Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 51

After the walk, Kindra and Jasper returned to the castle, where a luncheon had been prepared. The newlyweds had to greet a line of nobility a mile long before they could begin their meal, which meant they didn’t get to eat much at all. Each courtier wanted to offer their congratulations and support. People who’d turned their noses up at Kindra when she’d first arrived now pandered; people who’d whispered rotten things behind her back now clasped her hands like they were old friends. Although some of her duties as princess would have her crossing paths with them on occasion, she was grateful she’d found a circle of true friends here.

Those true friends made their way over to them after the nobility were done with their cooing and fawning. Ryle and Heinrich—the latter there mostly for Jasper—came over first, each offering well wishes that felt far more heartfelt than any of the hundred they’d previously received.

Ryle smiled at her and promised that her official title as princess would not make him go easy on her in the ring.

“I would never expect such a thing,” Kindra replied. “I’d only tell you to cut it out if you did.”

Next was Terryn, who appeared humbler than Kindra had ever seen him. “It’s easy to forget who you are when we’re just training, and you’re dressed the same as us,” the Earthwarden admitted. “But, seeing you now… I…”

“I’m just Kindra,” she said, reaching out and squeezing Terryn’s shoulder.

Terryn gave her an incredulous look, his green eyes disbelieving. “No, you’re not. ”

Kindra laughed it off, but it made her a bit worried. Part of the reason she enjoyed Terryn’s company was that he didn’t treat her any differently from anybody else. Yes, he respected and admired her, but it was never in the reverent way others did. She had always appreciated that with him—with many of the guards she’d trained with over the last few months—she could just be herself. She hoped that wouldn’t change now that she was officially a princess.

She certainly didn’t plan on changing.

A few other guards stepped away from their posts around the throne room to come over and speak with the couple, and then Tess walked up to her.

Kindra swallowed, still shaken by the strange turn of their conversation the night before. But Tess was nothing but friendly, if a little distant, though that was nothing new these days. Kindra embraced her when the guardswoman offered her congratulations.

“I’m happy for you,” Tess said, and Kindra bit back her retort of Are you? She opted to thank her and smile instead.

Kindra’s mother, who’d been seated beside her the whole time, reached over and squeezed her hand. “At some point, you’re going to tell me what the deal is between you two,” she whispered in her daughter’s ear.

“You noticed?” Her mother had never shown any indication that she suspected something was wrong between them.

Sera nodded. “Of course I did, from the moment you said her name. But I didn’t want to arrive and immediately thrust myself into your business. I figured you’d tell me on your own time.” She gave Kindra a stern look. “And you will.”

You don’t want to know , she almost said, but left it alone as Helena and Emeline ambled over, pulling Jasper and her into a group hug.

Finally, hours later, Kindra was able to relax. She’d been carefully undressed, her wedding gown carried away to gods knew where. She wondered if she’d ever see the beautiful garment again. There would at least be a painting of Jasper and her to remember it by—there’d been a painter present during the ceremony, capturing the day. But she’d certainly never get another chance to wear it. If it hadn’t been so cumbersome and heavy, she’d be a bit sadder about that.

She lay on her bed in her robe. No point in getting dressed again, not when Sala and Cerulle would be arriving shortly to begin her transformation for the celebration ball. Exhaustion already pulled at her eyelids, but she knew better than to succumb to it. If she fell asleep now she’d only be groggier for the night’s activities.

Kindra stared at her right hand, at the gold, flame-embossed band that encircled her middle finger. A simple wedding ring, made to stay on even when she was wielding. She’d been assured it wouldn’t melt—it was a ring worn by one of the ancient Annalindises, one who’d been a Firefury. How much bloodshed had this ring seen, she wondered.

Still, the sight of the ring brought a warmth to her chest that drowned out her trepidation. When she got the letter announcing her fate so many months ago, she never imagined that she would walk down the aisle willingly, with hope for the future and love for the man before her in her heart. Honestly, there was a part of her that once would have rather died—she’d said as much, once upon a time.

But that was before she knew Jasper—the real Jasper. Before she met Helena and Emeline, Ryle and Terryn, and Tess. Before she realized that though there was much to fear in the coming months, that letter had brought her to things she had once believed she’d never really have, outside of her mother: love.

Yes, she had love now. She was surrounded by people who loved her.

And what would you do to save them? Would you be the king’s cursebreaker? Would you harness your God-blessed power? Would you fight in Alverin’s armies to keep them safe?

