Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 21

Jasper finally showed himself that evening.

Kindra was hunched over her trunk of belongings from Harthwin, finally unpacking it, when the knock came. She knew in her gut that it was him even before she opened the door and saw him standing there.

He was holding a bouquet of flowers. It, along with his sheepish posture and expression, caused her stomach to flip with something between fear and excitement.

“May I come in?” he asked, eyes scanning her nervously.

She sighed, schooling her expression into one of indifference. “I guess.” She stepped aside, waving him in. Cerulle, who was sitting outside the door, met her eyes and nodded slightly, reassuring Kindra that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Kindra turned and walked back to her trunk, returning to her task. She tried to slow her pounding heart as she heard the door shut gently behind Jasper as he entered.

“I brought you flowers,” he said, rather pathetically.

“Okay,” she responded, not turning to look at him. She pulled out a stack of books—her favorite stories, the leather spines cracked and worn from years of love.

“Um, okay,” Jasper stammered, clearly having expected different behavior from her. “I wanted to apologize. For what I said.”

“Okay,” Kindra repeated. There was silence. She stopped her unpacking with a sigh and looked up at him. “Well?”

His eyes widened. “I thought you’d be a lot… I thought you’d be different, than this. I had a wh ole speech prepared—”

“Ah, yes, one of your infamous rehearsed spiels meant to placate me,” she snipped, unable to help herself. But then she took a deep breath, reigning herself in. Grace, Kindra. Understanding. “Just, out with it. I’m tired of this.”

“Tired of what?”

Tired of not knowing where we stand. Tired of being afraid you may have turned your back on me. Tired of feeling torn between hating you and wanting to be near you.

“Tired of fighting,” she said, voice heavy.

“Gods, me too.” He kneeled down beside her, still clutching the flowers. “I’m really sorry, Kindra. It was cruel of me to bring up Harthwin.”

She said nothing, only watched him. When he realized she wasn’t going to reply, he continued, “I know that I’ve said and done some pretty shitty things to you, and I’m not considering how that has affected you, even with my apologies and attempts to mend things after. I get… frustrated when you don’t see my good intentions—because they are good, Kindra, please believe me on that, even if my delivery isn’t always the best.”

He looked down, cheeks flushed with shame. “The truth is that I was jealous. I am jealous. I’m jealous of how easily you can speak your mind and how unafraid you are to protect those around you. It’s like second nature to you. But instead of telling you how good it felt to see you hold your ground against my brothers, I let my insecurity take over. I lashed out, and I tried to make you hurt like I hurt. Because you’re right—I am small, when they’re around. And in that moment I just wanted you to feel small, too.”

He blinked rapidly, his gray eyes rimmed with silver. “I really want you to be happy, despite everything that stands in the way of that. And I know,” he took a deep breath, “that I am one of those obstacles. I know that you would rather be anywhere but here with me. I have to accept that. And maybe the only way for you to have a shot at being happy here is if I stay out of your way as much as possible, so I have fewer chances to put my foot in my mouth and say something utterly ridiculous that hurts you.” A beat, then, “That wasn’t really what I’d planned to say, in case you’re wondering.”

The rawness in his voice stirred a deep ache in her. And she realized then that she didn’t want him to stay away from her, that the anxiety she’d felt over the last few days had not only been because of the unresolved anger between them, but also because she had grown used to his presence. She had, despite everything, come to find some sort of comfort in it.

She had missed him.

“I don’t want you to stay away from me,” she said roughly, and shock flashed across his face. She swallowed thickly, surprised to find she was fighting back tears, too. Gods, what is happening to me?

“Oh,” was all Jasper could say.

“You just have to be more careful. And,” Kindra paused, choking down her stupid pride, because it was her turn to apologize now, “I have to be more careful, too. I’m sorry for what I said. Truly.” His eyes widened; he clearly was not expecting an apology from her, and that actually made her feel worse. “I just—I’ve been having a hard time adjusting to all of this. And I am angry about it still, but I know there’s nothing I can do to change it… so…” She gave a small half-smile. “There’s no point in wishing for something else. I am stuck with you. You’re stuck with me.”

She looked down at her hands, still resting on the rim of her trunk. “I don’t think I’d be any happier here if we were estranged. I’d rather… I’d rather figure out how to lo—” She stopped short, rapidly correcting herself, “like you. And at least be amicable towards one another.”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, that’s what I want, too. More than anything.”

