34. Fire
Fire
Mariana
The night was no match for the brightness of the party.
There were bonfires, lanterns, and great torches illuminating the dark.
The music had turned bawdy: lively melodies with lyrics that were mostly innuendo.
People ate, drank, and danced around the flames.
After our moment of closeness at the ceremony, Faren and I had split up—I had returned to my bench and he…
had disappeared into the maze of tents. All around me, folks were deep in their merrymaking, drunk and happy, and again, I was alone.
“Having fun?” Hattie plopped down on the bench beside me. She wore a pale blue dress with intricate embroidery on the bodice, her shoulders draped in a shawl to ward off the cold that I, myself, had been trying to ignore. “Fates, only you could look so miserable while surrounded by revelry.”
“The problems of the world don’t stop for parties,” I said.
“Parties aren’t meant to stop time, Mariana, they’re meant to make life more bearable.
” Hattie poked my leg, and I snatched her wrist in a vise-like grip.
She stuck her tongue out at me, wrenching her arm free.
There were few who did not cow to my threats, and it seemed most of them were located in this Fates-forsaken town.
“Did you enjoy the ceremony, at least?” Hattie pressed.
That, I couldn’t deny. “It was lovely.”
She clasped her hands together in a romantic gesture. “It was, wasn’t it? I’m so happy for them. They had to overcome so much to get to this day.”
I bobbed my head.
“They’re grateful to you, you know,” Hattie went on, crossing one leg over the other and readjusting her skirts. “For your hand in their escape from the Western Wood.”
I grunted, obscuring how touched I felt.
“Idris said you threatened him, and told him that he would owe you for the kindness, but that was a lie, wasn’t it?” She didn’t allow me the chance to counter. “You did it out of the kindness of your heart.”
“I don’t have a heart,” I told her.
“Of course you don’t.” She brushed a curl out of her face. “I’ve been working on a theory,” she continued cheerfully. “About the Well of Fate and Oaths.”
“What is it?”
“It’s…just a theory,” Hattie replied cryptically.
My hand found the dagger hidden under my dress. This was hardly a place to threaten the officiant of a wedding, but if I had to, I would.
Seeing the outline of the sheath under my skirt, Hattie tisked. “Come now, Mariana, don’t be impatient. I was about to say this: of all the Oaths and all the magics and all the alchemy, love is the most powerful.”
I wrinkled my nose. I’d felt sentimental earlier, but her cloying words were of no use to me in this matter. “That’s a stupid theory.”
“She said to the alchemist who uncovered the cure for abominations,” Hattie replied tartly.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“All this love and sweetness in the air has me feeling generous.” A shrug. “My apologies.” She stood and left, skipping over to where a pair of fire dancers were twirling ignited batons.
A growl of frustration rumbled in the back of my throat. A breeze ruffled my hair, and with a shiver, I rubbed the gooseflesh that sprouted along my bare arms. The night had brought a chill, the stars sparkling coldly overhead.
“Fates, those lines were endless,” Faren said, appearing with plates and cups balanced precariously in his hands. A bundle wrapped in twine was wedged under one arm. He held his spoils out to me as if I’d been expecting him. “For you,” he said. “Or, rather, us.”
“You were…?” I trailed off.
“Getting us drinks? Supper?” He smiled and sat next to me. “Did you think I’d abandoned you?”
Without reply, I helped him unload his haul: steaming ciders, savory hand pies, and an assortment of fruity confections for dessert. When his hands were finally free, he presented the bundle that had been tucked under his arm. I stared at it.
“Go on, I know you’re cold,” Faren said, jerking his chin at my bare shoulders.
Accepting it from his hands, I tugged at the twine, unraveling the binding.
The bundle was a shawl of fine quality, woven with soft yarn in shades of brown that complimented my dress.
With care, I wrapped it around my shoulders, appreciating the lush texture.
My eyebrows pinched as I sat with the relentlessness of his kindness.
“Suspicious, isn’t it?” he joked.
“What?”
“You’re frowning.”
“It’s…nice.” I waved a hand at the party happening all around the bench we shared. “All of this is…nice.” It made my heart ache.
