned back toward Kelan and leapt across the snow, gathering fire between her fingers.
Sol had grabbed Kelan’s wrist, and the lock on his manacle clicked open. The shackle fell into Sol’s hand as fire erupted from Nilsa’s fists.
“No!” Kelan shouted.
His pyra blossomed in his blood, and Nilsa’s fire struck his chest, knocking him backward into Sol. He hit the snow with a sizzle of ice and a cloud of steam, but was on his feet before he could think.
His pyra wore his body like a glove, pushing fire into his arms and legs. Flames f
lickered behind his eyes, turning everything to red and gold. Sol lay in the snow behind him, forgotten, as he stood and turned toward Nilsa.
She attacked us. She will burn.
Kelan advanced slowly. The snow around him melted and evaporated at his feet. Fire consumed Nilsa. It ate her coat, revealing the leather fire-proof armor she wore underneath. Flames crawled over her legs and her arms, and flickered through her black hair.
Osten got to his feet and Kelan threw out a blast and knocked him down again. Osten was no threat. What mages could do with fire was a shadow of Kelan’s powers. Osten pretended he could summon and control fire, but Kelan had been born with it in his blood. Nilsa was his only worthy adversary.
“Come back to us, Kelan. We could burn the world together.” Her voice hissed in her throat, and her eyes burned.
Nilsa didn’t want him to come back. Her pyra wanted a fight, and that’s what he would give her.
He crouched low and gave her a vicious smile. “You always thought you were better than me.”
“It’s the truth. We’ll tear you apart and bring your ashes back to your uncle.” She crackled with laughter and sparks danced over her skin. Her face flickered with tongues of fire running up her skin, and all he could make out were her violet eyes. They looked red in the light of her fire.
Flames shot out of Kelan’s hands. His pyra moved him into a crouch and then a dive as he leapt to avoid Nilsa’s fire.
Nilsa had been possessed early and had worked in tandem with her pyra for a long time. She always used to beat him when they sparred. But now Kelan had given complete control to the monster inside him.
Nilsa didn’t stand a chance.
The hill steamed and exploded with flames and ice and splashes of melted snow. Kelan’s pyra leapt at Nilsa, taking Kelan’s body with it. Fire exploded out of Kelan’s skin, but instead of wasting it to let it crawl all over his skin like Nilsa, his pyra kept it tightly controlled inside his hands, two streams of raw energy fueled by his anger and his hate and the joy of destruction. A column of fire shot out of him and struck Nilsa, shoving her backward and dropping her into a roll.
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