Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  By the stars and sea, he thought, I must be mad for attempting this. But it was the quickest way he knew how to hide in plain sight. “Don’t hurt me,” he warned, crowding Niya until her back hit up against the wall.

  The flames beside them reflected in her startled eyes.

  “Hurt you? Why would—?”

  “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

  Her eyes snapped wide, palms pressing against his chest. “You most certainly w—”

  “We have to,” he quickly urged, hearing their guests getting closer and closer. “Lovers are never considered threats, while roaming pirates—”

  “Lovers? You’ve lost your—oy! Don’t touch me there!” she hissed, knocking away the hand angling for her waist.

  “I have to.” He placed his slapped hand on the wall beside her head instead, his large form enveloping her further. “As you said, you cannot currently spell them without them learning of it later, and we cannot fight, for that will surely raise alarms. So unless you can think of another way to get out of why two pirates are in these very off-limits quarters of the young princess—”

  “You there!” a voice called toward them as Niya’s eyes held his. Time stilled as he watched a barrage of thoughts and feelings tumble through their blue depths.

  But Alōs had not gotten this far, gone through so much, to be caught. He would not be stopped this night. Niya had to understand this. Her own fate hung in the balance as well.

  “Please,” he whispered. His last attempt.

  “Halt! You are not meant—”

  But the rest of the guard’s words were lost as Niya pulled Alōs down to her lips.

  They were soft and full, just as he remembered, yet her body was seized in tension, her grip hard on his arms, nails digging into his skin. Alōs held steady. They were two roaring waves fighting for dominance. But this time, Alōs no longer wanted to fight.

  She must have noticed, sensed his submission, for her hands loosened and her mouth parted, sending a delicious tongue to sweep across his own.

  A wave of pleasure flowed through him as he took the invitation, just as he had those four years ago. He wrapped his hands around her small waist, pulled her supple form deeper into his hard chest, and devoured her.

  And though this was a kiss of farce, nothing in the way his body responded to her was pretend. Alōs only hoped, as he claimed her lips, magic purring, Niya wouldn’t notice.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  It was Niya’s nightmare all over again. Because it was exactly like her dreams.

  Alōs’s ministrations were exquisite, his lips full and skilled. His hands were steady, strong, as he held her against the wall. He tasted like rich wine and experience.

  Goose bumps were dusted across Niya’s skin.

  A betrayal.

  In the back of her mind she knew everything about this was wrong, horrible, that she should shove her knee swiftly into his groin. But they were trapped with guards nearing.

  Please.

  The one word that had done her in. The plea that had shredded through her resolve. His need for her, and not just physically. No, it was him knowing that she held his future in the balance, and it sent an intoxicating wave of power through her.

  Please, I am at your mercy.

  And what separated her from him was that she was strong enough to give it.

  Niya had leaned into what was already happening, a sick part of her reveling in it, wanting it. She’d melted her tightly spun energy, letting it pool beneath her feet, and tugged Alōs into a kiss.

  A deep rumble of approval came from him as he pinned her harder to the cool wall. He was pure muscle and soft caresses. The heady scent of sea and midnight orchids filled her nostrils as she inhaled, and suddenly she was four years younger, alone with him in the privacy of her Thief Kingdom dressing room.

  Niya was seated in front of her looking glass, tucking a piece of escaped hair into her headdress. She was adorned in a gold silk costume, preparing to leave for one of the many soirees happening in the palace that night, when she felt his cool energy, a chilled kiss beneath her covered neck.

  In the reflection of her mirror, Niya watched a painting at the far end of her chambers edge forward and a tall, imposing man step out.

  “You’re not meant to be in here,” said Niya, watching his dark form prowl close.

  Alōs remained quiet as he came to stand behind her, his glowing turquoise eyes drinking in her costumed form.

  Niya’s body filled with a cool wind of anticipation.

  Alōs was so beautiful. So consuming. So commanding. So untouchable.

