Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  There was a splash of water, the man falling in, as Niya landed in the belly of the boat. Rolling to her feet, she breathed hard as she found her balance, concentrating on the rest of the surrounding waves of movement. The dirty sack covering her head was insufferable!

  A ripple of energy from a hand reaching for her caused Niya to spin around before slamming her shoulder into the culprit’s side. A yip of surprise followed by another splash. Niya backed up, tripping on items by her feet, before steadying once more in the swaying boat. Her arms groaned at remaining bound behind her, the sun streaming in dizzyingly through the small holes in her head covering. Sensing another presence pushing up from in front—Niya kicked out.

  But this time, strong hands grabbed her ankle, blocking.

  “You’ll be paying for that, girl,” hissed the woman whose nose she had smashed. She twisted Niya’s leg, sending her spinning.

  Niya was suspended in air for what felt like a full sand fall before the slap of cold water enveloped her.

  Her mind screamed in disorientation as the sting of salt water filled her nostrils and throat. She thrashed in panic, her eyes blinking open, but the sack was still over her head, not allowing her to see which way was up.

  Tucking in her legs as tightly as she could, she managed to slip her hands in front, her shoulder sockets burning.

  By the Obasi Sea, let me live through this.

  Just then, there was a strong tug to her dress’s bodice, part of the material ripping as she was hauled backward. Four pairs of hands dragged her over the side of the boat, the hard wooden edge digging and scratching into her hip.

  Niya coughed and wheezed against the material of the bag, drenched and stuck over her face.

  “Take this blasted thing off me!” She wriggled and fought against the unforgiving grip of her captors.

  “A spicy one, she is,” grunted a man as they held her down.

  Niya’s energy felt frayed, a damp mess spread too thin at the commotion. She desperately tried to rein it in, pull in the pieces that groped for clarity. At least enough to cast some sort of spell. Anything to blast these bastards off her. But there were limbs and hands and weight pinning her from every angle. “I will kill you all!” she screamed before a rough hand slammed over her mouth.

  She bit it, hard, through the sack, and her teeth punctured skin.

  A howl of pain before another hand smacked her skull against the bottom of the boat.

  Her vision blurred.

  Grunts of her attackers holding her down filled her ears as Niya desperately took in a lungful of air.

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

  The cloth over her head stuck wet against her lips with each panicked breath.

  Don’t let them suffocate me! she screamed imperiously to her gifts. Her magic responded like an eruption, for though Niya could not move, those around her could, and her powers greedily pulled in the energy they gave off, sucking in every drop to then burst from her palms.

  “What the—”

  “She’s on fire!”

  The thieves sprang back, their grasps loosening.

  “Quick!” screamed another. “Put this bitch down!”

  Niya’s binds snapped as the flames ate through the rope, her arms free.

  “You’re all dead!” she roared, reaching for the cinched cloth covering her face. She felt weak, exhausted by the extreme use of her magic, but her fury kept her moving.

  She barely caught a sliver of a sunset sky before a large blanket was thrown on top of her. Weighted hands pressed the sticky, wet material against her, and there was a sizzling of steam as her fire was doused. Niya sucked in air, readying to scream her frustration, but then all too quickly something sweet burned her nostrils on the inhale.

  By the lost gods, not again!

  The cloying flavor of gaffaw bark was everywhere.

  And then it was nowhere as Niya collapsed once again into black.

  With a gasp, Niya sat up and then groaned. Her head felt split open. She was free of her binds and blindfold, but her body ached as if it were one giant bruise, and though her clothes were now dry, they felt clingy against her skin. She lay on a soft brown animal hide, and a lantern flickered on top of a wooden crate in front of her, sending warm shadows through the small compartment.

  Moving gingerly, Niya took in wood-slatted walls; a single door to her right, no doubt locked; and no windows to be seen. The air felt stuffy but had a rather pleasant aroma, like a perfumed hothouse in Jabari.

