Ignite

by Sara B. Larson

  Rylan’s eyes widened. “How do we know they’re coming?”

  “A runner arrived in the middle of the night to announce them.”

  “Come on, Ry, let her sleep. She’s been up all night,” Mateo called from down the hall.

  Rylan didn’t move, continuing to study my face. “Is there anything else?”

  “What do you mean?” I hedged. The way he stared at me made me want to squirm, to turn away. Instead, I forced myself to lift my chin and hold his gaze.

  He started to raise one hand, but when I flinched, Rylan froze. Finally, after a pause, he let his hand drop. “Mateo’s right. I should let you sleep.” He took a step back.

  I reached for the door, ready to shut it on him, but then he hesitated again and looked directly into my eyes. “If you ever want to talk about anything … you know I’m here for you. Right?”

  I nodded once, a quick jerk of my head. “I know.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, but before I could decipher what, he’d nodded and looked away. “All right. Rest well. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  I watched him walk away silently for a moment. Now that I was truly alone, I let my exhaustion get the better of me. As I entered my room, I unhooked my scabbard and let it fall to the floor. Then, without even bothering to change out of my uniform, I curled into a ball on my bed, boots and all. I was drained, yet part of me was afraid to go to sleep. My nightmares were getting worse and worse. I never knew what horrible monster would come after me in my sleep anymore.

  But, finally, I couldn’t fight it any longer. My eyes shut and I was gone.

  * * *

  A pounding at my door jerked me awake; I sat straight up with a strangled gasp, clutching at my damp shirt right above my heart. Sweat coated my skin. My hands shook and my heart raced. Iker haunted me. His unholy fire chased me through my dreams, burning me over and over again. Whenever I thrust my sword through him, it came out charred instead of bloody. No matter how many times I struck him, he never died. Instead, his eyes glowed with the fires of the demons whose power he’d wielded, as he laughed and laughed at me….

  There was another loud pounding on my door, and I hurried to rise and strap my scabbard back on. “I’m coming!” I called out.

  As I crossed the room, a whisper of pain streaked down my jaw and neck, an echo of the fire that had caused the scars. I paused before reaching for the doorknob, lifting my hand instead to touch the ruined skin of my face, a gesture that was quickly becoming a habit. My disfigurement was a constant reminder of my success — but also of my losses.

  Deron was standing outside my door looking apologetic when I finally swung it open. “I’m sorry to wake you, but we need every available guard immediately. The delegation has already been spotted nearing Tubatse. They will be at the palace within the hour.”

  My heart lurched into my chest. They’d already reached the capital city, just below the palace? “It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.” I closed the door behind me and followed my captain down the hallway. From the light streaming in through the window, it appeared to be mid-morning. I’d only slept a few hours, then. I could feel the lack of rest in the achiness of my body — an exhaustion that went beyond my head, deep into my muscles and bones. “Do we know how many there are? Or who is with them?”

  Deron shot me a piercing glance. “If you’re wondering about any sorcerers, King Damian has asked Eljin to scout them out and see if he can sense any before they arrive. But they’re on horseback, so it will be difficult to get close enough to tell.”

  I nodded. Eljin had surprised us all by offering to stay after the coronation, rather than returning to Blevon with his father, General Tinso. He made most of the palace staff nervous, but I was greatly relieved to know he was here, as were Damian, Rylan, and all those who knew who he truly was — and what he could do. He and Tanoori, who had also stayed at the palace, had even become friends. Over the past month, I’d seen them walking and talking together quite a bit, but I hadn’t had a chance to ask her about their friendship yet — she was busy with her assignment overseeing the displaced women from the breeding house and heading up Damian’s initiative to reunite mothers with their babies whenever possible, and my days were filled with my duties.

  “Where is the king?” I asked as we hurried down the stairs to the ground level of the palace.

  “He’s in the main throne room, awaiting the delegation. The runner from Dansii is there with him, as is the rest of the guard.”