  All at court wanted to be near him. And she knew many had invited him to their beds.

  But night after night the pirate lord had sneaked into her chambers, not theirs.

  Niya’s vanity glowed at the thought, preened at the temptation to give in to his loyalty to her and finally allow his skin to brush against hers, uncovered, bare, exposed.

  “Were you hoping to catch me without my costume on?” teased Niya.

  Alōs’s grin sparked in the candlelight. “I’m always hoping to catch you, fire dancer.”

  They were an arresting sight, reflected in her mirror. Niya, in her shining gold-studded headdress and mask, her crown of pearls. Alōs, in his devastating beauty wrapped in darkness, brown skin smooth in the glow of her candelabras.

  He leaned down, warm breath playing over her thinly veiled ear. “Do you think tonight will be the night when ice can finally play with fire?” he mused.

  “Oy! Lovebirds!” A shout cut through Niya’s memory, heat and haze dissipating. “You cannot be here.”

  Alōs released his hold on Niya, his soft mouth leaving hers in a cooling whoosh, as he glanced to their intruders.

  “Excuse me?” asked Alōs, his voice calm, not at all matching the pounding beat Niya felt in her chest. She placed a steadying hand against the wall as the gazes of the guard and two servants roamed over where she and Alōs were still partially embraced.

  “You need to leave,” said the guard, eyes narrowed. “This wing is for the royal family and those who serve the—” The man cut himself off, eyes widening in recognition as he took in Alōs fully. “Sir.” The man bowed quickly. “Forgive me. I did not recognize you, but I’m afraid you are still not allowed in this part of the palace.”

  “Oh?” Alōs straightened, bringing Niya with him as he curled an arm around her. She blinked, shaking off her momentary fluster to play along. She draped herself against Alōs’s side. “I do apologize,” he said. “I don’t even know where exactly we are.”

  “This is Princess Callista’s private wing,” explained the guard. “No unaccompanied guests are allowed here.”

  “Of course, of course.” Alōs nodded. “We weren’t paying attention to where we were walking. I was merely looking for a quiet place to . . . well, you saw.” He gave the guard a conspiratorial grin.

  One of the servants chuckled before swallowing the sound after a stern scowl from the soldier.

  “Of course, Lord Ezra,” he said.

  “They could try the library,” the other servant suggested.

  “Barneth,” admonished the guard.

  “What?” Barneth shrugged. “We all know it’s always empty, and it’s not only guests who have been known to frequent its . . . seclusion.”

  “It sounds perfect,” said Alōs. “Where can we find this library?”

  The guard still appeared unsure, as if it was against his duties to show where one might be able to snog another.

  “I beg of you,” said Alōs. “It would be a tragedy to have my night with this one end so early.”

  Niya dug her nails into Alōs’s back as his hand lowered to her hip.

  Alōs merely grinned wider.

  The guard assessed Niya, his gaze lingering on her more ample parts.

  Look longer and we’ll see how well you’ll see tomorrow, she thought.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” the man said slowly
, “but you mustn’t disrupt any books.”

  Alōs placed a hand to his chest. “We will not go close to a single one.”

  The guard nodded, seemingly mollified. “We can show you the way.”

  “Oh, we would hate to take up any more of your time,” said Alōs. “Merely point us in the right direction, and we shall go there promptly.”

  The group walked the long way back down the hall, passing the alcove where they had hid, and halted where the corridor split into many paths.

  “Take the stairs at the end there.” The guard pointed to where a doorway led to descending stairs. “The library will be at the bottom on the right, through the double doors at the far end.”

  “I am in your debt,” said Alōs. “See, my love?” He pulled Niya closer against him. “I’ll be able to finish what you were begging me to start.”

  Niya wanted to cut off each and every one of his fingers.

  “Enjoy yourselves,” the servant, Barneth, whispered as they passed.

  Niya and Alōs watched the group leave, pretending to turn toward the library before quickly doubling back once the guard and servants were out of sight.