  By the stars and sea, please let me still be close to Jabari.

  This day, if it was even still the same day, had returned to being horrible.

  Niya needed to get up and look around, find a way out, but she was exhausted. Thirsty and yet, unfairly, needed to relieve herself. Her escape could wait a few grain falls.

  Rubbing her wrists, the skin raw and angry where the rope had dug in, she took in the state of herself. Her fine green day dress was stained and torn, and she lifted her right foot, wiggling her exposed toes. Just great. She was missing a slipper. And they were her favorite pair. Niya pushed away a clump of her red hair, which lay loose and matted down her back. She was an absolute mess. And this, more than being attacked, drugged, and dragged to the lost gods knew where, really upset her.

  She was never a mess.

  “I fear my crew was rather rough in bringing you here.” A deep voice floated from behind her. “But what do you expect when you put up such a fight in coming?”

  Niya’s skin ran as hot as the lantern flame before her, her heart kicking into a faster rhythm.

  No, she thought. Please, nonononono.

  Glancing over her shoulder, her entire body a tense coil, Niya found glowing turquoise eyes peering out of a black-shrouded form. His face was all sharp angles in the dim light: brown skin, full lips, and inky hair that was tied back at the base of his neck. It was a face that could tempt many and had, much to their deep regret, and one he never covered up when entering the Thief Kingdom. Not all had the courage for such open bravado. Even the Mousai, some of the most feared creatures in the kingdom, made sure to be masked, for their true hair color never to escape a headdress, for the shade of their skin to be hidden. No one but their closest brethren were allowed to know of their more respectable lives in Jabari. And even those trusted few were bound silent by a spell, on pain of losing their tongues in consequence.

  This man, however, wanted his face known, wanted to be remembered for his sins. He had told her so, years ago, which should have been her first warning.

  But Niya was never good with warnings.

  Alōs Ezra, the infamous pirate lord, sat tucked into a corner, his shoulders so wide they hid his chair’s back. Niya forced her attention away from the deep V of his tunic, which displayed his strong, smooth chest. Her mind was a cruel beast as it brought forth memories of her fingers grazing that very skin. Quickly, she blinked the visions away, jaw clenching.

  In contrast to her stiffness, the pirate was an image of repose, his hands casually interlocked over his stomach, a jeweled pinkie ring sparkling in the lantern’s light. Niya’s gaze roamed all the way down to his crossed ankles, covered in sea-weathered boots, and that was where her attention remained—on the soles of his shoes.

  For it was the only type of soul this man had.

  Alōs was no friend of hers or anyone’s.

  Her magic wrestled against her skin to be freed, to do what it always wanted to do when this man was near. Buuuuuuurrrrn, it screamed. Kiiiiiiiiiiiill.

  The history that hung between them was the one secret Niya had kept from her family. It was her burden, the one she had been carrying for the past four years.

  “There’s a heavy purse attached to your whereabouts,” said Niya, ignoring the demands of her gifts along with the protesting groan of her sore legs as she stood, ensuring her back was no longer to him. The pirate’s relaxed stance didn’t fool her. The most lethal of snakes often played dead.

  “I woul
d hope so.” Alōs leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m a priceless commodity.”

  “One that wishes their death, it would seem. There were rumors of your crew docking in Jabari. But I couldn’t believe the Crying Queen would be so sloppy after hiding like cowards for all these months.”

  “Cowards run,” clarified Alōs. “Others hide so they can plan.”

  Niya laughed, cold and hard. “No amount of planning will save your neck, pirate. What the Thief King wants, the Thief King gets, and he seeks to make a trophy out of your head.”

  “I’m afraid it would not keep well, detached from my body.”

  “All the more reason to cut it off. I’m sure I am not the only one who would enjoy watching your looks wither and decay.”

  “Are you calling me handsome?”

  “I’m calling you a fool. I knew you to be smug, but not naive. No one is above the law in the Thief Kingdom. What were you thinking, stealing phorria from it?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I would think that was concern in your voice.”