“I just can’t do the back and forth anymore, Jasper. I can’t keep bouncing between liking you and cursing your name. It’s exhausting.”

His lips twitched in a slight smirk. “But you like me?”

She scowled, but she was fighting back a grin. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

His smirk vanished and he reached out to grab her hands, dropping the flowers on the floor. Her cheeks flushed with heat at the contact. “I do know what you mean. I’m so tired of it, too. I’m used to feeling like I’m just shouting into an abyss.” He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “But you’re not an abyss,” he murmured, a strange, almost reverent look on his face.

“Obviously not,” she tried to joke, but her heart was in her throat and she was very aware of the sparks his touch was leaving in its wake. “I thought I’d scared you away,” she whispered, needing to voice her fears, for him to chase them away .

His brow furrowed. “Oh Kindra, you could never scare me away.” His hand came to cup her face, his other still clutching her own. “Even at your angriest, I still find you beautiful.” He said it softly, more to himself than her, like it was some new realization that was just now hitting him.

Kindra’s head began to spin with the closeness of him. She might have been shaking.

In that moment, she both wanted him to kiss her and to be as far from her as possible.

“Why did it take so long? For you to come back to me?” It was a miracle she could even speak. Her voice was a breathy, tattered thing. Everything about this was too much. His proximity, his openness, his touch. The way he looked at her. The way she craved and hated all of it at the same time. “It’s been days .” A mere week, and yet it had felt as long as a year to her.

“I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me. I wanted to give you space. And… I wanted to make sure I had sorted myself out enough to not fuck up again when trying to apologize.” They were locked in a staring contest, neither of them looking away. His thumb brushed softly against her lower lip. She worried her heart might explode. Stop touching me. Keep touching me. Kiss me. Get away from me. Do it again. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. “Do you forgive me?” He leaned closer, his nose nearly brushing hers.

“I’ll have to think about it,” she breathed, her lips brushing against his thumb as she spoke and sending a shock down her spine. “I haven’t decided.” Her hand, seemingly of a mind of its own, came up to rest on his chest, lightly clutching his collar.

“Mm,” he murmured, breaking eye contact to stare intensely at her mouth. “Well, do let me know what your verdict is, Your Highness.”

“Do you forgive me?” She had to know. She had to.

Jasper’s lips quirked up in a soft smile. “Kindra, I forgave you before I even left your rooms.”

Gods.

The small space between them was stretched tight with anticipation. For a second, Jasper looked as if he really might do it: close the gap between them and press his mouth to hers. And in that fleeting second, Kindra wanted him to, all doubts and frustrations aside .

But then she came back to her senses. His remorse was genuine; she knew that. But the words he’d said in his anger still smarted whenever she thought of them.

Plus, a small part of her hated to think that she’d be placated this easily. Could this be all it would take for her to forgive him—to allow him to touch her this way?

She pulled back, clearing her throat awkwardly. Jasper pulled away, too, looking down at his now empty hands. He looked embarrassed; she knew that she wore a similar expression.

“I’m sorry,” she started, wanting him to understand, somehow. “I just—I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” he assured her quickly. “I don’t have any expectations from you, not like that.”

Kindra opened her mouth to say something more but thought better of it. Jasper, looking desperate to change the subject, glanced at her half-empty trunk. “What’s in there?”

She latched onto the subject change like a lifeline. “Things from Harthwin,” she explained. “Though none of it really fits in here.” She ran her hand over a thread-bare blanket: it had been hers since she was born. “I don’t even know where to put it all. It sticks out like a sore thumb against all this luxury.”

Jasper smiled softly. “I have one of those, too,” he confessed, nodding to the blanket. “I couldn’t sleep without it until I was fourteen.” At her surprised expression, he held his hands up defensively. “I know it’s embarrassing, but it was comforting to me.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” she replied, gently taking hers out of the trunk and setting it on her bed. “I used to go everywhere with mine. Couldn’t let go of it. My mother finally got me to stop taking it out in public when I was eight, but I still carried it all around the cottage with me until I was twelve or so.” She paused. “I kind of stopped needing it, after I started…”

“Yeah, I understand.” Kindra knew his interruption was an act of mercy; she was grateful for it. “Mine is still in my room. I’ll show it to you, when you—” He cut himself off. “Um, I mean—never mind.” His eyes moved to Elric’s dagger, the one thing she’d left untouched. It still hurt too much. “Wow, that’s a beautiful dagger.” He reached for it, then hesitated. “Can I? ”

She nodded mutely, her eyes stinging slightly. “Elric gave it to me before I left,” she told him numbly. Before I knew he’d betrayed me. But the thought lacked its old malice.

