The Incendiary (The Selvaren #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

GAVIN SMYTH

I’m still trying to remember.

—UNSENT CORRESPONDENCE FROM QUEEN ARYELLA I TO THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA

25th of Floris, 402 Years Ago

The first time I saw her, she walked into my shop demanding a blade.

She took my heart instead.

For minutes after she left, I stood frozen in the doorway of my blacksmith’s shop, staring at the spot where she’d stood. Willing her to come back and wondering what had just happened to me.

Now, a day later, I was pacing around my loft above the forge. It looked and felt far too small. I uttered a string of curses and wiped the surface of the tiny, rickety table I ate meals on for the third time. What the hell was I thinking? In what world would she want to be up here with me ?

Grunting in frustration, I swept the floor once again and readjusted the few books and trinkets on my shelf by the small, round window. The dull little landscape painting on the wall above my double bed needed to be straightened. Why had I never found something nicer to hang?

I stared at the bed, grateful that I had never taken a woman there. It was my space. And it had once belonged to Eden and Isaac, the couple who’d taken me in as a child. I refused to taint it.

But Ella was welcome here. She couldn’t sully a thing.

I frantically remade the bed again. Not that I planned to bed her. Fuck , I’d never wanted something so badly in my life, but nothing was happening tonight. She deserved to be courted, to be adored, before anyone laid a hand on her.

The city bells chimed at six o’clock.

“Hello?”

I froze when her sweet voice drifted up to my loft from the shop below. Absurdly punctual, of course. Panicked, I looked down at my attire—scuffed black boots, a wrinkled gray shirt, dark work pants with a soot stain on the left thigh. The nicest outfit I owned.

“Shit!” I tried to wipe off the stain with a stray cloth, then glanced at my freshly shaved face in the mirror. My thick, dark hair fell over my forehead and ears, but it was clean and mostly contained.

I never would be good enough for her, but this would have to do.

“Gavin?”

Hands sweating, heart pounding, I rushed down the stairs, taking two at once.

When I saw her, I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

Surely, the gods blessed this girl with more beauty whenever she slept.

Her hair, which had been in braids yesterday, now flowed in gentle silver curls over her shoulders.

She wore a hooded cloak and below it a sky-blue velvet dress, its neckline beaded with tiny pearls.

Her deep green eyes, soft freckles, and lush, full lips were perfect.

My chest and face burned. Gods, she was an angel.

“Sorry, I was…” I snatched a crumpled piece of parchment from my worktable and tossed it into the forge. “I was cleaning.”

Smiling, she lowered her hood. All of her was a dream, but it was the gentle sincerity in her smile that gripped my heart and held it in a vise. Her goodness .

She was so breathtaking it hurt .

Pink colored her cheeks. “You didn’t need to clean for me.”

“Yes, I did,” I chuckled, stepping aside to let her pass. “Dinner’s upstairs.”

She glanced at me. And the unease in her beautiful eyes lit a dangerous fire in me. I had to remind myself she was safe to quell it. I wanted to destroy anything that frightened her. I wanted to shield her from a world destined to pollute a heart so pure.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promised her. “You’re safe with me.”

She had no reason to trust me. But I didn’t know how else to comfort her but speak the truth.

She let her shoulders relax and nodded. When she passed by, I inhaled her scent.

Strawberries and something soft and good that settled on my skin and made me feel like I was floating on warm air. Like sunlight.

I followed behind her as she climbed the stairs with my eyes trained on my feet, trying to be a gentleman.

When she reached the top, I was careful not to brush against her or startle her while passing. I watched as she took in her surroundings. The crowded wooden shelves on the walls that held glass jars, metal pots, plates, and bowls. The small table with the uneven leg that I should have fixed.

Her gaze lingered at the sight of the bed, and she fidgeted with the tie of her cloak around her neck. Her throat worked through a swallow.

“I’ve only got the one room,” I rushed out to distract her, hating how nervous this was making her. “It’s not much, but it’s my home.”

“I like it. It’s cozy.” Heat flooded my veins as she smiled again.

“I like it better with you here.” I couldn’t believe the charming things coming out of my own mouth, but they were true. “You’re very sweet.” She blushed.

Sweet. A word no woman had ever called me.