Faren reached for his supper, the wax paper crinkling as he exposed the hand pie and took a bite. “Caring about things is always a gamble.” His sentiment was heavy, yet his tone was light. “But enjoying them doesn’t mean you’re more likely to lose them.”
It was shocking, how well he’d come to know me.
As we ate, our elbows brushed from time to time, and I found that I didn’t mind. The food and the alcohol and the warmth of my new shawl settled some of my strife, allowing me to see the party through new eyes and appreciate it for what it was: a celebration of what the town held most dear.
There was a reason I kept myself apart from such niceties. For more than two decades, I’d built an armor of ill-tempered detachment, hardening myself against the risk of more heartache. But what was life without things to love? What was the point of armor if all it guarded was a hollow heart?
After we’d finished the candies he bought—blackberry jellies with mint—Faren brushed the sugar dust off his fingers, stood, and offered a hand.
“What now?” I asked, dubious.
“Now, we dance.”
“I don’t know how to dance.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, urging me up. “I’ve seen you fight. It’s basically the same.”
He nudged me in the direction of one of the bonfires, where musicians were singing another crude yet jolly tune—something about a fair maiden’s flower coming into bloom—and dancers were hopping and twirling around the blaze.
“Sword fighting is not the same as dancing,” I protested, but Faren had taken hold of my wrist and was yanking me toward the commotion.
“It’s footwork,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”
“If this were sword fighting, you would be following my lead.”
“True, but in this one single instance, I am better than you.”
He lifted his arms, creating a shape that I must’ve been required to mimic or mirror. I glanced around at the other couples, but they were moving too quickly for me to make sense of the starting pose.
“Take my hand,” Faren said, tipping his palm up in offering. In the light of the bonfire, his tan skin glowed gold, and for some foolish reason, I was tempted.
“Must we—”
“For once in your miserable life, Mariana, would you dare to enjoy something?” he admonished. “Take. My. Hand.”
With a growl, I did, squeezing his knuckles harder than was necessary.
“Come closer,” he ordered, “and rest your other hand on my shoulder.”
I did that, too, nails biting into his shirt.
He was immune to my physical protests. “Now, match my footwork.”
Without warning, he placed his palm in the center of my back, drew me flush with his body, and spun us into the fray.
The world became a blur of shadows, smoke, and firelight, with only Faren in focus.
Couples whirled around us, sleeves and body heat whooshing past me, close but never colliding.
I was clumsy, dizzy, but I was also smiling as we galloped around the flames.
It was like sparring, in a way: two bodies revolving around one another, responding to each other’s steps.
The difference was that we moved in partnership, and I didn’t feel defensive; there were no consequences when I misstepped, no winners or losers.
My hair streamed and my skirts billowed.
Faren released me for a twirl, spinning me round with our joined hands, only to pull me into his arms again, our chests colliding.
Laughter bubbled out of me as we picked up our pace, matching the thudding of the drums. My magic hummed with the warmth of my exertion and the thrill of Faren’s nearness, and prickled where the cold night air stung my cheeks.
We danced and danced. Two songs, three. Gradually, my graceless footwork became quicker and more confident, and I didn’t have to think so hard to intuit Faren’s movements. And Fates damn him, he was right: I was enjoying myself.
Eventually, the musicians’ notes cascaded into a slow, meandering ballad.
Some folks walked off, while new couples joined the light of the bonfire, holding each other close.
I was about to break free from Faren when he scooped me nearer, fitting me against his considerable frame.
One hand remained on my back, respectfully high, while the fingers of his other twined with mine.
He guided us into a predictable box step, and as he held me flush against him, my hand on his shoulder, I felt as if I were floating.
His breathing rocked me, calming as our dance slowed.
“You’re having fun,” he said, his voice vibrating through my sternum. “When do you think you’ll use that dagger you brought?”
“Depends on how much you tease me for having fun.”
“I have no interest in teasing you tonight,” he murmured—then inhaled quickly as he seemed to realize the innuendo. “Actually, that’s not exactly—”
I squeezed his hand—hard. “These musicians are getting to you.”