Jasper turned the dagger over in his hands, marveling at the engravings and fine metalwork. Suddenly, he brought it closer to his face, thumb pressing down on a fiery sun. The sun sank in and released a tube from the hilt of the dagger.

“What?” Kindra leaned in too, curiosity getting the better of her. “What is that?”

“I think,” he mused, “that it’s a container for something.” He looked at her, gray eyes sparking with excitement, and scrambled to his feet. He ran over to the lamp on her nightstand.

“Jasper, what are you doing?” She got up and followed him, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I think it’s supposed to hold oil!” He blew out the flame, and carefully removed the oil bowl. “Gods, this is going to be so remarkable if I’m right, Kindra.”

Slowly, he poured some of the liquid into the tube, then slid it back into the dagger’s hilt. Then he grabbed her hand and dragged her out onto her balcony.

“I’m still not really sure what’s going on,” Kindra said, as he held the dagger by the hilt so it was facing down.

He held up a finger. “Watch. The oil is slowly coating the blade.” He was practically radiating with energy; she was seeing a whole new side of him. Sure enough, the blade was taking on a slight sheen as the oil drizzled down it—not too much, but just enough to make it slick and shiny.

Jasper laughed, amazed. “Here.” He reached for her hand again, and she let him take it, and he placed the dagger in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it. “Now, use your magic and ignite it.”

Kindra did as he requested, sending a small burst of flame from her hand and down the hilt of the dagger. Immediately, the blade caught fire. Hesitantly, she let go of her control over the flames, and the dagger continued to burn. A smile sprung to her face unwittingly. She latched onto the fire once more, honing its shape into something precise and sharp.

“Amazing,” Jasper remarked softly. She turned to look at him, and they beamed at each other, the thrill of their discovery melting away any last bit of tension that remained between them from the last few days. “He designed this weapon specifically with your magic in mind.”

She didn’t respond, partially because the thought of Elric painstakingly crafting something for her made her throat tight. But she was also too transfixed by her dagger to reply. Hesitantly, she swung it, as if she were facing an enemy. A lot of concentration was required to keep the flames in the shape she’d wanted; it was far easier to let the oil do the job of maintaining the fire. Then, with a pinch of giddiness, an idea formed in her head. She knew it wouldn’t be possible for more than a moment or two, but she wanted to try it.

She formed the flames into a long, narrow shape, spilling off the end of the dagger. Then, she swung the dagger, putting all her energy into keeping that fiery thread, and it snapped in the direction of her swing like—

“A whip,” Jasper blurted, bouncing up and down on his feet like an excited child. He was a true scholar, thrilled by innovation and creativity. “A fire whip!”

Her head ached slightly at the force of her focus, and she relaxed, allowing the flames to recede back to their natural shape along the blade. “It’s hard,” she commented, “to make it hold its shape and use it at the same time. It would take a lot of practice to master it.”

“Imagine a sword like this,” Jasper gushed, “Built for a Firefury such as you, so you can fight with something other than your magic.”

“I don’t want to fight with something other than my magic,” she said quickly, feeling anxious at the thought.

“Well, of course not. I suppose you’d still be using it, to shape the flames on the sword as you wish—”

“I’m fine with just my magic,” she insisted, rather petulantly. “I don’t need a sword, or a whip, or—this.” She extinguished the flaming dagger with a single breath, and handed it back to Jasper, who regarded her warily. She knew he was considering his every word.

“It’s still incredible, though.” He turned the dagger in his hands, carefully avoiding the blade, which was still hot. “This Elric fellow is quite impressive.”

Kindra merely grunted in response, striding off the balcony back into her rooms. Jasper followed. Cautiously, he said, “I think you should consider it—using this. Learning how to work it into your wielding. I’m not telling you what to do,” he added quickly as she turned to shoot him a glare, “I am just making a suggestion. For no reason, frankly, other than my own curiosity.”

She looked at the dagger again, held delicately in his hands. “I do not need the help of weapons,” she muttered. “I am one.”