She wandered over to the shelf that held a couple of fishhooks, nails, and some simple iron twists, spirals, and knots. Some of the first pieces I’d ever made. “Is it just you that lives and works here?”

“This place used to belong to a blacksmith and his wife. Isaac and Eden. They raised me. Taught me everything I know… other than the fighting.” They had never approved of the fighting.

She gave her attention to one of my trinkets.

Reluctantly, I turned my back to her. The steam from the stove and nerves in my body caused sweat to prickle on my forehead.

I looked down at the meal and, fearing I’d make a poor impression in more ways than one, wished I could afford more than beef and potatoes from the market.

“Where are your guardians?” Ella asked.

I cleared my throat. “They both passed away five years ago.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Her tone was sweet and rich with compassion.

“They knew my mother,” I continued, tossing a glance over my shoulder.

“She died giving birth to me. Isaac and Eden didn’t have any children of their own, so they took me in.

” I never spoke about this to anyone, yet here I was, revealing my life story.

I wanted to be vulnerable with her. She felt so genuine. “I’m grateful to them.”

“I would have loved to meet them,” she answered sweetly.

I chuckled quietly to myself. They’d cared for me, but they would have adored her. Especially Eden, though she would’ve warned Ella to stay the hell away from me for her own sanity.

“They would have loved you,” I answered, so preoccupied with cooking that I didn’t hear her approach from behind. Her fingers were suddenly on my back, and in her touch there was light and love and fire and air. I felt renewed .

“Are you all alone?” she asked.

I turned and rested my hand over hers, needing her close. Her skin was warm and soft beneath mine.

“I’m not alone right now. And…” Shit, this was forward, but I wanted to be honest. “I don’t think I’ve gone a full ten seconds without thinking about you since you left my shop.”

She fought a smile. “Is that normal for you?”

How could I answer that without sounding crass?

There had been a lot of women, but none had ever held my attention, and I could hardly remember their names.

I hated admitting that to myself with her standing before me.

She was infinitely beyond what I deserved, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

“Normal? Not particularly,” I muttered, gesturing to the table. “Please, sit.” I needed to put some distance between us before I lost my wits, grabbed her, kissed her, trapped her in my arms until morning.

As I served us both food, she asked me questions no one had ever bothered to ask before. How long had I been a blacksmith? Had I traveled much outside of Brinnea? What was my favorite color? (Green, after one look in her eyes.)

When she took her first bite, I found myself wishing I’d spent the last few years doing a lot less drinking, fucking, and fighting and much more cooking and praying to the gods.

The tension in my body eased and my appetite returned enough to eat when she covered her mouth with the manners of a true lady and said, “This is delicious.”

We talked for hours. She was way smarter than me, despite being younger.

Eden had educated me a little—reading, writing, arithmetic, history—but Ella spoke about texts both ancient and modern, tales of the gods, scientific theories I’d never heard of.

Her passion was contagious. Her dimples popped every time she smiled.

I suddenly wanted to read all these things so I would have more to discuss with her. I wanted her to smile more .

She opened up quickly, like she’d been longing to share her thoughts with someone for ages. It took me no time at all to realize I’d be content to hear her talk for the rest of my life.

After my last bite, I cleared my throat and asked the question I had been working up the courage to ask through the whole meal.

“Are you… spoken for?” I sent a desperate prayer to the gods that she wasn’t already in love with someone. Love. The word was new to me, but when I looked at her, it was all I could think about.

“No.” She looked down at her fidgeting fingers. “But I haven’t been completely honest with you. And I need to be, because being near me is… dangerous.”

“You’re in danger?” That was all I heard. Danger. “Who?” I stood, propelled by a protective instinct I didn’t understand. I should have pressed her yesterday when she said she needed a weapon. “Who wants to hurt you, Ella?”

“Slow down, Gavin. I haven’t even told you who I am.”

But I couldn’t slow down. I was ready to punish now and ask questions later.

“I know who you are to me ,” I answered brusquely. “ Who wants to hurt you?”

As she stared, her eyes filled with a resigned sadness that I didn’t understand.

“Ella.” I dragged my chair around the side of the table, leaned forward, and held her hands. “Tell me who wants to hurt you.”

She cleared her throat. “Molochai.”

My brow furrowed. “Why would he want to hurt you , specifically?”

“Because my mother is Queen Christabel.”

I stared and waited for her to correct herself, but she didn’t.