“Don’t tell me what to do.” She could kill him. As she could save life, she could end it. She dove into his magical core, searching, searching…
Flames surrounded her, licked her like hot tongues. Inside this man was a heat that boiled without burning. She fell into it, yellow and red and orange, beautiful and wild.
Warran had no fire inside him. His soul was pure ice.
With a gasp, Ani jerked herself out of the man’s consciousness. She released his throat and stared into the blackness. “Who are you? What do you want?”
He coughed. Big hands grabbed her wrists. Before she could react, he maneuvered her against the wall, pinning her. “Calm down.”
His voice was raspy with pain. She’d done that to him.
“I’m calm,” she lied. She was decidedly not calm. She was pressed to a stone wall in the depths of the Court complex by an unknown assailant. Her hands stung, her body ached and two Elders had just done…something terrible. What had she been so afraid of?
Hatred. Ice.
“What did you do to the lights?” More coughing interrupted his words. When he was finished, she responded.
“I took their magic.” For large or spontaneous spells, sometimes the magic that infused the Realm was inadequate. An extensive spell could create a brownout that lasted seconds to hours.
She wasn’t surprised hurting took more magic than healing. She was just surprised she’d overcome decades of training and the healer’s code to do it.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.” The man’s hands gentled on her shoulders. He smelled like smoke and spice. “You were in danger. What happened?”
“I feel like I’m in danger now.” She reached for the light network, brushing it with power. “You need to…”
The lights flickered on, dim and golden, and the face of Elder Embor hovered above hers. His cheekbone was scuffed, his neck laced with developing bruises.
She’d done that, too.
“Oh my stars.”
“Are you all right?”
He was asking if she was all right? His scent was the one she breathed. His hands were the ones holding her upright. His life was the one she’d almost taken.
“Oh my stars. The Primary.” Ani closed her eyes. “This can’t be happening. I thought you were… Oh my stars.”
“Are you all right?” he repeated.
Fresh panic rose within her. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean it.” Attacking the Primary was punishable by all sorts of things. “I can fix it. I’m authorized to heal. I’ve got my journeyman’s license.” She reached for his throat, and he stopped her.
“It can wait.”
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to…”
Assassinate him. Assassinate the Primary. Who would do that?
Fear. Hatred. Ice.
Ani’s vision tunneled white. Again. Her chest heaved convulsively, as stark and desperate as a heart attack. Her tight bustier didn’t make breathing any easier.
“Shhhh.” Warm hands cupped her face, stroked her hair. Lips touched her forehead, her temple.
Her body pulsed with fright. “I nearly killed you.”
“Hush. You’re all right.” Was he kissing her? She tasted smoke and sweet but couldn’t feel her face. She’d gone numb.
She began to shake, worse than when she’d been so cold. When had she been so cold? Her extremities prickled. She heard a dry whoop through a long tube and realized it was her, struggling for air.
In a great whoosh, her body vaulted up, followed by pressure against every inch of skin. Darkness again, a draft of magic. Then suddenly she plummeted into water.
The cold splash shocked her out of her fit.
“Hey!” she spluttered before she sank. Without thought, she reached for water magic, dragging the cool liquid through her lungs. Sanity accompanied it. After a long, weightless moment, she bobbed to the surface, shaking hair out of her eyes.
She was in the natural springs below the Court complex, the mineral smell and chill water a giveaway. Dim lights illuminated the cavern. Liquid drips echoed through the huge chamber. No other fairies were present. In order to maintain its purity, the spring-fed lake was only accessible via transportation.
Embor poised knee-deep in the pool, ready to lunge after her. When she remained at the surface, treading water, he relaxed. Slightly.
“Princess.” His face was in shadow. “Are you better?”
She licked bitter water from her lips. “Will I be punished?”
“For what?”
She kicked to the edge of the pool, her gown heavy. Dragging her to the bottom, where she could hide in shame.
In a tiny voice she said, “Attempted murder.”
He tilted forward. “What?”
“Attempted murder,” she repeated, and winced when it bounced around the chamber.
“Hardly.”
Did he not realize what she’d done? It wasn’t a spell Court trainees learned. Receiving a license meant pledging to do no harm. Desperation had taught her pain, and she wished there was a way to unlearn it.
Her legs and arms felt weightier than her gown. Her toes brushed the rocky floor. She’d lost her shoes. “You threw me in the water.”
“I thought your native element would soothe you.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll excuse me for not taking you in myself. I’m not fond of immersion.”
Ani adored swimming, but not when it was black and cold and she was recovering from a bizarre panic. The icy water sapped her energy. She rested when the water reached her hips. Chills shook her, but they were natural, not terror-induced.
“You’re freezing.” Water rose to Embor’s thighs as he extended his hand. Lines of tension formed around his mouth. “Come. Let’s get you out of the water.”
When she took his hand, his palm seemed hot enough to start a fire. It would feel delightful to stand close to him. Very close. Ani shivered.
“My room,” she suggested.
“Hold on.” She found herself transported, ears popping, until they slid out of between-space into her bedroom. He flicked his finger and a fire bloomed in the hearth. A hand, and a gust of air blew her curtains shut. The lights in the room cranked on, casting harsh shadows.