  I wondered why the Dansiians were already here. The runner had said they were a day or two behind him. It made me nervous that we hadn’t had time to increase the number of guards before they arrived. Our only hope was that they didn’t have a black sorcerer with them. I didn’t think I could fight another one yet, especially after only a couple of hours of restless sleep in which I’d been unable to defeat Iker no matter how hard I tried.

  Although we were walking quickly, it seemed to take too long to get to the king. I wasn’t sure why, but something deep inside told me I had to be by his side when the delegation arrived. Standing next to Damian was one of the hardest places in the world for me to be, but it was where I belonged. It was where he needed me to be.

  Finally, we reached the correct hallway, and I watched impatiently as Deron pushed open one of the heavy doors, and then I followed him into the massive room — the same one where Damian’s coronation was staged a month ago.

  The king of Antion sat on the throne, wearing his signet crown and collar of office, watching me as I strode down the length of the room to reach his side. His expression was inscrutable even though the room was full of golden sunshine, much like the day when he’d led his people to all bow to me. Our eyes met and held for a brief moment, and then he turned away to glance at an unfamiliar man in a long white tunic and plain brown pants that reached his ankles, standing below the throne to his left, who also watched my approach.

  The stranger’s expression was easily discernible: Disbelief curled his lip. He had red hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose, reminding me of Asher, but that’s where the similarities ended. While Asher was tall and strong, and also quick to smile, this man was small and wiry, and his thin lips turned down at the corners. His hair was sparse on top of his head, and his eyes narrowed as he silently appraised me, his gaze first landing on my chest, then on my scars. I looked away, back to my king, as I came to a halt in front of the throne where he stood to greet us. A combination of indignation and shame twisted my stomach. I still struggled when people openly stared at my disfigurement.

  “Sire,” I said, pressing my fist to my shoulder and bowing deeply at the waist to Damian.

  “You may rise,” he said, his voice holding a note of tension. I straightened and ascended the stairs to take my place on his right side. Rylan moved over for me. Everyone knew that the king wished for me to be directly beside him whenever I was on duty. But very few knew all the reasons why.

  Deron stayed at the base of the stairs, subtly moving closer to the runner from Dansii. The rest of the guard flanked the king, four to each side of the throne. Rylan and I and two of the new guards — Julian and Oliver — on the right. Asher, Mateo, Jerrod, and the other new guard, Leon, on the left. Looking at them reminded me that I wasn’t the only guard who bore scars from King Hector’s rule. Deron, Asher, Mateo, and Jerrod all bore matching red lines on their faces — their punishment for “letting” Eljin kidnap the prince, even though none of them had been on duty. But none was quite as disfigured as I was, after my battle with Iker. For some reason, people seemed to respect them more because of the marks on their faces. I was the only one who got the stares and whispers. I never knew if it was because of the striated, silvery scars covering my cheek, jaw, and neck on one half of my face, or the fact that I was a girl. Or both.

  “I hope you were able to rest well,” Damian finally spoke.

  For a split second, I thought he was talking to me, but the runner from Dansii r
esponded before I could embarrass myself by answering the king.

  “The accommodations were quite suitable,” the man said in our language, though his accent gave him away as being from Dansii. His was much stronger than Asher’s, who had moved to Antion as a boy. “Though I hated to be woken quite so early after my long night of travel.”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience. We received word that the delegation was nearly here, however, and we assumed you would wish to be present at their surprisingly early arrival.” Damian’s voice was carefully neutral, but I could sense his unease in the stiffness of his posture as he sat on his throne, looking down at the man.

  “They must have made better time than anticipated,” he murmured. His gaze slid to me, for some reason, and then quickly back to the king. I didn’t like the way he looked at me — the disbelief was gone, replaced by a calculating gleam in his eye that unsettled me.

  “Indeed,” Damian commented.

