Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 54

It was dark out when Kindra woke.

She was in her chambers, cocooned in her bed. A fire was blazing in the hearth. She breathed in its life, feeling her magic crackle weakly under her skin. Her whole body was devastatingly sore, and for a moment, she was confused as to why, but then she remembered.

The ball. The attack.

Scaldor. She called on him, the one thing she had said she’d never do—

The Shadow Assassins—

Vylie . Rage rushed through her. That bitch had nearly killed Jasper. Had nearly killed her .

Her memory was clearing ever so slowly, as if it had been hidden behind fog. She recalled the Shadowmaster’s blade slicing through her stomach like her skin was mere paper after she’d reduced half a dozen other Shadow Assassins to ash; the hatred in the other woman’s black eyes. The vastness of power that burned through her when Scaldor answered her; the emptiness inside her when he left. She remembered trying to hold the wound closed as blood poured down her front, trying to crawl to Jasper, unconscious and bleeding out on the ground. Watching Caroline Halis get stabbed straight through the heart, watching Terryn get decapitated—

Terryn. Oh gods, Terryn was dead . How many others were, too? There had been so many bodies, so many bloodied faces she couldn’t put a name to amid all the chaos. The assassins had blocked off the doors to the throne room, trapping everyone inside—and keeping reinforcements out. They would’ve been completely outmatched, if it hadn’t been for—

For her .

She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to accept it, but she knew it was true. When she had opened herself up to that burning, angry god, it had saved them. When she let her fear get the best of her and lost control, she became Alverin’s savior, not just in name or hope, but in truth.

She groaned, both at the realization and her aching body. She had been sapped of all her energy and spirit. The wound Vylie had given her plus the aftermath of Scaldor’s presence within her was taking its toll. She wondered if Jasper was feeling similarly.

Panic rushed through her then. Was Jasper even alive? The Healers had reached him by the time she lost consciousness; the last thing she’d seen had been a Healer crouched by his side. But what if he’d been too wounded? What if it had been too late? Further terror grabbed her by the throat. Where was her mother? Emeline? Helena? Tess?

She tried to sit up, only to let out a scream as agony ripped through her abdomen. Frantic, tears pricking in her eyes, she pushed back the blankets and yanked her nightgown up.

Vaguely, she was aware of the door opening, and the sound of hurried footsteps coming towards her. But all she could do was stare at the new jagged scar that stretched from under her right breast all the way down to the top of her left hip. Not quite fully healed, it was still a bright pink, and it fucking hurt .

“Kindra,” came her mother’s voice, wrenching her gaze up and away from her stomach.

She took in her mother—haggard, but unharmed—and burst into tears. Sera Bedelyn crawled onto the bed and gathered her daughter gently in her arms, careful to avoid hurting her.

“You’re safe, sweetheart,” she whispered into Kindra’s hair, which was growing damp with her own tears. “It’s over. The castle is under control. You’re safe.”

“Jasper—”

She didn’t realize Cerulle had entered as well until the Windspinner spoke. “Is alive. Helena is alive. Emeline is alive. Tess is alive.” Every name clanged through her like a bell, and she could only sob harder with relief.

“How many are dead?” She had to know.

Cerulle swallowed thickly, but answered, “Over two dozen dead, most of them guards.” Her voice wavered slightly, and Kindra knew she was bogged down with grief. “A few of the nobility, too.” Caroline Halis’s face flashed through Kindra’s head.

“How many injured?”

“At least thrice the number that were killed.”

Such devastation, unleashed by just a handful of Shadowmasters. Dread pooled in Kindra’s bones. How were they to survive if the other kingdoms had managed to get the Shadow Assassins on their side?

“All in the royal family are alive.” Cerulle continued her reporting. “Antone and Jasper were gravely injured but are expected to make full recoveries. Queen Cordilya is…”The Windspinner swallowed, shaken. “Queen Cordilya has yet to awaken after collapsing at the ball.”

Kindra nodded shakily, her body still rippling with pain. She had little love for Antone, but she was glad he had survived. The queen’s state disturbed her, though she didn’t know what there was to do except wait. Her mother tightened her arms around her. “Is Sala—is she all right?”

“Yes. Exhausted—she has healed many more than just you over the last day—but all right. Alive.”

“Last day? Have I really been out for a whole day?”

“Yes,” her mother said, “you needed the time to recover.” Given how worn Sera looked, the time Kindra had been unconscious hadn’t been easy on her.

“Jasper is still sleeping,” Cerulle said, as if she knew exactly what Kindra was about to ask next. “He’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. Healers say he probably won’t wake fully until the morning.”

“Which gives you more time to rest,” her mother said sternly. She looked to Cerulle. “And eat. Would it be possible to send for some food? Something light—a soup, perhaps.”

“Of course,” Cerulle replied, dipping her head in a respectful nod to them both. “I’ll be back shortly.” And with that, she was gone.

Kindra looked up at her mother. “You don’t need to do that, you know.”

“What, take care of you? Please, you may now be a princess, but you’re still my daughter,” Sera chuckled softly, hand still stroking Kindra’s hair.