“Thank you for the transport.” She wrapped her arms around herself. Her soggy dress dripped all over the rug. Long, weedy hair clung to her face and neck. The temperature spell she’d purchased to cool her chamber was definitely functioning. “I’ll heal your injuries before you go.”
Embor shook his head no. He stood very, very close to the fire. “I’m not going anywhere until we discuss what happened.”
“If you need to t…tell the C…Court about the attempted murder, I understand. I broke my healer’s oath.” Her trembles made speech difficult. She glanced longingly at the fire, but he blocked the flames, his hands, as usual, behind his back.
“I’m more concerned about what put you in such a state to begin with.” He cleared his throat one last time, his voice losing its roughness. “You broadcasted panic like a beacon.”
“I did?” Ani felt a sneeze coming on and ducked her face into her wet sleeve. Vinegary water from the cloth wet her lips.
“Your cry for help…” He frowned as he inspected her. “Anisette, how cold are you?”
Her clammy garments and lingering shock prevented her temperature from equalizing. Her teeth chattered so hard she bit her tongue. “I’ll b…be fine momentarily.”
He hurried to her and captured her chin. “By Ka, this can’t be healthy. Your lips are blue.”
Hypothermia? She didn’t feel numb, but it would explain her confusion. Before she could respond he yanked at her embroidered bodice.
The tight laces had swelled into knots. Embor popped through them with controlled bursts of fire that smelled oddly of tea. The lavish overbodice plopped to the floor.
“Elder Embor, this isn’t necessary.” Ani shivered again, teeth clacking.
Cursing, he wrenched at the remaini
ng fabric, a gown with short sleeves and hooks down the back. Water flattened the bell skirts and petticoats like a giant mop. With decorative clothing a social obligation at Court, Ani cut corners where she could. She’d prefer not to damage this dress.
A few hooks popped in back, but her gown remained intact.
Ani pushed at his hands, his skin toasty. “I’m not hypothermic. Truly.”
“Woman, your skin is blue. Hold still.” A line of heat flashed down her middle, between her breasts, her legs, all the way to her ankles. Fire zinged her skin but didn’t scorch. Embor tugged one last time, muscles bunching, and her gown, petticoats, chemise, all her layers, ripped to either side, leaving her in nothing but stockings, bustier and bloomers.
The bustier loosened. Anisette snatched at it. If her bloomers had been divided by the flame…
They parted in the center, hanging by a thread. This time Embor grabbed for her underwear, his big, hot hands trapping the fabric against her hips.
She inhaled sharply. As did he.
The heat of his body, inches from hers, chased away every vestige of her chill.
“But you’re blue,” he said again. “Are you cold?”
“Not anymore.” She glanced between them. Blue stains mottled her pale skin and streaked her legs. Her formerly white bustier and bloomers were splotched with dye. His beige tunic and trousers had spots of blue along the front.
They peered down farther, to the wet, dark dress puddled around her feet.
“Gracious. I should have paid for the color fixative.” The dress was too far gone to save, but the petticoats could hopefully be sewn and bleached. Her cousin Janelle in laundry gave Ani a discount in exchange for an extra pair of hands on occasion.
“I ruined your gown.”
“It’s all right.” Why was he still standing there? His fingers widened, cupping her hips. His cuffed sleeves rode up at the wrists, where faint scars decorated his skin.
“It matched your eyes.”
“My eyes?” She lifted her head and found him disturbingly close.
“Blue.”
He wasn’t looking at her face. His gaze was still trained downward. On her dress? On something else?
The only place he touched was her hips. His palms were separated from her skin by fabric. Yet heat poured from him like a physical caress, tickling the fine hairs on her limbs and torso, brushing her lips.
Winding between her legs.
“Oh my stars.”
Embor shifted his attention to her face. “What about your stars?”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“I can’t read minds.”
“I, oh, of course not. Sometimes I can’t tell what I’ve said. I think things I wouldn’t dare tell anyone. But sometimes it comes out anyway.” Oh my stars, Elder Embor was holding her so close she could feel his wet pants against her knees.
A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth, drawing her attention to his lips. Creases along his cheeks gave him a stern appearance. He frowned so often. He smiled so infrequently. But oh my stars, this close his lips were smooth and full.
“You never speak out of turn.” She watched his lips form the words, not quite hearing them. “You’re one of the most consistently well-mannered people I know.”
“Well-mannered.” She’d never heard a single rumor about Embor’s romantic entanglements, and Janelle knew everything about everyone. Earlier tonight someone had said… Ani frowned. Ophelia. Ani had dined with the Torvals and they’d discussed Embor’s sex life.
They’d insisted he didn’t have one. And they’d… She couldn’t remember. No doubt they’d ranted about the election and she’d tuned them out.
She’d never been comfortable around Embor. He tensed her up like a Fey cat in a gnome hole. He intimidated her and accelerated her heart rate. She was always afraid he’d tell her what a disappointment she was, though he rarely spoke.
Yet she didn’t like to hear him criticized. She’d always accredited it to patriotism.