“It’s not the naughty songs that are putting ideas in my head, sweetheart.”
I tipped my head back enough to look into his eyes. They were alight from the bonfire, heated. He was flirting with me. Something about the wide-open sky full of stars made me feel like I didn’t quite mind.
As we leaned slightly apart, Faren regarded me, too, his gaze tracing my mouth, my clavicles, the bodice of my borrowed dress. His jaw feathered and his brow creased slightly, and I couldn’t make sense of the expression, until—
“You’re exquisite,” he said.
I snorted dismissively. “More flattery?”
He drew me against him again, my breasts pressing against his ribs. He tipped his head so that he could whisper in my ear. “It’s fact.”
I shoved his chest, a weak rebuttal that had my fingers tracing the canyon between his pecs. I cocked my head. “Beauty can’t be fact, it’s subjective.”
“Not yours,” he replied. “Not to me.”
Faren’s hand slid higher up my back. His fingers found the bare nape of my neck, sending a panicked shiver down my spine. My heart beat faster, and my skin began to tingle with excruciating awareness, and suddenly everything felt too close.
“Do you want me to stop touching you?” His lips were against my ear. “Do you want me to let go?”
My magic was frantic, sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin even as I began to sweat along the tightest seams of my dress. My mind clanged like a warning bell, a litany of perfectly justified protests ringing in my ears.
At some point, my eyes had fluttered shut. I forced them open. “Don’t let go.”
His breath on my neck was kindling, his next words, a match: “Then do it.”
“Do what?”
“Whatever you’re about to do,” he said. “Stab me or kiss me. Whatever you want, just end my suffering in this suspense.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t take it anymore.”
My body was alight, tight with warning and need. Both of Faren’s options would be disastrous, and I drifted between them, untethered.
Avoiding the challenge in his eyes, I let my gaze fall to the strong column of his neck.
There was a dark freckle under his jaw, half hidden by his collar.
I’d never noticed it before, and in spite of my frantic nerves, it tugged at me like gravity.
I rose onto my tiptoes, dragging my chest against his. Deciding but not deciding.
In response, Faren dipped his chin, his cheek grazing mine. We moved in tandem, angling our mouths closer, and closer, and it felt inevitable, this kiss that we had not even shared yet, a Fate more real than anything I’d ever seen in the Mirrors.
His breath skimmed my mouth, first. Then his lips. A single, questioning touch.
The scattered sparks of my magic coalesced at that single point of contact, the whole of my attention settling on the tantalizing seam between his lips, where I could sense the wet warmth of his mouth, if only he parted further.
The ringing in my ears ceased, and I arched up, fitting my lips more firmly against his and thrilling at the sensation of him, warm and supple and beseeching.
He groaned with relief, but there was a quaver in his manner, as if he were still holding back.
I gripped the muscles bordering his neck, pulling myself closer, chasing our shared desire.
When I darted my tongue out to taste him, he groaned a second time, opening up to me, setting me ablaze.
His hold tightened as he enfolded my waist with one strong arm, the other hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head, steadying our frenzy.
His mouth was heat and velvet, urgent and claiming.
Time slowed with the slide of our lips and tongues, the rocking of our bodies. Nothing else seemed to exist as my magic lit me from the inside, gilding me in fire, scorching me everywhere we touched. And it was…too much.
Too vulnerable.
Too intense.
Too fucking good.
With a heaving breath, I broke our kiss, trying to calm my magic before I combusted.
Faren looked down at me, his brown eyes eclipsed by wide pupils, his gaze dark with desire. He hummed appreciatively, giving my hip a sensual squeeze, unaware that I was no longer panting with lust but panic.
A great wanting broke like a dam in my heart, desire rushing through me in a dizzying cascade, the fire in my skin turning it to steam.
My body tingled and my heart throbbed, the alarm bells once again clanging in my skull, urging me to run far away from this disaster.
I’d been entangled with a fellow knight before, and it’d ended in tragedy; I didn’t want to do that again. I couldn’t.
“I—” I stammered, then shoved him off of me and fled.