Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 30

An hour and a half later, Kindra was traveling in a carriage through the streets of Wendrith with Jasper, Helena, Emeline, and a whole squadron of guards. Sala and Cerulle had transformed her in record time, dressing her in a burnt-orange gown with billowing sleeves and leaf embroidery to match Jasper’s jacket. They’d twisted her hair up into a bun, decorating it with leaf pins. Her eyelids had been brushed with kohl, her lips painted a soft red.

They were headed to the Harvest Festival. It was a three-day long event dedicated to celebrating the bountiful crops that would feed them through the winter, as well as honoring all sorts of deities, from Aspa to Yvangil to Cyrie. The whole city was decorated for it, adorned in banners and streamers in autumnal colors, but the real celebration occurred in the market district, where farmers and vendors set up stalls to sell their goods and people gathered to eat, drink and dance.

Kindra’s whole body thrummed with a mix of nervousness and excitement. This would be her first time interacting with the people of Wendrith. She knew Jasper was beloved by the civilians here; she’d heard many stories of his time spent walking, talking and drinking among them. She hoped desperately they approved of her.

As they neared the market district, the streets became more crowded, though crowds were quick to clear the way for them. Cheers started up as more people saw the royal insignia on the side of the carriage and the black and gold uniforms marking the members of the Royal Guard.

Finally, the entourage came to a place where the throngs of people were so dense their party could move no further. Heinrich opened the carriage door. Helena and Emeline exited first.

The people were joyous, shouting and cheering for their princesses. The couple smiled and waved, stepping down to the ground. People tossed them flowers, streamers, bouquets of autumn leaves. Emeline, glowing in a yellow gown, draped a streamer over Helena’s shoulders, presenting her with some of the flowers and placing a kiss upon her cheek. The roaring grew.

Then Jasper stepped from the carriage.

Kindra thought they had been excited for Helena and Emeline, but when the prince emerged, the cheers were nearly deafening.

Jasper, ever the charismatic prince they knew him to be, waved and smiled and accepted flowers. He held up his hand, calling wordlessly for quiet, and within seconds, the street was near-silent.

“My friends, I have someone very special for you to meet today,” he announced. The air became thick with anticipation.

He held his hand out to her, the signal to come out, and he spoke again as she moved to exit. “I’d like to introduce you to Lady Kindra Bedelyn of Harthwin, my betrothed!”

As she reached out of the carriage, taking his hand and stepping down to join him, the people of Wendrith erupted once more. She smiled, bashful and overwhelmed by their response. Awkwardly, she waved, which only made them more excited.

Staring out into the crowd, she knew the moment they realized she was a Firefury, the second the gold of her eyes registered.

And she saw the fervent hope unfold across all of their faces.

“She’s a Firefury!”

“Alverin is saved!”

“ Cursebreaker! ”

She did her best to keep smiling, but her stomach turned and she felt her hand grow sweaty against Jasper’s cool palm. He raised it to his lips, kissing it, much to the thrill of their audience. His eyes met hers, and he murmured, just for her ears, “It’ll be okay. They’re just excited.”

Then he turned back to the people. “Let us celebrate with you today! Give Lady Bedelyn a proper Wendrith welcome! ”

More applause, more cheers, and then he was looping his arm through hers. Helena latched on to her other side, and then the four of them, their guards following very closely behind, were swallowed up into the crowd.

Not much later, Kindra was feeling much more at ease.

That was partly—or mostly—due to the fact that the first thing Jasper did was make a beeline for a tavern, where he purchased a large mug of ale for each of them. Kindra, having never had it, gagged and sputtered after her first sip, which sent her three companions into a fit of laughter.

“Come now, Kindra, you don’t want to insult the brewer!” Emeline chuckled, and Kindra frowned. No, she supposed she didn’t. So she gathered her courage and drank the rest of it over the next half hour as they chatted with citizens who’d flocked around them. Jasper, Emeline and Helena were extremely good at interacting with the citizens, she learned very quickly, but each in their own way. Helena had benevolence, Emeline had humor, and Jasper had charm.

And she had awkwardness.

She did her best to answer all the questions, to speak with everyone who wished to speak to her. They asked her about her family, about Harthwin, about her training. When she answered honestly that no, she’d had no formal training, most reacted with awe, but some had been bitter.

“I know a Firefury who’s currently studying at Grydmarth, top ten of her class,” one older man had remarked, bedecked in finery that marked him as wealthy, but not of noble rank. “I can’t imagine why the king would select you over her—I mean no offense.”

At this, Emeline had leaned over. “Kindra had been single-handedly defending her village from threats since before that Firefury could wield more than a torch’s worth of fire. But considering you’re not ever invited to court, you wouldn’t know this, would you?” She grinned venomously. “I mean no offense, of course.”

