Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 4

By the third day of nearly non-stop traveling, cooped up in the carriage without the ability to do much more than light a small flame in her palm, Kindra felt like she would explode any moment. She’d rarely experienced the type of restlessness that could ensue when a Wielder went too long without using their magic. Her life in Harthwin had gifted her with ample free time to explore and develop her abilities. But now she felt like a too-full water-skin, her magic ready to burst at the seams.

In all honesty, the itch to engulf herself in flames had set in the very first night, but she’d hated the thought of having to ask Jasper. Their stops during the day to relieve themselves had been brief, and the guards were so wary of her when they stopped to sleep for the night she was afraid if she wielded without permission they’d try and kill her on the spot. And even with the guards, there was that stubborn pride. She refused to act as though she needed something from them.

But a day and a half later, she would’ve done just about anything to have just a single moment to expend her energy.

“Jasper,” she said, eyes closed, her head resting against the carriage window.

He hummed in response.

“I need—we need—to stop the carriage.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to— need to—light myself on fire.”

“Wha—” Jasper started, and Kindra’s eyes snapped open, her head turning to him. The gold of her eyes glimmered with an intense hunger; her mouth set in a thin line. Jasper shut his mouth and nodded, understanding immediately. “Right. Right. Wielders have to—gods, why didn’t you say something earlier? We would’ve stopped.” He pulled the rope, signaling the carriage to come to a halt.

Heinrich dismounted and hurried over to open the carriage door, a question poised on his lips, but Kindra was already climbing out, tearing her cloak off and tossing it back onto the seat.

“Lady Kindra, what are you—”

“Move,” she snapped, bringing the heat that had been pooling inside her for the past two days to just under her skin. “Don’t come near me unless you want to get burned.” She broke into a run, sprinting until she was a safe enough distance from the traveling party, and then she held out her arms and let herself breathe.

Fire exploded from her palms and snaked quickly up her arms, stopping just past her elbows to avoid burning her sleeves. Kindra’s head rolled back and her eyes closed, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

“How extraordinary,” Jasper’s voice came from behind her. He must’ve approached once the initial burst of fire was over.

Kindra didn’t indicate that she’d heard him; she simply reveled in the familiar warmth of her fire on her skin. It danced and wound around her like a flaming serpent, nibbling up the grass surrounding her. After a few minutes, she felt far more relaxed. Releasing a final deep breath, she reduced the flames to just her hands and turned around to face Jasper.

The look on his face was nothing short of complete wonder. It was almost child-like, so much so that it caught Kindra completely off guard and the flames in her hands flickered unsteadily. “What?”

“I’ve always found Firefuries to be some of the most entrancing Wielders,” he admitted, the awe quickly turning into sheepishness. He paused. “You have an incredible gift.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” she mumbled, the compliment unsettling her further.

“I would love to see what you could do in a battle,” the prince mused, still studying her with that wide-eyed gaze.

Kindra blanched, the thought of her father flashing through her mind. Dead like so many others, forced to defend a royal family that deserved to be punished for its centuries of crimes. “I am no fighter,” she said quickly .

Unfortunately, Jasper caught the lie in an instant. “That’s not what we were told.” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, gray eyes reflecting the fire Kindra still held.

Kindra shook her head, turning away from him once more. “I didn’t have a choice,” she conceded after a moment. A decade’s worth of fights accented with death flashed through her head. Perhaps that was one respite a charmed life in Wendrith could give her, although guilt tugged at her for thinking it. Who would be left to defend her village now that she was gone? Horror pooled in her stomach at the thought. The useless guards, who were more content to drink and play cards than actually defend Harthwin? What could they do, now that they’d spent a decade letting her do their job for them?

The fear channeled itself into rage quickly. Yet another reason to despise Jasper and the royal family and their twisted marriage system. The havoc a group of criminals could wreak upon Harthwin now that she was gone—or, gods forbid, if war finally broke out in full and soldiers from Pryllia showed up, hungry to seek revenge for centuries of brutality and death…

How did word of her even reach Wendrith? She knew she’d had a reputation, those bandits from a few weeks ago confirmed that, but had stories about her really traveled so far?

“We heard that you defended Harthwin single-handedly,” Jasper was saying, “that one time you even fended off a group of ten bandits—”

“And now they will be left defenseless,” Kindra hissed, not bothering to turn and look at him. She feared she might light him aflame if she had to see his face. “You took me, and now they will be left with nothing but drunkards and fools to protect them.” Her fire began to lick its way up her arms again, and she focused on it, shaping it into a sphere that she balanced between her hands.

For once—for once —Jasper had nothing to say. So she pressed on, still not looking at him, still channeling her fury into her ball of fire. “I have killed twenty-four people,” she breathed, and she didn’t have to look back to know that Jasper had just become substantially more afraid of her. She could practically feel the alarm rippling off of him. “Twenty-four people—for them. For Harthwin. For my—my mother. I am twenty-two years old.” She laughed bitterly. “And I have killed more people than there are years I have been alive.” Her stomach turned as the faces of each one flashed through her mind.

“The first time, it was a trio of robbers who had taken to attacking people on the road into the village. People had been asking the guards to do something, but they said it wasn’t within the village limits, that it wasn’t their problem .” The fireball churned, flames stroking her fingertips. “So I went out to deal with it. They weren’t even Wielders. I knew I could scare them off. Even then, I knew what my fire could do.” She paused. Behind her, she didn’t think Jasper was even breathing. “They saw me, and thought I was easy prey. I wasn’t.”

