A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(56)

“I’m fine,” I answer, wondering how the sun still rises every day without Eleni in the world.

“You can talk to me, Cat.”

I shake my head, but the same sudden, overwhelming warmth that kept hitting me all evening curls through my body again, heating me up. It’s been harder to act indifferent to him since the moment he stretched out on top of me, pressed his body into mine, and told me he wanted to touch me.

I manage—more or less—and we move farther from the others, sitting where we won’t wake them with our talk. I tell him about the Tarvan royals, but my information is mostly common knowledge, a lot of which he already knows. I supply names, which are meaningless since royals are always referred to by rank, but I humor him since he seems to think they’re important.

“Galen is only Alpha because his father came down with a mysterious illness and died before his reign should have been over. Everyone suspects poison—and Galen—but no one can prove it. For all their cruelty, royals don’t usually stoop to poison. An Alpha is Alpha by magic and might. Anything else leaves people antsy, and the door open for challenges. Galen’s two children will pay the price. They’ve already lost their mother, Galen isn’t strong enough to last, and they’re too young to defend themselves. Acantha, Delta Tarva, is the one to watch. She’s Galen’s sister, and she already killed off two of her brothers. Galen and his kids are next. She’s just biding her time since we’re already on the cusp of a Power Bid.”

He nods, and I know I don’t have to explain. It happens every forty years or so, sometimes less, sometimes more. Current rulers pass their primes. Their children reach theirs. Alphas shift. Realms burn.

I glance at Griffin, wondering if he started it all. Wondering about my role. The prophecy rolls through my head, sending ice down my spine.

“What makes her so powerful?” he asks, drawing me out of dark musings.

“Acantha is a Drakon charmer. It helps having giant serpents, usually with multiple heads and deadly venom, hanging on your every word.”

His mouth lifts in that lopsided smile that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. His lower lip is fuller, but the top one has a decadent curve that’s distracting. It’s hard not to think about how it would feel if I touched it—or if it touched me.

“That does sound useful,” he agrees. “Got anything like that up your sleeve?”

“Not currently,” I reply cryptically.

His smile broadens, making my stomach dip in the most annoying way.

“Appoline is next, but with little magic and even less intelligence, no one has bothered killing her off yet. I don’t know much about Bellanca and Lystra, the two youngest sisters. They might have significant power; they might not. Their magic hadn’t fully matured when I left Fisa, and I haven’t been privy to the same information since.”

“Why were you privy then?”

His question is so deceptively casual that I speak without thinking and then don’t see any reason to stop. “I had tutors. Andromeda wanted me to know all about her nobles, her rivals, Gods, creatures, the other realms, their royals and elite…” I shrug. “I had to know what was important, so I could filter the lies.”

“Learn anything useful?”

I gaze into the darkness. “All the time.”

“And what happened?”

Besides burning up inside and being in constant pain? “If I told Andromeda about it, people usually died.”

“And did you always tell her?”

I arch an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

We stop talking. I don’t know what Griffin is thinking—probably about how often I might lie to him, or withhold the truth.

“Did she know when you lied?” he asks after a while.

Andromeda always knew when I was lying. Kind of like Griffin. I nod.

“And what did she do?” His tone turns cautious, as if he doesn’t really want to hear the answer.

I roll up my sleeve and bare my upper arm to the moonlight. Long, thin scars shine like silver threads, marring my skin from elbow to shoulder. The other arm looks the same. I don’t bother showing him. He’s already seen it. “Do you know what these are?”

“Death Marks. There’s the new one here.” He softly touches my arm, his finger warm against my skin.

“Selena did that. It’s what healers do when you’re so close to death they have to enchant your blood to get it flowing again. They draw it out on a knife, chant over it while you lie there struggling for your final breaths, and then smear it back on and hope for the best.”

“There must be a dozen,” he says grimly, counting both arms. “Andromeda caused this?”

“She tried beating the truth out of me several times. Unsuccessfully.”

His lips flatten into a tight seam, eliminating that distracting curve. “You’re not one to break under torture.”

There’s respect in his voice, which I choose to ignore. I roll my sleeve back down. “I’d rather die, so don’t bother trying.”

Griffin’s eyebrows slam down. “Cat—”

I pop up, brush myself off, and return to my bedroll without letting him finish. My blanket is cold. Oddly, so am I.

Griffin shakes Kato awake, and Kato takes over watch while Griffin spreads his bedding on the ground about ten feet from mine. In a matter of minutes, he appears to be asleep. I argue with myself for a while and then drag my things closer to his, stopping four feet away.