  Silence weighed heavily for a long space of time, and then the runner finally spoke again. “The delegation traveled by horse, so I must have misjudged the amount of time it would take for them to reach the palace.”

  “I hope you found the roads to be in good condition.” Damian sounded slightly bored now, but I was fairly certain it was an act.

  “They were in tolerable condition — especially for a jungle kingdom. They could do with some upkeep, but they were passable, so I suppose that is commendable. Although the same cannot be said for some of the villages we passed through.”

  Damian’s fingers tightened on the armrests of his throne, but other than that, he gave no outside indication of his displeasure. “Well, as you say, we do a tolerable job. For a jungle kingdom.” He paused, letting the sarcastic bite to his words sink in. “And especially considering the great toll the war took on our nation and people.”

  “Ah yes. The war that is now over. All thanks to you, if I’ve heard correctly.” Again the runner’s gaze flickered to me and then back to the king.

  I glanced down at Damian out of the corner of my eye. Tension coiled around him, but he kept his expression slightly amused, as if this man were nothing more than a nuisance. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Felton, Your Majesty.” He gave a tiny bow.

  Before Damian could say whatever he’d been planning on next, the doors at the other end of the long hall opened. One of the sentinels entered. He saluted Damian and then loudly announced, “The delegation from Dansii has arrived and requests permission to come before Damian, king of Antion.”

  My hand immediately dropped to rest on the hilt of my sword. There was no word from Eljin yet, so until they got close enough for Damian to feel for himself, we wouldn’t know if they had any sorcerers with them.

  Damian moved as though he was about to stand but then apparently changed his mind and relaxed back into his throne.

  “Let them enter,” he said.

  I felt Rylan stiffen next to me as we prepared for whoever — or whatever — was about to come through the doors.

  And then the door closest to Damian flew open and Eljin burst in.

  ELJIN RAN INTO the room without pausing to acknowledge anyone or even to bow before bounding up the steps and bending over to whisper in Damian’s ear. I longed to know what he was saying, but I kept my eyes on the back of the room where the first four men from Dansii were walking in, dressed in matching outfits, the likes of which I’d never seen before. Dried mud splattered their boots and the loose black pants visible beneath their long white tunics, which extended to the middle of their calves. On top of the tunics, they wore matching sleeveless overcoats made of some sort of rough fabric, dyed a rich purple. Another length of cloth the color of sun-baked sand wound loosely around their necks and up over their heads. Wicked-looking curved swords hung at their sides. These were not outfits made for surviving the heat of the jungle — this was the garb of men from the deserts of Dansii, where the wind, sun, and bitter cold nights were the enemy, rather than storms, heat, and deadly predators.

  My heart racing, I glanced down at Damian, trying to read his reaction. Eljin looked up at me quickly before turning to face the Dansiians. The look he gave me was one of warning, causing my stomach to drop. I tensed my muscles, preparing for whatever was coming.

  The four men came into the room with matching strides, marching halfway toward the throne before halting and turning to face each other in twos. We watched in silence as another man came through the door. He wore no weapons and was dressed in what appeared to be religious robes of some sort. Did they worship sorcerers in Dansii? I had no idea. His black robe and white overvest reached the floor, and a red sash was tied at his waist. He walked slowly toward the four armed men, his face composed and his eyes on the king. Just before he reached them, he stopped.

  “King Damian of Antion, I have the deep honor of presenting Lady Vera of Dansii. She comes to bear King Armando’s condolences on your father’s death, as well as congratulations on your ascension to the throne and the good wishes of the nation of Dansii for a continued alliance.” The man’s voice carried through the hall, and he bowed deeply to the king. I had to fight to keep my expression neutral, to keep my confusion from showing. A lady? All of this was to introduce a woman? I turned questioningly to Eljin, but he still stared forward, his face unreadable above his ever-present mask.

  Felton fidgeted below me, and I glanced down to see him looking at the king in anticipation, a smirk on his face. What was going on? What was I missing?