As the memory surged, the fireball began to press at the seams of her control, dripping flames onto the ground. She worked to steady her breathing, forcing it smaller and smaller, until it dissipated entirely. Balancing a single flame on her index finger, she confessed, “I didn’t—I didn’t intend to kill anybody. But I hadn’t ever fought anyone. I’d just practiced on—on trees. The control I thought I had over my magic…it vanished when I was faced with three frightening men. When I was actually fighting against an opponent who wanted to kill me, or worse—” Her voice died for a moment as she remembered their sneering faces, remembered everything about the horrible encounter she wished so desperately to forget. She wasn’t even sure why she was telling Jasper this at all, but some part of her needed him, desperately, to understand.

She continued, “I exploded. Literally. I erupted into a ball of flame. And by the time I had it back under control, they were all horribly burned, and one of them—one of them was just… ash. I had burned him alive.” Finally, she turned to face the prince. His face was pale, and his mouth slightly agape. “The other two fled. I don’t know if they lived or died. I was thirteen,” she finished, and Jasper swore softly.

“I am—I am sorry,” he finally whispered, “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were—”

“What? A murderer?” she sneered, flames dying out at last. “Does that make you want to take me back? Don’t want a killer as your wife?” She waved a hand at the road. “Then by all means, please, take me home.”

“I didn’t know you’d had to be so brave,” Jasper said quickly, and Kindra scoffed, but he continued, “You are incredibly brave. I haven’t even… I’ve never killed anyone before,” he admitted. “I’ve trained my wh ole life, of course, even served time at outposts, but I’ve never had to…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“It is terrible,” Kindra admitted, her voice lacking the ire it had held for him since they first met, “to kill somebody. Even if you are doing it to defend your home. Your family. I remember—I remember each of their faces, and the sounds they made as they died. I remember the-the smell of burnt flesh—” She sucked in a breath, steeling herself once more. “But I would have done it again and again to keep Harthwin safe. I would relive every death a thousand times, justify each one to Morta herself, if it meant my mother could sleep peacefully at night.” Her lip curled, and the hatred seeped back into her words. “And now I shall forever be haunted by the people I have killed, knowing it has probably all been for nothing, since you have forced me into this trap you call a marriage so I can produce children that will be, like every other heir your family produces, completely magic-less .”

Jasper’s eyes flashed, indignance creeping back into his voice. “We don’t know that. You’re one of the most powerful Wielders we’ve discovered in a long time—the first Firefury to marry into our family in decades. You’re certainly stronger than either of my brothers’ wives—”

“It will not work,” she snapped. “It will fail, just as it has for the past century. But you refuse to accept that, and my village will suffer for it.”

“What if I could send some more guards there?” Jasper asked hopefully. It made Kindra want to gag. “I could hand pick them myself. A wedding gift, from the royal family to your village for giving us—”

“I was not an object to be given away!” Kindra shouted, and the guards that had been standing nearby drew their swords or fell into wielding stances. Even Jasper flinched back, body stiffening defensively. She did not back down, but she did her best to keep her fire at bay. “I am not property . I am my own person. I should have been able to choose!” Tears she thought she’d finished crying blurred her vision. “I should have— I should have been able to choose. You took me from them. You took me from my home . This isn’t fair, it’s not fair….” Her voice died as nausea rolled over her, the weight of everything her life was becoming pressing down, sucking the breath from he r—

Firm hands gripped her shoulders. “Calm down, Kindra.” Jasper’s voice was gentle, though she could hardly hear it over the sound of her hyperventilating. “You need to breathe, okay? Here, I’ll do it with you.”

She was vaguely aware of guards closing in, begging the prince to step away lest she explode into flames and cook him where he stood, but Jasper stayed where he was. “Look at me,” he said, and when she didn’t, he lightly grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to. “Look at me,” he repeated, his voice sharpening. Their eyes met, gold clashing against silver. “Good. Now breathe in.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, and Kindra, desperate to get a grip on herself so she wouldn’t set him on fire and get herself killed, did, too. “And out.” He exhaled slowly through his mouth, and she matched him. “Again,” he ordered, voice still soft.

For several moments, they stood there, never breaking eye contact, simply breathing in, and out. Slowly, the inferno raging under Kindra’s skin cooled, and her breathing steadied, her senses returning to her once more. When she felt like she was under control again, she jerked away from him immediately, shame burning her cheeks.

Jasper watched her warily. “I know that this isn’t fair, Kindra,” he said, “but I have little choice in the matter. This is… this is not the life I would have chosen for you, either, if I had been able to do anything about it.” He looked back over his shoulder, at the guards still warily hovering nearby, and then back at her. “I think we should get moving again. We still have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall. But we’ll make time on our stops now for you to expend some of your magic. You have my word.” He dipped his head to her once, and then strode away.

Kindra hurried back to the carriage, climbing inside and moving as far away from where Jasper would sit as she could. When he entered, she pretended to be falling asleep. She did not thank him for helping her calm down, because it was his fault she’d had the panic attack in the first place. And she did not apologize for his hands, which were now wrapped in bandages, having been burned and blistered as he’d held her. She simply closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.

In and out.