Roar (Stormheart #1)(74)

His face was harsh in the flickering glow of the torch and he growled, “I do not wish to hurt you, but far more depends on Aurora’s survival than you know. I will do what I must to get her back. I am not afraid of crossing lines. You would be smarter to cooperate before I do. Did you tell the queen something different in your account of the kidnapping? Something that would make her believe the princess to be dead?”

Nova’s stomach sank. The queen thought her daughter had been kidnapped for her Stormling abilities. Only the two of them knew Rora had no magic. No wonder the queen was so brokenhearted. She assumed that when the kidnappers discovered Rora was no use to them, they would dispose of her.

Nova said, “I told her and everyone else in that courtyard the same thing I told you. I am cooperating. I don’t know what else you want from me.” Nova swallowed, her throat dry, and asked, “Can I see the queen? Maybe I can comfort her.”

Cassius sneered. “What could you possibly say that hasn’t already been said? If you know something, you’ll tell me, and I’ll decide if it’s worth telling the queen.”

Nova sat up on the bed, pushing the blanket off her legs as the fire inside her began to rise. She did not want the queen to suffer, but she had made Rora a promise. And telling Prince Cassius that the princess knowingly broke a betrothal treaty could make things far worse.

“I have told you everything there is to tell.”

“You are a good liar, Novaya. Many would likely believe you, but I am not so easily fooled. I know the taste of a lie better than I know the truth. I don’t know what secret you’re keeping, but I will. Eventually. Perhaps if sleep does not come so easily, you’ll find your tongue loosened.”

He took hold of her wrist and dragged her up from the bed. She barely fought; she had to focus too hard to keep from burning him where he stood. And when she felt a surge of heat at her back, she thought for a moment she had failed.

But then she opened her eyes and saw that he’d tossed his torch onto the bed, and the thin mattress, filled with straw, had gone up like kindling. Her anger surged and with it the fire on her bed. Flames licked as high as the ceiling, and a dozen fiery fingers seemed to crook at her, beckoning her toward the blaze.

Instead she stumbled back, her body slamming into the stone wall behind her.

“Why are you doing this?” Nova asked through gritted teeth.

The fire cast flickering shadows over the hard angles of the prince’s face. And for the first time, he did not look cold and emotionless to her. He looked … desperate.

“I’m doing what I must, doing everything I know to make this right, to bring Aurora home. While it’s still hers. If you won’t help me, then you are my enemy. And I have no mercy for enemies.”

He opened the door and a guard in a blue Locke uniform set three buckets of water just inside the door. Then they left, and it was just her and the fire, raging inside and out.

Nova did not bother going for the water. Instead she stood and ambled closer to the bed. The smoke burned down her throat and the heat was enough to make her drip with sweat. But she closed her eyes and stuck her hands into the blaze. It did not burn. It never did. And instead of trying to douse the flame, she pulled it to her instead. She imagined it soaking past her skin, engulfing her muscles, streaming through her blood. She coaxed it up her arms and toward her chest and shoved it down, down, down toward that door barred inside her.

One thing was clear to her now. Cassius would not release her, not ever. If she wanted to be free, she would have to make the opportunity herself. So instead of denying the fire, she would save it up. And she would wait. Wait until a moment presented itself.

When there was no more fire to pull, she opened her eyes and found her bed charred black, only the smell of smoke left behind. At least she did not have to worry about the handprint burns any longer. She stumbled back, feeling like she was filled to the brim, like her very soul was stretched to its limits.

Then she went to the buckets of water in the corner, and for the first time in weeks, she scrubbed herself completely clean.

*

The hunters did not find another town until late afternoon on the next day. At first sight it appeared whole, if not a little worse for wear. A stone wall encircled the town, probably about as tall as Locke. It wouldn’t be much good for keeping anyone out. In at least two places, Locke saw piles of rubble where the wall had been knocked down. Storm damage. They were at the westernmost edge of the Sangsorra desert. What little grass there was had been swallowed up by a sea of rusty-red sand that had given the desert its name. Sangsorra meant blood sands in Vyhodin. The trees were the short, brushy type that could live through long droughts. Some of those appeared to be broken or split. Skyfire.

The town looked better on the inside than the outside. The houses, though simple, were in decent shape and made from some kind of clay that was nearly the same color as the earth. People walked and talked in the streets, but they were clean and well dressed. Neighbors, not beggars. A few stared at the group as they made their way down a dusty road toward the town center, but the townsfolk appeared friendly enough.

Locke spotted a nearby building with an oversize chimney and a blacksmith sign out front. He caught Duke’s eye and nodded. The town roads sprawled out like rays from the sun, everything meeting together in the center. They slowed the horses as they approached a courtyard in the middle, and already waiting for them was a well-dressed man with graying hair and a thick mustache. He stood with hands linked behind his back, strong posture, chin tilted up with confidence. At his back were a few sturdy men, not quite menacing, but with the potential to be so.