Prince's Fire

by Amy Raby

  She cooperated, not from a desire for him to see the rest of her body, but because she wanted him inside her, and that wasn’t going to happen with her dress on. In a moment, she was completely naked, and he was looking on her with frank admiration.

  He ran a hand down the curves of her body. “Surely you can find no fault here.”

  “I’m shaped wrong,” she said. “I’m wider in the hips than in the chest.”

  “That’s a fault?”

  She wasn’t certain anymore. “Isn’t it?”

  “Every woman has her own shape,” said Rayn. “Yours is beautiful.”

  “Look, there’s a scar here on my thigh.”

  He studied it. “How’d you get that?”

  “Fell off a horse when I was a girl.”

  Rayn smiled. “Evidence of a life well lived. I’ll bet you never even noticed my scars. You’ll have more of them before your life is done, and if you deign to marry me, I’ll love each and every one of them. Tell me, did Cassian convince you that these entirely normal features of your body made you ugly?”

  She looked away. “Sort of.”

  “Tell me,” said Rayn.

  “He had a wife,” said Celeste. “Not officially—he had to divorce her in order to marry me. But they remained lovers. She was jealous of me.”

  “The wife is the one who said these things?”

  “No. Well, a little bit. Mostly it was Cassian, to reassure her that he wanted her and not me. They would strip me naked and tell me everything that was wrong with me. Then they’d leave and go to the bedroom to make love.”

  A line appeared in the middle of Rayn’s forehead. “But you didn’t want him to make love to you. Right?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I’m glad he didn’t sleep with me. I’m glad he found me ugly. And yet it still hurt, knowing I was not desired. He said I would never be desired by anyone.”

  “He lied,” said Rayn.

  A fat tear tracked its way down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “I shouldn’t be so upset. It’s stupid. Obviously I didn’t want him to rape me, so why does it bother me that he didn’t want to? I hate him for making me feel so mixed up. I hate him.”

  “That’s right, karamasi,” said Rayn. “Hate him, because that’s what he deserves. He is dead, and I am here. Let his words drift into obscurity, unremembered. You are beautiful and very much desired.” He stripped off what remained of his tunic and pants. “Look at me. Do you see how much I desire you?” He was thick and erect.

  “I do.”

  Rayn rose from the bed stark naked and went to the curtains. He pulled them back from the balcony, letting the sun’s waning light filter into the room. She envied him for feeling so at home in his own skin.

  Gentle sunlight fell upon her body, while a cool breeze caressed her skin.

  “The light only enhances your beauty,” said Rayn as he returned to the bed. “Don’t be afraid to let it shine on you.”

  He entered her—as promised, slowly, letting her feel every inch of his length. He kissed her, feasting upon her mouth. He sucked one breast and then the other while tracing circles on her skin with his fire touch. And he moved inside her, filling her, making it clear just whom she belonged to.

  When his gentle movements were no longer enough, and she gasped with need, he sped his pace. He was so big. His muscles flexed with exertion; his body glistened with sweat.

  “Oh, karamasi,” he groaned.

  Her body spilled over into wave after wave of burning climax. She gripped him as her body clenched, and closed her eyes in ecstasy. He moved against her in an ever-increasing rhythm. Then he groaned again. His body went rigid and his hands held her in a grip of iron.

  As she quaked with the aftershocks, he lay beside her and gathered her into his arms. The light of the setting sun spilled over the two of them, and for the first time in her life Celeste welcomed its illumination.

  30

  The next day, Rayn gathered the Fireturners, and they went as a group to the public square in the middle of Tiasa. There Rayn addressed a crowd of gathered civilians and told the tale of the weeklong battle against the lava flow on Mount Drav. He explained the history of Mount Drav eruptions and how lava flows had always been directed into Four Pines. He described the size and boiling heat of the lava flow, since few Tiasans had seen one up close. He explained how the Fireturners had opposed the Land Council’s decision to open Four Pines for farming and warned them that the next major eruption could destroy those farms. And how he’d evacuated the Four Pines settlers despite having been denied permission to do so by the Land Council.

