Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 23

A gentle hand shook her.

Kindra jolted awake with a start. Jasper was sitting on the sofa, his hand on her shoulder, a soft, tired smile on his face. She scanned him quickly, checking for any bruises. But he was unharmed, physically, at least. As she sat up sleepily, she wondered how long he’d been sitting there, watching her sleep. The thought did not disturb her as much as it once would have.

She looked at the clock. It was just past midnight. “Did you just now get out?”

Jasper nodded. “Yes, it was a long night.” His mouth stretched open in a wide yawn, and he blinked blearily, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

“Yes. Father was—well,” he chuckled drily, “We will get to that in a second. There were bigger problems at tonight’s meeting than us. The Whisperer in Mistbarrow is dead.”

Kindra was suddenly wide awake. “What?”

“She has been for a week now. We didn’t know until tonight—that was what the meeting was for. We were worried they’d started to move, and we would be in the dark until news reached Bridgewood. But we’re lucky—gods, we’re so fucking lucky.”

“So they haven’t attacked yet?” Hope began to bloom in her chest, a fragile, fluttering thing.

Jasper shook his head. “No—and there’s a new Whisperer posted at Mistbarrow now, courtesy of Bridgewood. There are normally three posted there, so they had one they could spare. But, Kindra…” He swallowed thickly. “I am glad that you weren’t there to night. My father was particularly… aggressive. My brothers, too. Threats were made. People were… people were hurt.”

“What do you mean?” Kindra sucked in a nervous breath. “Did he hurt you, Jasper? You told him it was my fault, right?”

Jasper placed a hand over hers. “I assure you, Kindra, I am fine. What occurred between you and Antone was nothing compared to…” He trailed off briefly before continuing. “You know of the Council, I assume, and what their duties are.”

“Vaguely. Tess told me about them.”

“There are six of them. They decide many things together, but each of them individually oversees different parts of the city and kingdom. Councilman Avis—Tess’s… whatever—is the head of Wendrith’s defense, including the Royal and City guard, for example. Councilman Terbis oversees our agriculture and livestock, the food and water supply throughout the kingdom. And Councilman Epira…” He paused, looking pained. “Councilman Epira manages our communication, our trade. His domain is the Hall of Mirrors.”

“He’s in charge of the Whisperers,” Kindra murmured, already sensing where this was headed.

“The Whisperer from Mistbarrow only reports in every few months or if there’s an emergency. And when we heard of the army amassing at the border—well, that’s an emergency. But the Whisperer didn’t send any message. And instead of finding that strange or concerning, Councilman Epira did nothing.”

“He didn’t think anything of it? He didn’t try to reach her?”

Jasper shook his head. “No, he did not. He was as shocked as the rest of us at the news. And to be the one person who should have already known—who could have prevented the chaos that was tonight, or at least lessened it—that’s not something that sits well with my father.”

Kindra couldn’t say she blamed King Leofric for being angry. “What did he do?”

“Accused Epira of disloyalty, of working with Pryllia. Screamed at him for failing to do his job. And then he smashed a wine bottle over his head.”

Alarm shot through her. “Gods, did he kill him?” She was glad now that she hadn’t been there .

“No, but I’m sure Epira wishes he had.” He looked away, to the fire still burning in the fireplace. “You know, my grandfather, Peter Annalindis, was ruling when it became public that the curse did indeed exist. We’d done a good job of keeping it secret. We stopped fighting wars, stopped murdering everyone who stood in our way. My great and great-great grandparents paid millions to all the kingdoms we’d terrorized for centuries. They hoped it would be enough to atone for all we’d done, to keep them from coming for revenge, exposing that we were no longer blessed with the power of a god.” He chuckled darkly. “But the kingdoms wanted their land back. And of course, we said no. I always thought that was strange—my family acts like we did such a good deed, but we didn’t give back anything we took from them, not really. No way for us to bring back the millions of people our armies have killed. And the one thing we could give back—their lands—we wouldn’t do.”

He sighed. “I mean, logistically, the argument my family made to keep it made sense, I guess. A lot of that land has been ours for centuries. There are generations of Alverinian families settled there. Some of it is only developed because of us. But… I understand why the other kingdoms wanted it back. And I understand why our refusal would make any amount of financial gift or trade deal basically worthless in the eyes of people we’ve destroyed and stolen from time and time again.”

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, all that to say, my grandfather became fearful and mistrustful once it became public knowledge that we were cursed, and my father has followed in his footsteps. Especially over the last several years, as tensions have started rising again. We did a lot of damage to our neighbors, and a big part of that was making them almost entirely dependent upon us for a lot of resources. They’ve had to work furtively in preparing for this. And my father has always been worried about a war that we don’t see coming. He has talked about it all my life. So Epira has no excuse for his lack of awareness. It’s just pure Alverin arrogance. But my father has never believed, for one second, that this kingdom is safe.”