She found herself leaning toward him. Her fingers, where she clutched her bustier, nudged his tunic.
He studied her features. “Is something wrong? Are you feeling faint?”
Something was very wrong. Her heart hammered and her mouth dried and she wanted to kiss the leader of the fairy Realm. Oh my stars.
“Is that good?” she asked.
He blinked several times. His hands tightened on her hips. She felt her bones begin to liquefy, and her face tilt toward his. She was too close to properly read his hormone levels, and really, was it fair at a time like this?
“Anisette,” he murmured, and she was afraid he was, indeed, reading her mind, afraid he was about to scold her for having presumptuous thoughts about the Primary.
She talked over whatever he was about to say. “Is it good to be mannerly all the time?”
“Of course. Without manners we’re little better than humans.”
He was a head taller than she. She stared at his lips and willed him to bend forward.
He didn’t.
Should she?
Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t initiate a kiss with Elder Embor. But she could touch him. “I’d like to heal your bruises. Your cheek has a cut.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, it does, or yes, I can—”
“Heal me,” he said.
She raised a trembling hand and touched his cheek. Mending a cut was simple, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall how to do it.
Perhaps it was because she didn’t want to heal him. She wanted to kiss him.
He bent his head, his skin sliding beneath her fingertips until she touched the thick silk of his hair. “Anisette?”
Her bustier slipped, but he didn’t react. He stared at her with so much intensity it felt like he was already inside her.
Oh my stars.
She closed her eyes and waited, but he whirled away. Her bloomers fluttered to the ground. “Get dressed.”
“I’m sorry.” A blush suffused every inch of her. Even her toes were humiliated. She hustled to her closet and yanked on a robe.
“Why are you sorry?”
For ruining his outfit with dye from her cut-rate dress. For throwing herself at him. For nearly killing him. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll replace your gown.”
“I have others.”
He stood with his back to her, his hands clasped behind him and his head bowed. She wondered if he realized his fists were clenching and unclenching. Was he that disturbed? Fairies didn’t throw themselves at one another. There were customs, rules and ritual cards to make sure no one felt trapped or lost his or her free will.
Bonds were forever. A bond could never be forced, and the Fey didn’t force anything resembling a bond test.
It wasn’t done. It wasn’t possible. It was…
Whiteness fuzzed the edges of her vision, and she rubbed her eyes to clear them.
“We still need to talk,” he said gruffly.
“Forgive me for transgressing,” she said with some difficulty. “I only meant to heal you.”
Embor turned on his heel and pinned her in place with a gaze that contained nothing of what had almost happened between them. It was as cold and dispassionate as his nature had always been, prior to today. “That isn’t the behavior I want to discuss.”
“It’s not?” A mixture of relief and disappointment nearly felled her. Her hysteria was an easier topic than her immodesty, but she was curious why he’d rejected her. Was it because she was with Warran? Because she hadn’t offered him a card? Because he had no interest in Court trainees?
In sex?
Something flickered across his features, too quickly to decipher.
“Not right now,” he told her, in a way that shivered through her like a promise. “It’s more important to find out what sent you into a panic.”
“I overreacted in the hallway.” She tried reading his hormone levels but was too flustered to concentrate. “I
thought you were someone else.”
“Who?”
“Nobody.” She licked still-sour lips and tightened the belt of the robe. “I’d never hurt anyone intentionally.”
“What happened before I found you?”
“I had dinner with the Torval Elders. We talked about the election. I, um.” Her nerves twisted. “I want you to know, I fully support the job you’re doing as Primary.”
“Thank you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now tell me the truth.”
Anisette’s stomach hollowed like a pitted avocado. “I do support you. You have my vote.”
“You attacked me with magic there’s no way you learned here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nor could you have learned it from Talista. She doesn’t have earth magic.”
“I know.”
“You were hysterical. You can’t tell me you had a normal dinner with the Torvals.” He glowered at a spot beside her. “Did Warran do something to you? If he did I’ll…” Embor cut himself off, teeth snapping.
Well. It seemed the Primary wasn’t entirely dispassionate. The temperature in the room increased.
“I don’t remember.”
“You were sobbing. Crying for help. I didn’t mistake that.”
The temperature in the room increased further, and sweat broke out on Ani’s forehead. “You heard me cry for help?”
“I did.”
If she was the most well-mannered person he knew, Embor was the least volatile person she knew. If he said he’d heard a call for help, she believed him. She just didn’t remember needing help. She remembered wine. Politics. She hated wine, both Fey and human. She wasn’t fond of politics. Which cast doubt on the wisdom of her career path, but that wasn’t what Embor wanted to know.
She remembered something about a gift she didn’t want.
Pain twinged her temples. The stress of chasing toddlers, interacting with Embor and dining with the Torvals had beaten her down. Whenever she spent time with Warran now, all she could think was how she wished she’d never accepted his proposition card and how she needed to end it.
The thought of a bond test with Warran made her bilious.
The thought of a bond test with Embor—was absurd.
“Maybe you heard someone else who needed help,” she concluded.
One Thousand Kisses Page 5
