Burnt (Blood and Fire Book 1)

by Michelle Wheet & Lyn Lowe

didn’t need to tell her. Amorette knew. He could hear it in the way her breathing caught, the way she leaned away from him, the way she pulled back into herself. She knew them both, better than anyone else. Better than they knew themselves. Jun said it all the time. He was right.

  “I’m sorry.” He needed to force the words past a thick blockage in his throat. They were hardly a squeak.

  Eighteen

  In the morning someone came for her. It was a tiny girl, all sharp angles and splotchy red skin. She peered at Kaie from underneath long white-blonde hair. Her dark blue eyes caught him in an odd way. Like she was seeing right through him. He smiled at her but she didn’t say a word. Just reached out a hand for Amorette and led her away.

  There was a married couple on the other side of their screen. They introduced themselves the night before. Ren, a tall and skinny man with dark skin, gave them a of couple hand-carved bowls as a welcome gift. His pale and bony wife, Silvy, shared some of their stew. They were both friendly and kind. For them, Kaie tried to act grateful. He was grateful. But summoning up that feeling from underneath the numbness spreading its tendrils through his mind was almost impossible. Amorette didn’t even speak. They seemed to understand, or at least accept, that behavior from both of them. They expressed no interest in socializing once the food was served. Kaie was almost as grateful for that.

  Someone came for them that morning too. They were just as quiet about their departure as Amorette was. The flapping of the skin door was the only indication they’d left.

  No one came for Kaie. He waited, watching the door with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. But no one else came to his awful little hovel. At some point he realized no one would. That he was going to be left sitting there alone all day.

  At first he spent the time trying to figure out improvements to make to their new home. Ren explained the strange fire pit – he called it a fireplace – to him the night before and he thought he understood it. But it didn’t seem especially safe. Some of the stones looked like they were on the verge of falling out and the inside was a terrible mess. He could gather some grasses to make a mat for the floor. It was warm enough now, but fall was still new. Eventually it would get cold. When it did a mat would be much nicer than the bare earth he was sitting on now.

  All those plans took about twenty minutes, if that.

  There was a small bucket in the corner by the fireplace. Deciding that if they were going to forget him he could forget the “stay in your house” rule, Kaie grabbed it and headed out to the well.

  No one else was there. All the houses were silent, quieter even than the vault. Not a single puff of smoke streamed out of what Ren called chimneys. Not even the sound of a barking dog broke up the stillness.

  His grunts as he pulled the water out of the well didn’t do much to accomplish that either. His body still ached from the beatings it took. The healer’s work didn’t put him completely back to right and his treatment since hardly helped. It was hard work dragging that bucket back up. But Kaie found himself biting back the noises. Something about this quiet felt wrong to break. It was so damn empty.

  Back in his new home, Kaie went to work cleaning out the fireplace. He found a pot discarded there along with a contraption like the one Silvy used to hold her own in the fire. Both were dented, abused and filthy. When the fireplace was cleaned out he went to work on them. It took two more trips out to the well and most of the daylight, but he got all three more or less serviceable. Then he went to the spot Ren described the night before to gather wood set aside for the slaves of East Field.

  When Amorette returned he was nursing a fire to life to cook a stew not unlike the one Silvy made. She said nothing. She continued to say nothing through dinner, then laid down on one of the blankets with her back to him and went to sleep. As much as it hurt he couldn’t blame her for it.

  The next day the blonde girl came again. He smiled and she stared. Amorette left without a word. Ren and Silvy left without a word. No one came for him.

  Kaie cleaned the pot and fireplace. He washed himself and his clothes. He arranged the blankets. It took about an hour and a half. Then there was nothing to do.

  The day after that was even worse.

  He thought about going crazy. There was nothing to do, nothing to plan. Kaie didn’t know how to deal with it. His mind spun around in circles, going over puzzles he would never solve. Or dwelling on memories of his parents and Sojun, prodding at the pain with the mindless obsession of a tongue poking at a bitten lip. Insanity seemed a perfectly valid way of dealing with it.

