A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(30)

“What about the addict?” Carver asks in a low voice, handing Beta Sinta back the knife he threw.

“Leave him,” Beta Sinta answers, sheathing the blade. He’s at my elbow, his heat searing my arm. “Make sure he’s not following.”

The addict slips from my mind as soon as he’s out of sight, growing hazy like everything else. Cheerful, carefree, I hum, floating up and down the market rows. There’s something else I need. What?

Can’t remember. Don’t really care.

I stumble. Beta Sinta catches me, his hands circling my waist.

“You’re high on euphoria.” He’s holding on to me. I think he’s holding me up. His large hands skim up my ribs, steadying me. “A strong dose, calibrated to a man twice your size.” He gazes down at me, and I see my face reflected in the darkest part of his gray eyes. “How did that happen?”

I motion for him to lower his head so I can whisper in his ear. His cheek brushes mine, and warmth rushes through me. I press into his jaw, curious about the feel of the two days’ worth of beard on his skin. It prickles, but not unpleasantly.

“I can steal magic,” I tell him. “If you had any, I’d steal yours.”

He lifts his head, his eyes shadowed. I don’t know what to make of his expression. I don’t know what to make of anything. I’ve never felt this way before—disconnected from myself, confused, and happy. It’s a relief not to be scared anymore. So freeing. I should do this more often. I’m having the time of my life!

“I can give it away, too.” I direct some euphoria at Beta Sinta. It bounces back to me with a shudder, and I frown. “You don’t want any?” Is he supposed to have a choice? I try again, and the same thing happens. “There’s something very strange about you.” For some reason, that makes me laugh so hard I sound like a donkey.

After I stop braying, it occurs to me that the problem might be me. I wiggle out of Beta Sinta’s grasp and throw some magic at Kato.

Kato grins and leans to the left. “Everything’s pink!” He turns, loses his balance, and upends an entire display of boots, belts, and other leather goods.

“For the Gods’ sakes!” Beta Sinta mutters. He hands the furious vendor a silver coin for the inconvenience. “Flynn! Take care of him. Take him back to the inn. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, knock anything else over, or kill anyone by accident.”

“Oh, no!” I cry. “We mustn’t kill by accident. Only on purpose.”

“My sentiment exactly,” Beta Sinta grumbles, taking my hand and pulling me down the street. He looks a lot like I might be on his kill list.

I giggle. Carver follows.

“Where are we going?” I dance a Fisan jig around Beta Sinta, making him turn in circles. The dust I kick up shimmers like ice crystals under a winter sun. I long for the cold, the kind of cold that makes your brain freeze.

Where is my brain? I can’t feel my head!

My hands fly up, and I dig through my braid, pulling it apart until I feel scalp. Oh, good. Still there.

“We have one more thing to buy,” Beta Sinta says.

“I knew it!” I yell, clapping in triumph. “What?”

“A drying cloth.”

That sounds boring. Something shiny catches my eye. I veer to the right, taking Beta Sinta with me. “A sword! I want a sword. Can I have a sword?”

“You can’t even lift a sword,” he says, but he follows me along the vendor’s table anyway.

“I can. Watch me.” I reach for the biggest, shiniest blade in the merchant’s wares. It won’t budge. “That’s odd. Someone must have glued it.” I lean over the sword and keep going until my face lands on metal.

“Ow!” I rub my nose, and my finger comes away bloody. Seeing the red smear should worry me, but I can’t remember why.

“Blood.” Mother’s voice haunts me from far away. “Spill it. Shed it. Bathe in it. Make people fear you.”

Laughter bubbles up inside me. I’ve never found Mother funny before. This euphoria stuff is great!

Beta Sinta leans close to inspect my nose. He brushes hair out of my face with callused fingers that are light and warm.

On impulse, I lift my hands and trail my fingers over the dark stubble shadowing his cheeks. “Hmmm. Scratchy.”

He stares down at me as he catches my hands and slowly lowers them, keeping my fingers trapped loosely in his. His thumbs skate over my knuckles, and a lovely flutter tickles my ribs.

“The cut’s nothing,” he says, his voice unusually soft. A few heartbeats pass before he lets me go and turns to the vendor, nodding to a half-sized sword at the far end of the table.

The merchant hands it to him, and Beta Sinta inspects the weapon, testing its weight and balance and making sure the blade is straight.

“We’ll take it,” he finally says. “And your smallest sword belt with dagger loops.”

“You’re buying me a sword? And a belt for my knives?” Thrilled, I leap on him like an octopus, clinging to him with arms and legs. So more like a quadropus. Does that even exist?

Gods! His skin is on fire!

Beta Sinta’s arms lock around me. Thunder rolls in my ears, and I cock my head, listening for more. He goes utterly still. Does he hear it, too? Then he inhales so deeply that his chest expands, pressing into me. A dizzying sensation sweeps through me. Against my neck, his shuddering exhale stirs my hair and sends a rush of goose bumps down my spine.