  Niya shoved Alōs away from her as they strode down the corridor to the princess’s rooms, a good deal quicker this time. “If you ever try something like that again,” she hissed, “I will melt the skin from your body.”

  “You should be thanking me for the suggestion,” said Alōs. “We were about to be caught.”

  “I’ll thank you to find a better alternative next time.”

  “As I remember it, you were not offering up any viable options yourself that wouldn’t have raised alarms. But I’m flattered my kiss appears to have affected you this much.” Alōs’s smile dripped smugness.

  “The only thing it affected was my dinner threatening to be expelled.”

  They quieted as they drew closer to the far corner. Niya sneaked a quick glance around the bend.

  Two guards stood in the middle of the hall, guarding the large double doors of Callista’s chambers.

  “They are not blessed,” said Niya as she pressed back against the wall.

  “No,” Alōs agreed. “Remember we need them pliable, not knocked out.”

  Niya nodded before taking a deep breath in. Rhythmically fluttering her fingers, she sent red tendrils of her magic along the ground. They traveled like silent serpents on the hunt.

  With a quick twirl of her hand, her powers wrapped around each guard.

  Their wills gave a soft tug of resistance before sighing to sleep.

  “They’re mine,” she said, pulse quickening.

  The soldiers didn’t move at their approach but merely stood rigid, eyes forward.

  “What did you do to them?” asked Alōs.

  “I made their minds blank.”

  “How long will it last?”

  “After I remove the connection to my magic? About a half sand fall.”

  Alōs nodded as he shot out his own green magic through the lock in the door.

  A soft click sounded, and they quickly slipped inside.

  Niya took in Princess Callista’s cavernous chambers. They stood in a massive receiving room made up of dusty-rose-and-orange detailing. Five other anterooms appeared to split off from where they stood. With a nod, she and Alōs turned from one another to search separately.

  Time seemed to fall too quickly as Niya ran hands over rough painted walls, looking for a trick latch, and pulled books and moved away hanging tapestries, hoping one would reveal another hidden room or safe, something cloaked where valuables would be stored.

  The fear of more servants or guards entering set her nerves on edge, especially since the walls were so thick in this caved palace, cutting off her senses from motion beyond what was closest. She felt like half a person without these aspects of her gifts, and she hated it.

  It was like only being able to take in half a breath, rather than a large, satisfying inhale.

  “In here,” Alōs called softly from Callista’s bedroom. Niya found him in the back of the princess’s large wardrobe, where rows and rows of beautiful garments were folded and hung at either side. Alōs stood before a heavy gold door set into the back panel.

  Niya’s magic pulsed with her whoosh of relief.

  “You found it,” said Niya, coming to his side.

  “Not necessarily. But whatever is in here holds value. I only hope that includes the Prism Stone.”

  Niya glanced to the round-dialed lock beside its handle. It gleamed with complicated markings—a spelled lock. Crisscrossing fingers wove together, appearing to each need to be individually opened for the clasp to give.

  “Will this be a problem?” asked Niya.

  “Thankfully, no.” Alōs crouched before the door, taking out a leather pouch from his pocket and opening it on the rugged floor to display an array of thin metal picks. Alōs bypassed the snake rake, long hook, and other standard lock-picking devices that Niya knew to select a thin straight rod that pulsed white at the tip.

  “Is that a magic lockpick?” asked Niya.

  “It is indeed.” Alōs grinned as he placed it next to the dial. “A mirror pick, it’s called. It can get through most locks.”

  “Where did you get such a thing?”

  Turquoise eyes glanced up at her, a mischievous twinkle in their depths. “I’m a pirate, Niya. And captain to the most notorious and successful ship—”

  “Oh, by the love of the lost gods,” she breathed in exasperation. “Never mind. Just get on with it, will you.” She waved an impatient hand.

  A soft chuckle rumbled out of him as he turned back to his task. Alōs’s attention refocused as he placed the glowing tip close to the interwoven locks.