  Niya ground her teeth as the pirate’s ice-shard energy enveloped her, his strong magic, tinged green, curling from his body with his smile.

  “What?” Alōs cocked a brow. “No snarky reply? How you disappoint me.”

  “Not a first, I imagine.”

  “Nor a last, I can bet.”

  “What am I doing here?”

  “I have kidnapped you.”

  Niya scoffed. “Have you now?”

  “Would you like me to tie you back up so it appears more authentic?” His eyes shone, predatory.

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Just as I adore seeing you struggle.”

  Niya narrowed her gaze, one hand sliding to her back, to her knives, but her fingers grasped air.

  “No proper kidnapper would let you keep those,” explained Alōs.

  “You’d be smart in returning them.”

  “I’d argue that would make me rather stupid.”

  “Stupider,” clarified Niya.

  Alōs grinned. “I’ve missed your spark.”

  “You know nothing of my sparks.”

  “Oh, but we both know that I do. Just as I knew where to tell my crew to watch for a curvy redhead in Jabari. I must say, the Bassettes’ estate is quite lovely.”

  Niya’s vision dripped crimson as her blood boiled. Guilt and outrage mixed potently with her magic. It was one thing to threaten her but another entirely to threaten her family.

  While Niya might not have had her knives, she had other tools that could do far worse damage.

  Yes, her magic crooned, satisfied. Let us free.

  When she fluttered her fingers at her sides, flames erupted on each of her fingertips. There was no point concealing her gifts from this man.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted. “We’re on a ship. With cannon powder. You set fire freely ablaze in here, and the whole place will go up.”

  “So?”

  “So I know you’re strong, pet, but how long can you tread water in the middle of the rough sea? That is, if you survive the blast—and the sharks.”

  “I’ll be sure to save enough wood so I can float.” She pushed her flames to burn brighter.

  Alōs sat back, seeming not at all concerned by her threat.

  “I’ll ask one last time, Alōs: Why am I here?”

  “We both know why.”

  “Remind me, then.”

  A beat of silence as his stare bored into hers. The flames along her fingers fluttered their anticipation. Burn, her powers whispered, burn, as the room grew suffocating with Alōs’s unwavering attention. His energy always seemed to churn, pulse, reach, a weed looking for more ground.

  “All right,” he began. “Masked or not, we both know I’ll always recognize you, Niya Bassette.” His eyes roamed her disheveled body. “Sister to Larkyra and Arabessa Bassette, daughter of Johanna and Dolion Bassette, Count of Raveet, of the second house of Jabari . . .” Niya’s blood ran cold and colder still as Alōs flicked out icy-green threads of his magic, ticking off each name and smothering her flames with a hiss, until he stopped on the most important one. “Dancer of the Mousai.”

  Niya watched a smile twist its way across Alōs’s lips. This was the nightmare she had dreaded since that cursed night so very long ago, when she’d been nothing more than a foolish young girl tricked into believing something stupid—that she had found love. Here sat the one person in all of Aadilor who knew every one of her identities and wasn’t spellbound to keep them secret.

  “And as I promised that night,” continued Alōs, his voice chilling the air, “I’ve come to collect.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alōs had always found pleasure in watching a fearsome creature become cornered, especially if he was the one forcing them back.

  He had worked hard to obtain this winning card and had waited patiently to play it. Leverage was the most valuable currency in their world, and he’d known the moment he’d first seen the fire dancer perform that acquiring the identities of the most-feared creatures in the Thief Kingdom was not something to trade in without an invaluable return on investment.

  It had been a risky endeavor, sacrificing a part of himself he knew he could never regain. But what things worth having were easily caught? Four years Alōs had held on to this information, watching Niya squirm in rage, knowing he held her fate in his hands. But now was the time. He needed something, badly. And luckily for this woman, she happened to have the key that would free him to get it. Removing the bounty on his head was merely the necessary first step.