Kindra pushed the thoughts out of her head. She didn’t want to think about that now. She had a ball to prepare for, and then finally, finally, some time alone with her husband. It wasn’t the time to consider what to do if it came down to sacrificing herself for a king she didn’t believe in so she could save the people she cared about most.

When Kindra and Jasper strode into the ball, gasps were heard around the room.

It had been the king’s idea to wear the gown. It made her grimace when she realized she loved it .

She loved it a lot.

Despite the festive air, nobody could forget that a declaration of war could come at any moment. The king didn’t want to ignore that; rather, he wanted to embrace it. And who better to signal that than his esteemed cursebreaker?

So, Kindra did not just wear an ordinary ballgown tonight.

Her gown’s bodice was plated in golden armor. It was, of course, adorned with sparkling gems, but it was armor, nonetheless. It covered her shoulders, her upper chest, even stretched down to the sides of her hips. The skirt was white, billowing fabric, true to Alverinian fashion, but if the skirt had been replaced with pants, she could theoretically fight in it.

Combat was even in the gown’s details: underneath the armored bodice lay not stiff corset boning, but nerushmyr, which reflected the way the guards’ armor worked. So not only did she feel powerful—she was comfortable, too. The metal armor wasn’t the strongest—it was thin, not truly designed for a battle, but it was the aesthetic that mattered.

It was designed for a warrior. Someone who’d spent hours training, who’d taught herself the ins and outs of her powers, who’d been fighting since childhood.

Someone like her.

The king had relayed that it was a wedding gift, but that did little to make her feel any better.

She wore her new crown, but no other jewelry. Even her shoes were simple flats, though that was less of a statement than a necessity, as her feet would have fallen off after the whole morning and afternoon spent in heeled shoes. Her hair was in a low bun: a deceptively simple-looking hairstyle that had in fact not been simple at all, as Kindra had sat for nearly an hour while Sala had twisted and braided back individual pieces of hair, arranging each one just so.

But it was her cosmetics, Cerulle’s masterpiece, that completed the look and made her look like something straight out of a painting. Her eyes were thickly lined with kohl that swept out and upward, making her gaze that of liquid fire. Her eyelids and cheeks were painted with that shimmering golden powder. Under the light of the chandeliers, she looked radiant .

Jasper had gone still upon seeing her when they’d arrived to walk in together. He hadn’t said a word, just kissed her deeply. His eyes had danced with all sorts of promises for later, sending a zap of heat down her spine.

He, though not clad in armor, still looked every bit the warrior she knew he was. His jacket was cut of a thinner, more breathable fabric, not like the stiff material he usually wore, and it showcased his muscular frame in a way that made Kindra’s blood heat. Belted to his hip was his sword.

“Father’s orders,” he explained, and she gestured to her gown.

“Me, too,” she replied. “Guess I better get used to that.”

“Unfortunately,” was all her husband got out before they were ushered into the room—they were the last to arrive, as it was a ball thrown for them. Even the king and queen were already present, seated in their thrones. Leofric took them both in, and he nodded his approval, lips spreading in that wolfish smile of his.

Nobody was dancing yet. The first dance of the evening was reserved for them, so their first stop was the center of the room. The musicians began playing, and Jasper and Kindra bowed to each other. This was the dance that Gregory had meticulously choreographed and nitpicked for days. She could feel the etiquette master’s eyes on her from somewhere in the room, and she took a steadying breath before she and Jasper stepped forward and into each other’s arms.

They moved across the floor as one. Kindra’s dress floated out around her with every sweeping turn and graceful spin. She and Jasper never glanced away from another except when they had to. She didn’t look down at the floor to check her footing once. And when she caught the surprised and cowed stares of some of the courtiers, she couldn’t help but admit that Gregory had been right.

They will see me as their princess after this. She’d have to take a moment tonight to thank Gregory, and maybe apologize for her sullenness in their sessions.

When the dance ended, the room erupted into applause. They bowed together, hands joined, and before the chittering courtiers could swarm them once again, Jasper spirited them over to where Helena and Emeline sat with Kindra’s mother.

“Please protect us,” Jasper whispered, faking panic .

“You have to walk among them at some point, brother,” Helena chided. “They expect it of you and will be appalled if you don’t.”

“But we spent all day talking to them!” he protested, stomping his foot childishly and getting a laugh out of Kindra. “We know they don’t really like us.”

“Oh, but you know what they say about appearances,” Emeline remarked. Kindra frowned. The Wavebreaker looked beautiful as always, but there was a restlessness in her that Kindra hadn’t seen before. She shifted back and forth, eyes darting nervously around the room, not entirely present in the conversation at hand.

