Pinnacle #3
It’s a waste of magic, but I don’t care. I find an evocation among my spells and release it, holding the fiery burst contained in the palm of my hand. It glows red hot, and even with the abjuration built into the spell, its warmth pulses against my skin.
“Am I, Feisal? Seems to me that the power you say I’m afraid to claim runs through my very veins.”
He flinches back on instinct. I hold the magic back from causing any harm, but he can still feel the heat.
“You carry it, sure. But what are you doing with it, Olbric?” he demands. “Sitting in the Crux? Running assignments at the behest of those above you?”
I trace a finger down his cheek and am rewarded with his shudder.
As stoic as he is, he can’t hide the fire that’s lit in his umber eyes, reflecting the light in my hand like twin flames.
It’s good to know that even when I’m not dressed more femininely, I can still catch his eye like I did in Varice’s shop.
At the time, Varice had claimed she’d never seen someone look so afraid and ruttish all at once, and that mix of emotions is plain on his face once more.
“Hmm, let me guess,” I say as I trace his square jaw with one heated finger. “You’d rather I be running them on behalf of you and the Shykhdar?”
Feisal smirks even as he warily tilts his chin up as my finger comes to rest underneath it. “Wrong again, and so very shortsighted.”
My eyes narrow, and I loosen my grip on the spell in my hand, letting it glow a little hotter to show my dwindling patience. Feisal flinches, and the knot in his throat bobs again as he swallows his fear.
“An arrangement is in sight that could bring magiline to Cairish, Olbric. An agreement that would make your sister Lavleen very, very happy. But what we don’t have is a master wizard who can teach others how to use it.”
Surprise makes me lose my grip on the spell.
I close my hand, snuffing the fire, but the sudden movement makes Feisal flinch.
His body is still trapped between me and the temple wall, but he seems in no hurry to escape me.
Even without my fire reflected in his eyes, the look he gives me smolders.
And being the object of that fear, that lust, is a heady mix.
“So that’s the plan, then? They’re going to marry Lavleen to King Thermilious in exchange for magiline?”
That sly grin is quick to return to his face. “They’re going to allow Lavleen to be with the man she’s chosen in exchange for magiline. But to truly bring magic to Cairish, we need a wizard in a Shykh’s seat, Olbric.”
His full plan comes together, and fuck, but I hate how brilliantly he’s played this. I’ve always known he wanted to be the person to bring magic to the desert, and he’s snatched hungrily at every opportunity to do just that.
“And getting me to take my father’s seat just like he asked you to is the honey on top, isn’t it?”
Feisal’s grin turns sharp, one eyebrow ticking up in acknowledgment of a point scored. “What can I say? I’m nothing if not a loyal hunting hound.”
I keep my expression neutral as I weigh my options.
I don’t need to be a Shykh to teach magic in Cairish.
With the Crux’s resources behind me, it would likely be even more successful than a lone wizard attempting to pass on knowledge, but I know that won’t be a good enough bargain for Feisal.
Not when it would mean failing the task my father assigned him.
No, he wants to weave every last piece into place in the tapestry he’s created.
And I can make him think he’s succeeded.
I smirk and release him from the cage of my arms. He draws in a breath, yet he’s no less tense, no less wary.
I take a step back and tilt my head as I rake my eyes over him.
Samira wasn’t sure what tactic he would use to sway me into my father’s seat, but I think I have an idea.
There’s a heat in his eyes, a desperation that makes me think he’ll do anything to see this deal sealed.
“If I agree to take Barric’s seat, what will you give me in return?” I ask.
Feisal closes the distance between us in one eager step.
One hand slides through my loose hair to cup the back of my head before his mouth crashes against mine.
Like he’s been waiting for the Goddamn opportunity.
The sounds of Pinnacle echo down the hall, but the noise can’t drown out the ragged edge to Feisal’s breath.
This is calculated on his part, a means to an end. The kiss is as fierce as it is brief, leaving my lips tingling in the aftermath. Feisal steps back, closing his wantonness safely behind his mask once more.
But no matter how good of an actor he is, he can’t hide the desire, the heat of lust that smolders in his eyes as he says, “Whatever you want, Olbric.”
Oh, but a part of him wants this too. He would have never tried this tactic, tried to seduce me, if some part of him didn’t. But it also makes me wonder if he’s done this before. Leveraged his good looks and body to try to seal a deal.
I smirk at him, betraying nothing before I turn and head down the path back to the palace without a word.
He’ll give me what I want, alright. And he’ll regret ever thinking he could beat me at my own game. I’ll make sure of it.