  Then his Fireturners took the stage, one by one, to add their experiences to the tale and confirm the validity of Rayn’s words.

  It was hard to gauge the mood of the crowd, but Rayn felt he’d made his points clear. It was up to the people of Inya to judge who was to blame for the destruction in Four Pines. He hoped they would reflect, additionally, on the role of the Land Council in the debacle.

  After his public appearance, he collected the Kjallan imperials, who’d watched the speech from the plaza, and escorted them to the Merchants’ Guild. There Celeste and Vitala mingled among the Inyan distributors and shopkeepers, assuring them in accented but serviceable Inyan that they were highly interested in opening trade with Inya. A few tradesmen inquired about the brimstone issue—would they consider a trade agreement that didn’t include brimstone? Celeste and Vitala were noncommittal in response to that query, saying only that they were certain something could be worked out to everyone’s satisfaction.

  They returned to the Tiasan Palace for lunch. On their way, Rayn spotted a new set of handbills. Lornis had been busy in their absence.

  WHO IS TO BLAME FOR FOUR PINES?

  LAVA FLOWS HAVE BEEN SENT TO FOUR PINES FOR CENTURIES

  THE LAND COUNCIL AUTHORIZED SETTLEMENT OF FOUR PINES

  BUT DENIED AUTHORIZATION TO EVACUATE WHEN THE LAVA CAME

  PRINCE RAYN DEFIED THAT ORDER TO KEEP INYA SAFE

  RATIFY PRINCE RAYN

  “I like it,” said Celeste.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without Lornis,” said Rayn.

  Lornis joined them for lunch. Everyone complimented him on his handbills, and the conversation turned to the trade agreement.

  “You told the merchants that Kjall is interested in trade,” began Rayn, addressing Vitala. “But Emperor Lucien isn’t here. Can we hammer out an agreement without him?”

  “We cannot sign it without him,” said Vitala. “By law, Lucien’s authority exceeds mine. In practice, the two of us rule by consensus. But there can be no consensus without him.”

  “You believe he’s on the way here?”

  “There is no doubt in my mind,” said Vitala. “The only question is how long it will take. We stole his ship, so he has to procure another one.”

  Rayn had seen several suitable ships in the Riorcan harbor. He doubted it would take Lucien long to seize one of them. “How angry is he going to be?”

  “Very,” said Vitala. “But not at you.”

  Rayn frowned. “He won’t harm Celeste, will he?”

  “Not physically,” said Vitala. “Nor would he harm me, not even if he wished to.”

  It sounded like Celeste was in no danger of being beaten. But Lucien could hurt her in other ways. Confine her, send her home to Kjall. Burn her math treatise.

  Could Rayn protect Celeste from Lucien’s anger by marrying her before he arrived? No—that might make matters worse. Stealing her brother’s ship was bad enough; eloping would compound the crime. Besides, he didn’t want to propose marriage until the people of Inya ratified him as king. Celeste deserved better than the political exile he would become if he failed his ratification vote.

  “While I can’t authorize a trade
agreement without Lucien,” said Vitala, “we can still negotiate one. Don’t you think it would cheer Lucien considerably if he arrived on the island to find a mutually beneficial trade agreement prepared and awaiting his signature?”

  “There’s an idea,” said Lornis.

  “I don’t think it would be hard to work one out except for the one problem,” said Rayn.

  Vitala smiled wryly. “Brimstone.”

  “I’ve explained to you my objections,” said Rayn. “Would Lucien sign a treaty that excludes brimstone?”

  “No,” said Vitala. “We need it. We’re Sardos’s nearest neighbor, and you know as well as I do that the country isn’t stable.”