  Rylan suddenly inhaled sharply next to me, and my gaze snapped up to catch sight of the single most beautiful woman I’d ever seen gliding into the room. There was no other word for the way she moved. It certainly wasn’t anything as mundane as walking. And it definitely wasn’t marching or striding, the way I usually did. Damian straightened in his throne, giving up the pretense of uninterest. A sudden, sharp pain hit me in the chest, white hot and unwelcome.

  Lady Vera wore a dress of deep blue that skimmed the floor as she moved toward us, and showcased her alabaster skin to great advantage. She was as pale as Asher and Felton, but she looked like a statue made of ivory — and every bit as perfect as a sculptor could only dream of creating. She continued past the man who’d announced her. He followed her toward the throne after she’d walked by. The four armed men fell into line behind her as well. She was significantly shorter than the men behind her, but her presence more than made up for her lack in height. Her eyes were on the king, and her mouth turned up in a hesitant smile when she noticed his rapt attention on her. As she drew closer, I could see that her hair was a rich mahogany red, and not a single freckle marred her nose or cheeks. Her eyes were such a strange, bright green that I could see the color of her irises from where I stood.

  “Welcome to Antion, Lady Vera.” Damian decided to stand after all when Lady Vera came to a graceful stop near Felton and Deron.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She sank into a curtsy that made her skirt pool out around her and showed off her impressive cleavage — and the large ruby pendant that rested right above the deep V of her dress’s neckline.

  My heart thudded beneath my ribs. I glanced at Damian, hoping he wasn’t so blinded by her beauty that he was forgetting to sense if she was a sorceress. I still didn’t even know for sure how it worked — did he have to focus to find out? Or was it something he just felt, that he knew, even without trying? Or had Eljin been able to get close enough to know already? Neither of them seemed concerned as King Damian inclined his head to her and gestured for her to stand. But I was far from reassured as she rose and smiled again, more boldly this time. King Armando was the one who had sent Iker to his brother. Why send Lady Vera now? What was he playing at?

  “Do you bring word from my uncle?” Damian asked as he took his seat once again. I relaxed infinitesimally when he did. I’d been half afraid he was going to walk down and propose marriage to her right then and there. All the other guards were staring at her openly, some with
their mouths literally gaping. I fought to suppress my irritation — and embarrassment. They were trained better than to be so easily disarmed by a pretty face. I stood up even taller, my hand tight on my sword handle. Just in case.

  “I do. But I am tired from my journey. Would you mind very much if I requested a bath in my room to refresh myself before we converse at length? I do hope that Felton was able to give you enough notice of our coming for you to have rooms prepared.” She said the words with a smile, but there was steel behind her voice. She wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

  I didn’t think she deserved a bath and time to prepare for anything — even if she really did just bring word from the king and not a threat. We needed to know what the message was now. We needed to know why she was here.

  “Of course,” Damian said. “Take all the time you need.” He made a signal to the sentries at the door nearest to him.

  I had to clench my teeth to keep the shock from registering on my face. What was wrong with everyone? Damian, of all people, should know better than to trust someone from Dansii so blindly — even if that person was seemingly nothing more than a harmless, beautiful woman.

  “Sire, if I may —” I tried to protest, but Damian lifted a hand to silence me. Lady Vera’s gaze turned to me for the first time and the look she gave me turned my blood to ice in my veins. The smile never left her face, but when her eyes met mine and then moved slightly to the left — to my scars — the smugness I saw there made my stomach fill with acid.

  I refused to look away, glaring down at her coldly until she finally gave up and turned back to Damian. She might have woven some sort of spell around all the men, but I wasn’t taken in. And I wasn’t going to let her get within ten feet of Damian ever again — strictly because I was concerned about his safety, of course. It had nothing to do with the way he was still staring down at her when I glanced at him, his expression speculative. And appreciative.