Huffing, the man had lurched away, and Emeline had merely shrugged, taking another drink. “He had it coming.”

Now, feeling much more relaxed—and much gigglier—she leaned into Jasper’s side as they walked from the tavern into the heart of the market district: a giant city square, complete with a fountain in the center. Stalls with vendors selling everything from hot food to wood carvings lined the perimeter. Tables and chairs had been set up, along with a small stage where a quartet of musicians were playing bouncy, lively jigs and beloved folk songs. Children and adults alike were dancing in front of them.

They stopped at several of the stalls, buying various snacks and trinkets. Kindra devoured a skewer of seared chicken and vegetables. Jasper bought her a necklace from a jeweler; it was a simple carnelian pendant on a gold chain that he fastened around her neck immediately. Alcohol made her bold, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks, much to the delight of onlookers. Jasper blushed a deep scarlet and didn’t stop smiling for several minutes.

Across the square, near the stage of musicians, was a cart laden with differently shaped and colored tubes. “What are those?” she asked, pointing.

“They’re firecrackers,” Helena told her. “You light their fuse, and they shoot into the sky and explode into different colored fire.”

“They’re one of the latest inventions out of Laoruwen,” Emeline added. “Loud as shit, but delightfully fun.”

The cart was operated by a tall, well-built man clad in black. He studied the four of them, as if he could hear every word they were saying about his goods despite them being across the square.

Jasper tugged at her, his arm draped around her waist. “Let’s dance,” he murmured into her ear, his speech slightly slurred from his three ales. Kindra couldn’t say she was much better off. Her response was to simply laugh and wrap her arms around his middle, her attention pulled away from the man and his firecracker cart. Jasper smiled and nuzzled into her neck. She sucked in a breath, her nerves singing as though she’d been struck by lightning. The people observing them cheered at their public display of affection, and even in her inebriated state she knew the whole city would be talking about them tomorrow. A true love match, she’d already overheard some calling them.

She told herself that if she wasn’t drunk she’d be more upset about that.

“Gods above, they can’t keep their hands off each other,” Emeline giggled. Helena swatted playfully at her. She was the only one of them who remained even slightly poised, although her cheeks were flushed .

Jasper pulled her towards the stage, and the people dancing parted to make space for them. Several children spun towards them, and before Kindra could do anything, tiny hands were clasping hers, and she was being pulled away from Jasper.

Laughing, she went along with it, copying their steps as best she could. She knew some of the traditional line and group dances; she’d been to a few festivals in Mistbarrow before, and even Harthwin had its own small but lively Solstice celebrations, so she picked up the dance quickly.

She felt Jasper’s presence before she saw him and then there he was, dancing alongside her. The children squealed with delight. The song ended, and they stopped to applaud. Kindra caught her breath, her brow damp with sweat, stray curls sticking to her forehead.

One of the musicians—a fiddle player—announced their next song would be a traditional love ballad. “In honor of His Highness Prince Jasper and Lady Kindra,” he said. “May your union be blessed.”

Jasper gathered Kindra in his arms and began to guide them in a dance she didn’t know. It was slower, some type of waltz. Clumsily, she did her best to keep up with the steps. Every few beats she’d misstep or step on one of his feet, and soon the two of them were giggling messes, foreheads pressed together as they spun around.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “very much so. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“They love you already.” He pulled her closer to him. “I knew they would.”

At some point, they’d stopped dancing, completely entranced by one another. Kindra was only vaguely aware of the people still moving around them, the dozens of eyes watching their every breath.

She looked past his shoulder for a moment. The man at the firecracker cart was staring at her, and even from yards away she could feel the intensity of his gaze. It made her slightly uncomfortable, taking her out of the moment with Jasper.

“Something is wrong with that man with the firecrackers,” she murmured through a tight smile. “He’s looking at me strangely.”

“What do you mean?” Jasper started to turn around, but she stopped him, holding him firmly in place, though to everyone else it just looked like an embrace .

She shot another quick glance at the man. He was no longer looking at her, instead fiddling with something on his cart. She shook her head. “Never mind. I think I’m just a little drunk.” She laughed, but the uneasy feeling remained, even as she and Jasper began to dance again, this time to a fast tune that had him spinning her in circles.

When that song ended and she regained her center of balance, she risked another look at the cart.

The man was gone.

“Where did he—” Kindra twisted around, head still spinning, skin prickling with the feeling that something was very, very wrong. Her magic kicked at her senses.

“Kindra?” Jasper grasped at her. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t—something is wrong—the man—”

The next three things happened all at once.

First, Kindra spotted Tess across the square, running towards them at full speed, a wild panic she’d never seen before on the guardswoman’s face.

Second, she felt a massive swell of flames, so large it nearly overwhelmed her.

And third, the firecracker cart exploded.