  That was the day the healer came to see him. At first Kaie didn’t recognize him. It wasn’t that the kid looked any different. Maybe a little less pale. It just didn’t seem right, seeing him here. He didn’t fit in this sad, empty place.

  The boy knocked on the side of the wall as he came in, interrupting Kaie’s silent meditation of the long-cold coals at the bottom of the fireplace. He was carrying a small bundle and offered a smile that never reached his eyes. “I’m glad to see you escaped Lady Autumnsong’s attention, Bruhani.”

  Kaie scowled. “Glad someone is.” It was more than he intended to say but the boy was the first person to speak to him in two and a half days. The words just sort of spilled out before he thought about it.

  “I’ve brought you and your girl more clothing.”

  Kaie took the offered bundle without thinking, casting an uninterested glance inside. “What’s with all the shirts here? Do they leave off the right side because they think the gods have some special affection for that shoulder or something?”

  The boy made an odd face. “You’re kidding?”

  He shook his head. “I spent a few hours trying to figure it out yesterday. That’s the best I could do.”

  He expected a chuckle, but the kid didn’t take the bait. “How could they be certain who is a slave, if they can’t see your brand?”

  And, just like that, it wasn’t funny anymore. Every night he stared at the dark red welt in Amorette’s flesh, hating these people for placing their mark on her, knowing he wore the same. Thinking about it was enough to make his hands ache for the chance to do damage.

  There was no way to fix it. Even if he could get his fingers around the throat of the woman who burned them or the one who told her to do so, it wouldn’t take the brands from their shoulders. They were owned now, the both of them. And he couldn’t undo it.

  “Are you here to take me to work?” He wasn’t sure what he hoped the answer was. Kaie was eager for anything to end the numbing boredom and loneliness of his last few days but he surely didn’t want to go happily about his slavery.

  The boy’s head shook again. “You’re injured. Less than they think, of course, but you need time to heal. I told them a month. You’ll likely only get three weeks, but that’s just a bit more than you really need and not unexpected. You’re a waste of money until you’re put to a task. The Mistress only tolerates waste to a point.”

  The neglect, which he thought a form of punishment, made so much sense now that Kaie was a bit embarrassed he didn’t put it together before.

  The boy flashed another sad smile. “I thought you would appreciate the time to adjust.”

  Kaie tried not to grimace. “Thanks.” He thought it best to leave things at that but his lack of conversation was overriding his better judgment. “I would rather be doing something. I don’t do well, sitting around by myself all day with nothing to occupy my time but contemplating the dirt under my nails. I was almost sold on the losing my mind plan, before you showed up.”

  The boy’s eyes widened in such a clear expression of surprise it was actually comical. “You don’t meditate?”

  Kaie swallowed his laugh when he realized it wasn’t meant to be a joke. “Gods no. What would I do that for?”

  “I thought everyone who can touch the Jhoda – old magic – meditates. It helps to focus our abilities, control the wild aspects of ourselves that would make the magics be dangerous. Yo
u’re the most powerful I’ve ever seen… How do you manage, without meditation?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t.”

  It was an honest answer but he could read the boy’s dissatisfaction clearly. What other answer was there to give? The kid clearly considered the Jhoda some great gift. Kaie didn’t share that assessment. And the only way he knew to explain it was to share exactly what kind of magic was pumping through him. That wasn’t an option. No one could know.

  The boy’s head shook one more time. In amazement or disparagement, Kaie couldn’t tell. He supposed it didn’t really matter. “Well, I guess I’m sorry then, Bruhani. I don’t know what to tell you. I could try to visit, if it would help. I doubt I could manage every day but the Mistress’s son isn’t so bad. I’m sure I can slip away for a few hours every couple days.”

  He didn’t want a friend, especially not this one. The boy was meek, cowed, not at all the sort of person who could withstand the punishment the gods were sure to dole out for associating with him. And the kid certainly wasn’t going to help him find a way to get Sojun and Amorette out of this mess. It didn’t seem like a wise decision, according to the boy’s own explanation of the sentiment toward magic users, to associate with one regardless.

  But just the thought of another two or three weeks of the silence and uninterrupted boredom was enough