“I suppose that’s good, at least, that he doesn’t think we are invincible, like some of the others in the War Chamber,” Kindra tried weakly, but Jasper just shook his head.

“He still thinks we’re superior to all of them. He doesn’t think we have anything to apologize for. He’s the one who stopped the yearly payments to our neighbors, the second after his coronation. He’s shrunk trade agreements, shattered any relationships we were developing with other leaders—which were tentative in the first place. He’s practically invited them to do this. He wants them to because he dreams of being the king that leads Alverin back into war and re-establishes us as the most powerful kingdom on the continent.”

“And when those around him are foolish…”

“That hurts his chances of victory,” Jasper finished, and smiled sadly. “We really are terrible.”

“You’re not.” The words were like a reflex.

He met her eyes, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Her cheeks heated as she recalled the last time they’d looked at each other so intensely. He swallowed, and she knew that he was thinking about it, too. “I’m glad you think that,” he murmured. Their knees were touching.

Kindra’s skin itched, the way it always did under the heat of his gaze. She looked away. “So, what is the plan now?”

Jasper leaned back into the sofa, his leg still pressed against hers. “A pretty sizable chunk of our army is on the way to the Pryllian border now. Should be there within the next week.”

“Did you… did he say anything? About me getting to come?”

“Oh, yes.” Jasper smiled. “He said it would be unprecedented for you to attend.”

“Why are you smiling?” Kindra asked. “Isn’t that basically a no?”

He shot her a smirk. “When Antone told him about what had happened—quite dramatically, I’ll say—he expected for you to be barred from all future meetings, and probably me as well, for good measure. But that didn’t happen. Honestly, my father seemed kind of pleased to hear about it.” He laughed softly. “All he said was that comment about it being unprecedented and moved on. Antone was furious.” He grew serious again. “My father never dances around what he means unless he wants to. If he wanted to say no, he would have.”

“I have to prove to him that I should be in there,” she said, understanding. Jasper nodded. Determination settled over her. “So I’ll prove it to him. ”

He reached over and grabbed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. She both cherished and despised the comfort it brought her. “I have no doubt that you will,” he replied, a gentle smile blooming on his lips.

And they were back to staring at each other again.

“I’m glad we’re friends again,” Kindra blurted, unable to peel her eyes away from his.

Jasper laughed breathily. “So am I, Kindra.”

Just like before, that heated, fragile tension was building between them. As if pulled by some invisible force, she found herself leaning towards him, the blanket falling down to gather at her waist. His eyes darted from hers, briefly, dancing over her shoulders and chest, left exposed by her nightgown. He inhaled sharply. When he looked back up, his gray gaze burned like molten steel.

“You are more beautiful than I ever dreamed you would be,” he breathed, and his words wrapped around her like an embrace. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t,” she agreed, even as she moved closer and closer to him. Despite everything that had happened today, it was just one day. It mattered so little in the grand scheme of things.

Jasper blinked, surprised by her honesty. She smiled, feeling bold, and reached up to lightly touch his lips with her fingers. “Not yet, at least,” she finished, reveling in how still he was beneath her touch, the slight tickle of his breath against her fingertips.

“Becoming worthy of you will be of utmost importance for me, Your Highness.” His mouth brushed her fingers with every word. The sensual use of her future title sent a zap of lightning down her spine.

“I look forward to seeing you endeavor to do so.” Oh, how she was starting to enjoy this little game they played, this dangerous line they both seemed to love almost crossing.

“I’m sure you do.” Jasper grabbed her hand, pulling it from his mouth and to the side, exposing the underside of her wrist. He placed a soft kiss there. Kindra could have ignited.

His eyes danced with a challenge. She saw plainly what he wanted—what she wanted, too. And perhaps, if things were different; if she were here with him of her own accord, if he had not made her cry just days ago, if they were different people, she would have given it to him at that moment.

But things weren’t different. And though it was all better than she expected—the castle, many of the people, and, shockingly, him—it still was a situation that made her sick when she thought about it too much.

He sensed the shift in her, the walls going back up. Delicately, he set her hand down. “You should get some rest,” he said, giving her other hand one final squeeze before unlacing his fingers from hers. She tugged the blanket back up around herself. “The guards are gone, by the way,” he added. “King’s orders.”

He left her on the couch after placing a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, leaving her to stew about just what she was getting into with him before drifting back to sleep in front of the dying fire.