  Rayn nodded. All indications were that Sardos was on the verge of a coup. For thirty years, the First Heir of Sardos had kept his nation quiet and peaceful. But some of the Heir’s detractors openly expressed their desire to recapture territories they’d lost to Kjall ages ago. If the Heir were assassinated, there was no telling who would rise to power in his place, and what policies that person might advocate. Inya was fortunate in that Kjall sat between them and Sardos, acting as a buffer from possible Sardossian aggression. If Inya’s brimstone, converted to gunpowder, served the purpose of keeping Sardos contained, that would benefit Inya.

  The problem was that there was no way to guarantee that Kjall would use the gunpowder for the purpose of containing Sardos. To make this deal, he had to trust—something he was leery of doing when it came to ambitious nations with a history of invading their neighbors.

  “We must have it one way or another,” said Vitala. “If you will not supply us, we will get it from Dori.”

  “You’ll never get a consistent supply, not until they rebuild their nation.”

  “We will do what must be done to ensure the safety of Kjall,” said Vitala.

  Rayn considered the implications of her words. Kjall was quite capable of invading Dori. Would they do so, if that was the only way they could secure a supply of a resource they deemed essential to their national security?

  “Would you feel better,” inquired Celeste, “if Kjall traded you weapons in return?”

  “Are you suggesting we need them?” said Rayn.

  “I have no idea,” said Celeste. “I was just thinking that would equalize the trade. Arms for arms.”

  Celeste’s offer was well intended, but it rubbed him the wrong way. His country was sufficiently armed. He saw no need to stockpile weapons. No, this came down to thinking not just about Inya but about the world as a whole. It would be better for Inya if Kjall stood firm against an uncertain Sardos. It would be better for Inya if Kjall didn’t invade an already unstable Dori. He just had to trust the Kjallans. That was the hard part, but less so than when he’d first met them. He knew the Kjallans now, had dealt with them and relied on them in matters of importance. And there was one particular Kjallan whom he trusted completely.

  “If you want brimstone, there’s only one thing I’ll accept in trade for it,” said Rayn. “The hand of the Imperial Princess.”

  Vitala blinked. “Isn’t that what we offered in the first place?”

  “At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate the merits of the offer.” He caught Celeste’s eye and smiled.

  “Celeste, what say you?” asked Vitala.

  “I am one hundred percent in favor,” said Celeste.

  “We’ve no quarrel, then,” said Vitala. “Not among the people sitting at this table.”

  “Let’s draft the agreement,” said Rayn. “We’ll make it contingent on my winning ratification.” What was a king for except to make judgments in uncertain situations? There were no easy answers here, no guarantee that he’d chosen correctly in throwing his lot in with the Kjallans. But his gut told him that these were the people who would help him keep his archipelago safe.

  “Of course it will be contingent on your winning ratification,” said Vitala. “If you don’t win, you won’t have the authority to make the agreement. So Lornis and I will handle the drafting, and you work on winning your ratification vote. We’ll present the agreement to Lucien when he arrives: everything’s done, all he needs to do is sign the paperwork. Trade agreement and marriage alliance—and we pray he accepts them without a fuss.”

  “And I’ll present the agreement to the Inyan people,” said Rayn. “It gives them more reason to ratify me.”

  “Clasp wrists on it?” said Vitala.

  Rayn reached across the table and sealed the deal.

  • • •

  That evening, Rayn took Celeste back to his bedroom and made love to her, slowly and gently. He laid her on the bed and worshipped her with his hands and mouth, telling her all the while how beautiful each part of her was. She was tense at first, but relaxed under his ministrations. It was going to take a while to banish the memory of Cassian’s lies. He might have to remind her every single day that she was beautiful. It was a job he willingly embraced.

  Now it was morning, and he was taking his coffee with her in his room, too greedy to share her with the others yet. Another busy day lay before him. He had a speech to give and meetings to attend. This was the calm before the storm, the last quiet moment he would have with Celeste until evening. Only two days left before his ratification vote.

  Someone knocked at his door. There went his quiet moment.

  “Come,” he called.

  Lornis entered. His hair was mussed and his clothes rumpled.

  “Are you all right?” asked Rayn.