His eyes widened. “I don’t dare suggest you need help, Kindra,” he said soothingly. “I just—” He stopped himself, started again, “If I had magic, I would—gods, the things I would try! I would experiment with every possible way to enhance my wielding. I would spend hours figuring out all the possibilities, because it seems, from an outside perspective, that they are endless . There is always more being discovered. And I just wish I could take part in it myself, really. So I just think you should think about it. That’s all.”

She studied him for a moment, taking in the passion—and envy and grief—on his face. “You want to have magic so you can… do experiments?”

Jasper blushed. “Well, that’s not the only reason.” He shrugged. “That wasn’t a very Annalindis answer of me, was it?”

Kindra shook her head. “Not exactly what I expected, no.”

“Oh, then let me try again.” He cleared his throat, then declared, taking on the stern, cold tone of his father, “If I had magic, I would use it to raze my enemies to the ground, and then I would dance upon their ashen remains!” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that better?”

The laugh was rolling out of her before she could stop it. But it was real—not the half chuckle she’d given him on the carriage ride through Wendrith, but a real, full laugh. Jasper seemed completely shocked by it, which only made her laugh harder. Then he broke into a broad grin, his cheeks dimpling, and he laughed too.

They were still chuckling when there was a knock on the door, and it opened a moment later to reveal a pair of guards—Jasper’s, if she recognized them correctly.

“Your Highness,” one of them said, “you are needed in the War Chamber.” What a ridiculously ominous name for a room, Kindra thought.

But Jasper went stiff at her side immediately, all humor vanishing. “What’s going on? ”

The guard’s eyes slid to her, narrowing slightly. They were green like chips of emerald. “There’s been a development. You are to come immediately.”

“Is it Pryllia? Have they made their move?” Kindra asked nervously.

The guard regarded her coldly. “Respectfully, this is not of your concern, Lady Kindra.”

She bristled, and Jasper did as well. “She is to know of any new development along the Pryllian border, Tomas,” Jasper snapped, and she was stunned by the bite in his voice.

“I need to be there,” she insisted, a thousand scenarios running through her head, each one more horrible than the last. Her breathing hitched. Jasper grabbed her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Tomas shook his head, still not budging. “She is not permitted—”

“Where are you from, Tomas?” she asked sharply.

Tomas blinked. “I’m from here, Lady Kindra.”

“In that case,” she snapped, “you don’t know how it feels to be hundreds of miles away from your home when an army could be marching towards it.”

She took a step towards the door. When the other guard moved to block her path, she shot her a scorching glare that had her halting mid-step. “I’m going to the damn meeting. They’ll have to slam the door in my face to keep me out.”

The two guards blinked, clearly at a loss for what to do. Jasper waved at the door. “Well, are you taking us to the War Chamber or not?” A tiny thrill zipped through Kindra at his demanding tone.

Tomas stammered, then sighed. “Yes, fine. But,” He gave Kindra a hard look, “I am not going to take the blame when this goes poorly.”

“This is entirely my idea,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t want you to take responsibility for it.” Though she was doing her best to seem confident, anxiety was pooling in her gut. Surely, they’d let her in. It was her home. They wouldn’t bar her from a meeting about her home, would they?

Tomas relaxed a bit at her reassurance and fell into position in front of them alongside the other guard.

Quickly, they led them out of her rooms and down to the War Chamber. The walk there was tense and silent, which did nothing to quell her worries. Though Jasper’s hand was steady in her own, his palm was growing sweaty, and one glance at him out of the corner of her eye revealed that he was starting to look very nervous. She didn’t want to know if it was about the meeting itself or trying to get her in.

Finally, after descending several flights of stairs and winding through corridors, they rounded a corner to see the entrance to the War Chamber. Kindra sucked in a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” she murmured as they approached the door, and one of the guards posted by it slipped in, likely to alert those inside of their arrival.

They were going to let her in. They had to.

The door swung open. Kindra readied herself for whatever was coming: be it the king’s acceptance or his wrath.

But it wasn’t the king that stormed out to meet them.

It was Antone.

“You are out of your fucking minds,” the crown prince snarled as he stalked towards them. If looks could kill, she and Jasper would both be dead. “Who gave you the fucking right —”

“It’s her home, Antone,” Jasper argued, voice wavering only slightly.

“Oh, was this your idea of a romantic gesture?” Antone sneered. “Bring her to a highly confidential meeting?” He grabbed a fistful of Jasper’s collar, jerking his brother out of her grip and shoving him against the wall. The guards watched, faces impassive, like they’d seen this a million times. “I should break your nose for your presumptuousness.”