  Niya dared not breathe as she watched him angle the tip into the first latch, his adept fingers twisting and curling it to bend and weave into the second and then the third, down the row of entwined fingers.

  Her nerves cascaded down her skin, too convinced someone would enter the princess’s chambers at any moment, see the stunned guards at the door, and raise the alarms.

  All they had done to get here, her kissing Alōs, it would be for naught. They would never get the stone and—

  Clink, clink, clink.

  The individual locks snapped open one by one. Alōs stood in a whoosh beside Niya and pulled the door open.

  All her tension fell from her like leaves dropping in autumn as utter splendor replaced her worry. “By the lost gods,” muttered Niya as she stepped into a small room lit by a hanging chandelier.

  Every inch, shelf, and hook sparkled with treasure. Diamond necklaces. Gold leaf masks encrusted with sapphires. Niya ran her hand over rows and rows of jeweled bracelets, the softest leather shawls that slipped through her fingers like water, and earrings woven out of silver spider silk. Niya’s mouth watered. The part thief that she was itched to have a few of these items find their way into her pockets.

  Niya turned from her shelf of fine treasure to find Alōs approaching the far end, his attention pinned to a crown on a plush white pillow. Even at this distance she saw the brilliant red glow from what was resting in its center.

  Her heart gave a thrilled pulse as she went to his side, each of them staring down at the gleaming Prism Stone. It was an alluring red siren in the center of the gold-tipped crown.

  This was it!

  Niya smiled wide as every part of her wanted to spin and twirl and dance in the utter elation.

  Her freedom rested a touch away.

  Her home, her sisters, her family—everything was wrapped up in the glistening jewel before them.

  And no one was around to stop them from taking it.

  “It’s ours,” whispered Niya as she glanced to Alōs. He had not moved or uttered a sound in some time. He stood rigid, tense, as though . . . but no, why would he be frightened? He finally had what he had hunted for so long. The final piece of the Prism Stone. “Alōs . . . ,” she began, pinching her brows together.

  “We
must be quick,” he said, shaking off whatever ghosts had clung to him.

  With nimble fingers, he removed a new pouch from his pocket, revealing the fake red gem his brother had given him. Though rough, it was just as red and rich in sparkle as Niya remembered from when she’d first seen it in his captain’s quarters. But now with the real one in front of them, Niya could see, right there in the center, it didn’t gleam with a hint of power and history like the real Prism Stone.

  She watched as Alōs studied the gem in the crown before holding up the fake. He shot a stream of icy-green magic from his fingertip, deftly carving the rock down to become an exact replica.

  “Hold this,” he instructed when he was done, handing Niya the imitation gem. She turned it between her fingers. It was just as rough along the surface, but more oval now. A smoothed purpose to its shape.

  Using a thin blade, Alōs bent forward to carefully pop out the Prism Stone and, spreading a bit of sticky durberry paste in the empty pocket, took the replica from her hand and settled it into the crown. He stepped back, admiring his work.

  If Niya hadn’t seen the switch, she wouldn’t have known it was done.

  She leaned close to Alōs as they each studied the prize in his palm. She had a strong urge to hug him in that moment, not out of any comradery but because it was done! They had it! Her magic soared through her veins, a warm barrage of triumph.

  Alōs remained quiet, pensive, as he turned the stone over and over.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “This isn’t all of it.”

  His words were a cold ice bath to her joy.

  Nonono, she thought quickly, he’s forgetting. “Of course it’s not all of it. The stone in your ring fits into this part here.” She pointed to the small groove in the side.

  “No.” He shook his head, brows pinching in. “There’s another cut . . . at the back. See?”

  Niya leaned in; a sizable chunk was missing on the other side. Her stomach twisted, the small amount of food she’d had at dinner threatening to come up. “So . . . what are you saying?” she dared ask.

  Alōs’s hard gaze met hers. “This isn’t the final piece of the Prism Stone.”