“Fire,” I explained, shaking my head. I knew that what I was about to share would be impossible to believe. And if he did believe me, listening to me would be so dangerous, I was not sure that he would not leave. Perhaps it would be better for us both if he did. “I’ve not had time to truly understand or study my connection to it,” I explained with a shrug. “I just know there’s a strange and powerful stirring in me when I lift my hands and focus my mind.”
Syndrian stood beside me, almond oil and woodsmoke filling my nose. “That’s how you started the fire in the woods,” he murmured, exhaling a breath that sounded disappointed.
I nodded, clapping my hands while I studied the orange tendrils just to see what would happen. The flames leapt in time with my movements. I turned toward him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I did not mean to put you at risk.”
The cottage was quiet except for the crackling in the fireplace, which made the heavy footfalls as Syndrian moved behind me echo loudly in my ears. My skin heated as I felt him loom behind me.
“There is no danger in Efimia I would not fight for you.” His words were so low, I nearly missed them.
“I appreciate your…concern for me. You’re very kind, Syndrian. You’re a great many things I realize now that I deeply appreciate.” A flush that competed with the warmth emanating from the fire heated my cheeks. “But I can’t…you mustn’t…”
My words were jelly, wobbling and uncertain. I had no explanation, no defense. I had revealed to Syndrian that I wielded magic. Even if I suppressed it and denied it forevermore, he now knew one of the secrets that could destroy me. Destroy him.
“Forget that I said anything. Forget what you’ve seen…” The gravity of what I’d done struck me like a powerful wind. I shivered, crossing my arms over my chest tightly. “I’m sorry.”
A growl like a pang of hunger curled Syndrian’s lips and I felt him tremor behind me. “Pali…”
I turned to face him, but could not look in his eyes. Would not meet the sweetness and the sparkle contained there. His purity would only remind me of how truly tarnished I was. A woman from a family of thieves, liars. A woman bound to continue my family’s vile legacy.
“Never.” Syndrian’s voice curled over my ears like steam, hot and soothing. “Never apologize for what you are. Not to me.” He leaned closer, the soft fabric of his tunic so close to my face, I could see the dark shadow of his chest through the material.
He moved those large, work-worn hands to tip my chin.
“Pali,” he breathed my name, shuttering his eyes closed. “Promise me you’ll never go back to Kyruna. Abandon this tournament. The people there, they—”
I swallowed against the knot in my throat. He released my chin but I kept my face lifted to his. If I was going to endanger us both, I would not let there be half truth between us.
“There is no escaping the people you’ve mentioned,” I admitted. “I’m to be married into the Otleich family. My parents believe it is what’s best for my protection. And for theirs as well. They intend to announce my betrothal soon.”
His skin, ruddy beneath the dark stubble on his cheeks, paled. I noticed his hands clench slightly, and he blinked several times while glaring not at me, but I thought perhaps on my behalf. “Is that your desire?” he demanded. “To marry an Otleich?”
No one had asked me what I wanted for my life. My parents told me time and again what I could not have. Could not do. Ought not to want. I sniffed hard and tried not to sound petulant. I did not expect anyone to feel sympathy for a woman who had enjoyed a life filled with comforts, luxuries, and ease.
“I say this without an ounce of disrespect,” I said quietly. “The roof over my head, the education—of my parents’ choosing, but I have it nonetheless—my clothing, sufficient meals… Every necessity of life has been provided to me in excess because of my parents’ sacrifices. But there is always a cost, a bill to be paid. In my case, the cost is freedom. Any sense of personal independence. What I desire for my life has never been a consideration. Not for my parents. And until recently, not even for me.”
“What do you want?” he pressed, drawing closer to me. He towered above me. Something between us flowed, thick and slow like honey on a cool morning.
My heartbeat sped up, my thoughts dragged, and every bit of my body from my fingers to toes craved him. Yearned for his closeness, his touch. I may have been able to make fire, but I could not control the heat he aroused in me. Those unstable embers felt more dangerous than any of the real peril we’d been in tonight.
“Pali.” His jaw tensed. “Do your parents know what the Otleiches are?” He looked like he was trying to choose which of his racing thoughts to speak aloud first. He shoved a hand along the top of his head, his endless blue eyes never leaving mine. “They are murderers. Extortionists. Thieves. And not the harmless trifling pickpockets you might keep watch for in the village. These are the most wicked kinds of people. You cannot marry into them. You…you simply cannot.” He stumbled over his words sounding as graceless as I felt.
I ran the tip of my tongue over my dry lips as the pop of a whorl of cedarwood drew my eyes back to the fire. I stared into it, desperate for clarity. For answers. What would I choose if I were free to claim anything I desired? It crushed me to realize I did not know—was uncertain about the demands of my own mind and heart. For a woman who had spent countless hours of her life practicing strategy and considering the consequences of every possible move within the games I played, when it came to my own life, all my confidence abandoned me. I was unprepared—no, worse, completely untrained. And I was being thrust into a game which had only one rule: compliance.
I turned back to the alluring man beside me and admitted the truth. “I must do as my parents require,” I insisted. “I…In this, I truly have no choice.” Overcome by the need to touch him just this once, I shyly reached up and stroked his stubbled cheek. The prickle of hair against my fingertips was deliciously sharp, and sent tingles of pleasure through my body. I pressed my lips together and appealed to his sense of reason. “You work for them now, don’t you? You’re making dice for the tournament. Is that not a kind of marriage? Why do you do it, if you know what they are?”
I was pulling my fingers away from his face when he closed his eyes and took hold of my hands. He brought mine back to his face and held my palms against his skin, a shuddering breath shaking his chest. My blood heated as he rubbed my skin along his cheek, his jaw, until I could feel every puff of air from his lips against the tender flesh of my wrist. The abrasive stubble left behind a delicious, satisfying burn. Such odd contrasts for a man with so much strength. He moved gracefully, had held me with such tenderness, and yet the hand that gripped mine looked strong enough to splinter a block of wood.
“We both have our reasons,” he said cryptically. “My tether to the Otleich family is very thin,” he admitted. “Within my power to break…at almost any moment. There must be a way for you as well.”
I pulled away from his distracting touch and laced my hands together, wishing I had the courage to take what I really wanted from Syndrian. Wishing I had the courage to admit it freely and fully, even just to myself.
“What did you attempt to buy?” he asked, breaking into the fog of my thoughts. “What purchase exhausted your savings?”
I shook my head. I could not tell him. I’d shared too much already. Revealing that I had magic was dangerous enough. If Syndrian were ever to tell anyone, to share what he knew… I’d be killed, but he would be made an example of.
For engaging with those who used magic, Syndrian would be punished severely. The queen or the shire-reeve permitted a slow agony for those accused of consorting with magic. He would be tortured, drawn, and quartered. Thrown to the violent justice of those who feared the monarchy and the local power systems even more than they feared magic and its many mysteries.
My naive heart could not imagine the horrors an angry mob of common folk might concoct. But I had seen and heard enough over the years to refuse to draw this man further into harm. I would not reveal what I’d done with the goblins and drag either of us closer to doom.