“Something wrong, Em?” Kindra asked.

Emeline started, as if unaware she’d even been behaving strangely. “No, no,” she said, “I just, ah, am a bit eager to be done with this very long day. The food at lunch didn’t sit well with me.”

“It wasn’t the cake, was it?” Her mother asked. Emeline’s father had baked it. It had been about the only thing Kindra got more than a couple bites of at the luncheon. It had been exquisitely decorated tower of chocolatey goodness. Kindra’s mouth watered just thinking about it.

Emeline huffed a laugh. “Gods, no. Father’s never underbaked something in his life. It was probably the duck. That never settles in my stomach well.”

Helena nodded along, clearly having already heard it. Kindra smiled at her friend. “Well, I hope you don’t feel so poorly that you end the night early. If you two leave the ball before we do we’ll basically have no other friends here. That is, besides the guards. And none of them can drink.”

Emeline gave her a weak smile that didn’t meet her eyes. She must really feel bad if she was this mellow. “We wouldn’t dare abandon you, Kindra,” she vowed.

Kindra and Jasper eventually had to abandon them , though. Helena was right: they could hide for only so long. So, they gritted their teeth and ventured back out into the crowd, dancing and talking with the now-drunken courtiers.

The one highlight was Gregory, who didn’t so much offer praise as he simply just restrained himself from being critical. Kindra thanked him genuinely for his guidance, and he gave her a knowing smirk. “We are not finished, Your Highness,” he said before drifting away, the promise of more lessons sounding like a threat.

“Oh, joy,” Kindra muttered, and beside her, Jasper laughed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and her body hummed.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, by the way,” he said softly. “I didn’t tell you earlier because I was rendered speechless.”

“Good to know the compliments don’t stop now that we’re married.” Sparks flickered under her skin.

“Never, darling. I intend to spend the rest of my days worshipping you.” Another kiss, this one to the side of her jaw.

“Worshipping, eh? How so?” Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her magic buzzed, as if roused by his touch.

“Oh, so many ways. With my words, my hands, my mouth—”

“Hey, lovebirds!” A familiar voice cut Jasper off mid-sentence. Tess closed the gap between them in a few strides. “Their Majesties would like to see you now, if you don’t mind saving the debauchery for your bedroom.” She wore her classic smirk, but there was a sense of urgency in her orange gaze.

“I suppose we can do that,” Jasper replied smoothly, but Kindra didn’t bother to respond. She was too busy trying to calm the rising thrum of fire in her veins. Did Jasper really have this much of an effect on her? He normally made her hot and bothered, and sometimes it did rile up her magic, but this was different.

She tried to shake it off as they followed Tess to the dais where the king and queen sat. It must be the alcohol—she’d had several glasses of that Rouliernien wine tonight, so it must have gone to her head. Indeed, as they walked, she swayed slightly on her feet; Jasper’s arm came up around her waist to support her.

Tess peeled off before they reached the dais, swallowed up by the throng of dancers within seconds. Jasper and Kindra approached the king and queen, sinking into respectful bows.

“We were told you wanted to see us, Your Majesty,” Jasper said to his father.

But instead of nodding or launching into a conversation, the king merely blinked. “I did not give such an order.” He tilted his head to the side. “Though I appreciate you coming to greet your king and queen. ”

Again, that respect with which he spoke to Jasper now jarred her. It was so unlike the exasperated, disdainful tone he used to have when talking to his son. She felt Jasper’s body stiffen against hers; he, too, was finding the change unnerving.

“Of course, Father.” Jasper cleared his throat, now on less sure footing. Kindra would have spoken up, but her magic was still acting strangely, straining and kicking under her skin. She blinked and shook her head, but the feeling only grew.

“Princess Kindra,” the king said, genuine concern furrowing his brow. “Is something the matter?”

“I—” She shook her head again, unable to speak. A roaring grew in her ears. “I’m not sure, honestly. My magic is—it just feels—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. For in that very moment, Queen Cordilya shot to her feet, eyes nothing but milky white. Leofric was at her side instantly. “Cordilya, what is it?”

The queen was shaking. Kindra’s eyes began to water from the pressure building under her skin. Jasper was asking her something, but she could hardly make out the words; not when she was focused on Cordilya, who stared at nothing, mouth opening and closing without sound. The king began to say her name louder, drawing the attention of the courtiers. His other children began making their way across the room to their parents.

When the queen finally spoke, she said only two words.

“Darkness comes,” the Oracle rasped, and then collapsed into the king’s arms as the corner of the room where Jasper and Kindra had been standing mere moments ago exploded.