  “Your Highness, I need to speak with you privately.”

  Celeste, who was wrapped in a gauzy silk robe, set down her spoon and rose from her chair. “I’ll go. I need to get dressed.”

  Rayn looked at her half-eaten breakfast and held out his hand to stay her. “If something’s happened, tell both of us. Has Emperor Lucien arrived?”

  Lornis shook his head.

  Something was wrong. Normally Lornis’s stiff posture suited the man; it looked natural on him. But now he looked wrong all over, like a marionette with twisted strings. Rayn grabbed an empty chair and pulled it to the table. “Have a seat, man. Whatever the problem is, we can fix it.”

  When Lornis hesitated, Rayn took his arm and led him to the chair. He pressed lightly on his shoulder, and Lornis sank reluctantly into it.

  Lornis placed a folded piece of paper on the table and shoved it toward Rayn. “I’m tendering my resignation.”

  “What?” Rayn snatched the paper from the table and read. It was indeed a resignation letter, with Lornis’s signature at the bottom. “This is ridiculous. I do not accept.”

  Lornis swallowed. “I cannot fulfill my duties as your adviser any longer, Your Highness. I am leaving whether you accept it or not.”

  “But why?” said Celeste.

  Rayn rose from his chair. “Lornis, my ratification vote is the day after tomorrow.” He couldn’t believe this. Twelve years of service, and Lornis was abandoning him on the eve of the most important day of his life? He stared with foul hatred at the resignation letter, and then snatched it from the table and tore it in half. “What inspires this treachery?”

  Lornis flinched.

  “There’s got to be a sensible explanation,” said Celeste. She turned to Lornis. “Why do you feel the need to resign?”

  “My reasons are my own. Your Highness, Your Imperial Highness: I wish you success and happiness.” He turned to go.

  “You can’t just walk away.” Rayn grabbed him by the arm and yanked him around. “Who got to you? Was it Worryn? Zoe?”

  “Nobody has threatened me,” said Lornis.

  “You can’t tell me nothing happened to provoke this,” said Rayn.

  Lornis’s gaze went to Rayn’s hand on his sleeve. “Let go of me.”

  “Not until I get some answers.”

  Lornis yanked his sleeve out of Rayn’s grip and wal
ked away.

  Rayn followed him. “Something happened. At least give me the courtesy of letting me know what I’ve done to lose your service. You don’t want to say it in front of Celeste? I’ll grant you the privacy you asked for.”

  Lornis paused. “Sir, you are the finest man I’ve had the pleasure of advising, and it is my deepest desire that you be ratified as Inya’s next king. There is nothing more I have to say on the matter.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense,” said Rayn.

  “It will,” said Lornis. “Good-bye, Your Highness.”

  As Lornis walked away, Rayn was tempted to grab him again, to haul him bodily back to the room and reinstate him whether he liked it or not. But respect stayed his hand. As a magister, Lornis could make a good living any number of ways. He chose to be an adviser because he believed in Rayn. Rayn could not force him to do the work he did.

  “What did I do?” Rayn called desperately.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  31

  Celeste headed to her own room to dress, turning over in her mind the mystery of Magister Lornis. There had to be a reason for his resignation. That left her and Rayn with a dilemma of pragmatics. Should they investigate Lornis’s reasons for resigning, or keep the appointments Lornis himself had arranged for them? Celeste was of the opinion that they should keep the appointments. Ratification was in two days; any missed opportunities could not be made up. But Rayn was going to be distracted now that he’d lost his adviser.

  She put on the prettiest dress she could find, knowing she would be onstage with Rayn for his speech, and headed back to Rayn’s rooms.

  She found him still in his bedclothes, drinking uske from the bottle.

  She took the bottle from him. “What are you doing? You’ve got a speech this morning, and more going on besides.”

  He regarded her through hazy eyes. “I can’t do this alone.”

  “You’re not alone,” she said. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Empress Vitala. You’ve got the Fireturners and the whole Inyan population—”