  “You bastard,” spat Niya, shoving the blazing heat from her palms.

  Alōs pulled up his own magic, which sat like dewdrops on his skin, forcing up a shield. His veins buzzed as if ice swam within. Their gifts slammed together, his cool, hers hot. The two powers sizzled, water and fire creating steam, canceling each other out.

  A heavy silence hung over the room, the wetness in the air still lingering, and he pulled what liquid he could grasp into his veins once more.

  He watched as Niya began to lightly sway her hips.

  Oh, no you don’t, he thought.

  Alōs knew this woman, had studied her kind of magic, and understood that, while she was strong, only movement held her power. Just as proximity to water held his.

  Swiftly, he stood, kicking a sandbag that rested on a box beside him. It thudded to the ground, and the fur rug directly below Niya snapped up, capturing her like a fish in a net and cutting off the beginnings of her spell. He would have truly been stupid if he hadn’t ordered this room rigged before placing her inside. The hunter’s trap now hung from a rafter’s beam, the perfect snare for Niya and all her graceful movements.

  She thrashed and screamed, the tightly cinched bag swaying.

  “There’ll be no more of that,” said Alōs, circling her.

  “I’m going to kill you,” came Niya’s muffled growl.

  “You have every right to try.” He poked the bag. “But I wouldn’t.”

  She let out another snarl, the trap still wriggling.

  Alōs grinned.

  “Whatever you have planned,” Niya ground out, “it won’t work.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because even if I don’t get the chance to kill you, my sisters will.”

  “It’s quite humorous hearing threats from you when you’re tied up so nicely.”

  The smell of something burning floated past Alōs’s nose, and he glanced up; the rope cinching the bag closed was on fire. Clever girl, he thought.

  The tie snapped and the rug fell open, depositing Niya with a thunk. She rolled out of the fur and sprang to her feet, a small flame flickering on her pointer finger.

  “I only need a little to do a lot.” She smiled and launched herself forward.

  Alōs spun away, but the room was so small it merely put him in striking distance on the other side. In a blur of motion, she kicked him in the stomach, and
he staggered with a grunt. She continued to move dizzyingly as the tiny cabin began to heat with her gathering magic.

  An orange blast shot out of her core. Alōs threw up his hands, forcing out his gifts through his palms, a cool current of green that deflected her hit.

  She twirled left, away from the ricocheting spell. It crashed into the far wall, singeing its surface.

  Annoyance bloomed in Alōs’s chest at seeing his ship harmed. His focus sharpened.

  While Niya might have been one step faster, his advantage lay in his size combined with the confined space. It was only a matter of crowding his prey.

  She knocked against stacked crates as she dipped and wove from his attempts to grab her, but despite her evasion, he kept sliding forward, knocking away spell after spell, forcing her into a corner. Within a grain’s fall, he had her against a wall, forcing her arms by her sides, her legs tightly pinned between his thighs.

  “You shan’t be placing any spells on me this night,” he growled in her ear, breathing in the familiar scent of honeysuckle after a rain through her salty sweat.

  “We both know I can do many things to remove myself from your grip.” Her blue eyes blazed as they met his.

  “Yes, but because I value my ship, I’d prefer it not to come to that.”

  “Something you should have thought about before kidnapping me and bringing me aboard.”

  “Valid point, but still. Can we stop all this nonsense? Really, fire dancer, how much longer will you try to kill me?”

  “Forever,” spat Niya, struggling against his hold once more.

  He pressed harder into her, holding her as tightly against the wall as he could until she gasped for air. “It would be a fool’s errand,” he began. “For if I am found dead on this ship by your hand, there are those around Aadilor that will be sent instructions of where to find what I hold in my mind.”

  Niya went still.

  “You are finally starting to understand?”

  “Let me go.” Her quick breaths were hot against his neck.

  “You will behave?”

  “For now.”

  It was as much as he could hope from her.

  He released his grip, and Niya quickly withdrew to the other side of the room.