Princess. The title made her stomach flutter. Jasper’s wife. Not betrothed, not anymore. His wife .

“I suppose I am a princess, now,” she murmured. Princess Kindra Annalindis. No commoner surname anymore. She looked down to her right hand, where that little golden band of fire sat.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m not quite sure,” she confessed. “I’d come to terms with being married, but I think I spent so much time on that I didn’t give enough thought to what it would feel like to officially…”

“Be a part of the royal family?” Sera finished for her. Kindra nodded mutely, suddenly overwhelmed by all that lay before her, all the obstacles she’d pushed to the back of her mind as she’d gotten swept up in Jasper, in her love for him. It had been so easy to forget it, to say we can worry about that later .

But later was here , now that she and Jasper were officially wed. And with the disdain between them thoroughly and publicly obliterated, there would be no reason in the eyes of the king why they couldn’t get right to their true, only purpose: breaking the curse, especially now that he knew she was God-blessed.

Kindra shuddered as the king’s face flashed through her mind. The victorious gleam in his eyes, even as he held his unconscious wife and reached for his injured son.

But she had not missed the fear that lurked in his gaze by the end, when she’d burned through Shadowmaster after Shadowmaster, when he had seemed to realize that the power he’d long hoped she possessed was something even he might not be able to control.

When he had understood that she was not just his potential savior, but his biggest threat.

Tears welled as everything seemed to crash down around her. Reality came rushing back in. Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly, and she tried to focus on her breathing, but the panic—and the grief—was too great.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to be okay.” Her mother held her close, rocking her slightly as if she were still a child. “You’ve already done so well—I can’t imagine it will be that hard.” Then, softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She was silent for a few heartbeats. Part of her still wanted to shield her mother somehow, but there was no use now. Not when she was certain the whole castle knew what she’d done, if not half the city .

“I’m God-blessed,” she said slowly, still struggling not to choke on the words. “Scaldor can use me as a channel for his power, if I allow it—or I use him. I’m not sure which one it is. It only happened once before, when I was young. The first time I—” She cut herself off, not wanting to relive that memory again. “The king said something about Queen Scalya that made me curious when he danced with me at the Solstice Ball. I got a hold of her journals and read about her experience. It’s... it’s the same, Mama.”

Her mother did not respond. Kindra continued, needing her mother to understand, “I didn’t mean to do it. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t, because of what it would mean to the king. How it would change everything even more. But I just—I thought the assassin was about to kill me and I... I just did it. I don’t know. I just felt that I’d do anything to stay alive, so I could keep fighting, even the one thing I’d vowed to never do again.”

“I don’t blame you, Kindra,” her mother replied finally, surprisingly calm. Kindra suspected that the shock of the last day had yet to wear off, and she was merely grateful her daughter was alive. “You saved people’s lives, mine and Jasper’s included. I would never blame you for that. And you saved the crown prince’s life, as well. The king will be grateful to you, I’m sure.”

He’s going to kill me, Mama, she screamed in her head, unable to voice the words. Some things she could protect her mother from just a little bit longer.

“Terryn is dead,” she murmured instead. “I saw him die. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop it.” Then, the words she could hardly stomach saying because they filled her with such shame: “He was trying to save me. Save Jasper.”

Her head filled with memories of the snarky Earthwarden she’d come to call her friend. His cocky introduction to her, all those months ago; him, damp with sweat after losing to her again but eager to go just one more time; his wielding, which had grown so much since he’d started training with her. How magnificent it had been, in his final moments—how beautiful it had been as he’d fought his way across the ballroom by her side, his face empty of all his usual arrogance and humor, replaced with fierce determination .

And terror—especially in those last few seconds when Vylie closed in, her blade still dripping with Kindra’s blood, and he realized he was alone, that nobody, not even her, was coming to save him.

And Kindra could do nothing but watch from her place on the bloodied floor, one hand straining for Jasper and the other holding her stomach together, mouth open in a silent scream.

It was as if Vylie knew exactly what would hurt her the most.

She remembered, then, what the Shadowmaster had snarled in her ear as she ran her sword through Kindra’s torso.

Some things are not up to me, firebird.

At that moment, Kindra had hardly registered the words. But now that she was safe, she finally thought about them, as much as she could with her battered mind.

What did she mean by that? Who was really pulling the strings?

And why did she keep calling her firebird?

Cerulle returned with a tray laden with bowls of hot soup. Kindra allowed her mother to feed her, too weak to protest or do it herself. She was too exhausted to even register the taste as it slid down her throat. When she was finished, she had her mother and Cerulle help her to the bathing room, where she relieved herself before crawling back into her bed. Her mother laid down next to her and pulled her daughter back into her arms, as if she couldn’t bear to let her go.

Kindra’s mind was racing, but her head felt so heavy on her mother’s chest. She had to see Jasper, but she reluctantly accepted that that would have to wait—though there was so much to be said to her husband once he awoke and she was able to stay conscious for longer than a half hour. And then there was the matter of everything else—the king, her power, the war—but she could think about that after she saw Jasper. After she said everything she had been holding back.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but blackness swooped in, and she drifted into nothingness.