Kindra started, her fingertips sparking. “Let go of him,” she demanded.

“Is she your guard dog, little brother?” Antone hissed down at Jasper, who glared at him with hateful eyes. “Still haven’t learned how to stick up for yourself, have you?” Jasper pushed back at him, and he relented, releasing him and turning his spiteful gaze on Kindra. His lip curled. “You are not permitted in the War Chamber.”

“Why not?” she shot back, her anger threatening to get the better of her. “You’re talking about my home in there!”

“We’re talking about a lot of people’s homes in there,” Antone retorted, “but you don’t see all of Mistbarrow breaking down the door.”

“They’re not here . I am. I can advocate for them— ”

“We do not need your fucking advocacy , or whatever you want to believe your self-righteous bullshit is,” he spat. He pointed down the hallway, away from the War Chamber. “Go back to your rooms. Let us handle this.”

“Oh, because you’ve handled it so well so far?”

Antone was suddenly mere inches from her. She felt his hot breath on her face, and it took everything in her not to flinch away. “Let me make myself very fucking clear: you are not yet a princess. You do not officially hold any title. This tantrum you’re throwing would get any other person thrown in the dungeons. But because our King, for whatever reason, is interested in you, I will not give that order.”

Jasper tried to interject, yanking on Antone’s arm, and the crown prince spun on his brother. “And you ,” His voice began to climb into a yell, “who’s only here because Father requested it, not because you have any military experience to warrant it, have the fucking gall to bring your betrothed—who has no experience, no rank, no permissions, nothing !—to an emergency meeting that only the highest-ranking among us are called to? Are you fucking insane ?”

Kindra began to realize that she’d made a grave misstep. This had been a bad idea. Tomas had been right to try and dissuade her. She’d thought, foolishly, that when she’d won her little face-off with Antone at dinner a few weeks ago she’d quieted him for good.

But Antone was still the crown prince, the next King of Alverin. Losing one small argument to her was not going to make him relinquish his authority.

“Antone, she just wanted to know if anything was going to impact her home. Can you understand that?” Jasper all but pleaded.

Antone scoffed. “You know, the one thing you’ve always had going for you is that you’re smart, Jasper. But this is just moronic. Why would you throw all common sense and regulation out of the window because some woman asks you to?” He took a deep, stabilizing breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

When he spoke again, his voice was deadly calm. “It does not matter that it’s her home. She has to be granted entry into these meetings by the king—and that is not going to happen today.”

“I’m the cursebreaker—” she started, using her last possible card, and Antone laughed bitterly.

“Don’t bother.” He leaned in close to her again, and whispered, “We both know you won’t be breaking any fucking curses.”

She recoiled, shocked speechless that he’d say that so freely. Antone pulled back, smirking.

“Guards,” he ordered, “escort our cursebreaker back to her rooms, and ensure that she stays there. Give her a book to read or something. And Jasper,” he barked, “make your way into the War Chamber. Father will be here shortly.” His lips curved in a wicked smile. “I can’t wait to see what he says about this debacle. You should just be grateful he wasn’t here to witness it.” He turned on his heel and strode back to the War Chamber, not looking to see if Jasper was following.

The guards started to walk towards her, and when she took a step after Antone, angry that he was getting the last word, they blocked her path. Unlike Jasper’s guards, they were not cowed by her burning gaze. One of them was even a Firefury, and his gleaming yellow eyes never left her.

“Kindra, I’m sorry,” Jasper apologized, defeated. “I thought—”

“It’s okay,” she said, still glaring after Antone. “It was my idea. I should’ve known better.”

One of the guards—the Firefury—gently took her by the arm, and she jerked away. “Do not touch me,” she snapped, “I can walk myself back.” Mercifully, the guard didn’t try again. She faced Jasper. “I’m sorry if this gets you into any trouble. Tell them it was all my idea; that I forced you into it or something. I don’t—” she swallowed, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

He smiled at her, but it wasn’t reassuring. “It’s nothing I won’t be able to handle.”

“ Jasper !” Antone thundered from the War Chamber.

Her betrothed looked over his shoulder at the room. The guards began walking forward, slowly guiding Kindra away. “I’ll come, after it’s over,” Jasper promised, and when Antone yelled again, he turned and walked quickly into the War Chamber, the door slamming closed behind him.