Flamecaster (Shattered Realms #1)(107)

“Look, it’s the only way to kill the deal without giving everything away.”

“Without giving your scheme away, you mean.”

“Well, yes,” Lila said. “Plus, we survive. It’s all good.”

“For everyone but Jenna.”

“Do you think it’s better to send her off to the Northern Islands? Have you heard the expression ‘fate worse than death’?”

“You need to get out of the habit of thinking of me as stupid,” Ash said. “I’m not going to help you kill Jenna, and it’s not because I’m naive.”

“If I went to her, and I told her what the stakes are, what do you think she would say?”

That was when Lila crossed the line.

In a heartbeat, Ash had her pinned up against the wall. She tried some cagey moves, but got nowhere. “You will not go near her, do you understand?”

Lila stared at him, an incredulous look on her face. “Blood and bones. How could I of missed that? You’re not stupid, you’re in love!”

“Just because I won’t sign on to whatever plan you come up with doesn’t mean I—”

“I can’t believe it!” Lila crowed. “He has a heart after all.”

“You’re not improving your chances of winning me over,” Ash said. “Just so you know. If you want my help, you’re going to have to come up with a different plan.”





37


A PLEDGE AND A PROMISE


When Ash arrived at the tower room that night, the posted guard had been doubled. Whether because of Jenna’s demonstrated market value or mistrust of the pirates, it was getting more and more difficult to get in to see her. Just another sign that time was running out.

When he finally gained entry, she was sitting, looking out the window, a book lying forgotten in her lap. She’d changed out of the dress she’d worn to the interview with Strangward and into the one she’d worn the day before. She’d pulled her hair free, too, and it hung softly around her shoulders.

When she turned and saw him, she launched out of the chair, the book thunking onto the floor. They came together like two magnets slamming home. Ash could feel Jenna’s wildly beating heart through his velvet and her silk. It was like kisses were oxygen and they’d been drowning.

Or they were about to drown.

Finally, she broke away and held him out at arm’s length so she could look him over. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the bottle he carried.

“It’s wine,” he said. “To celebrate some good news.” He set the wine jar and two cups down on the table next to her chair.

“So,” she said, “what’s the news? Wait, don’t tell me—the king is dead.”

There was something in her voice that caught his attention—some private knowledge or intuition. He hadn’t told her about his attempts to poison Montaigne. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, and she’d told him not to make promises, after all.

He studied her a moment, then said, “Not yet. We’re celebrating for two reasons—first, Arden and Carthis were unable to come to terms. Montaigne is demanding his army before he hands you over. That buys us a little time.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jenna said, pouring them each some wine.

“It might just be a temporary setback,” Ash warned.

“Remember my rule? Savor the moment.” She raised her glass and they toasted.

“Secondly, have you heard that Delphi has fallen?”

Jenna was swallowing down some wine, and she all but choked on it. “F-fallen? To who?”

“The Patriots have retaken the city. They’ve booted the mudbacks out.”

Jenna set down her wine, gripped his elbows, and danced him around the room in a kind of impromptu upland reel, her bare feet thumping on the stone floor. “Come on, Wolf,” she said, when his feet didn’t move fast enough, “put the wine down and dance with me!”

Ash did his best, and, finally, they collapsed into the chair, gasping and laughing.

“Say it again,” she said fiercely. “I want to hear it again.”

“The Patriots have retaken Delphi,” Ash said. “They’ve dealt the Ardenine army a crushing defeat.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling. “I’ll bet the bonfires are still burning on the hills. I wish I could be there to see it. Fletcher must be in a world of joy.” Gradually, her smile faded and the melancholy crept back into her eyes. “There are so many people who didn’t live to see it. Maggi, and Riley, and my da . . .”

He cupped her face with his hands. “Remember what you said—that worrying about the bad times can ruin what should be the good times. So celebrate. Celebrate without regret.” He kissed her, then poured them each another cup of wine.

“To the Patriots of Delphi, both the living and the dead,” Jenna said, raising her cup in a toast. She drank deeply, then stared into space, turning the cup in her hands. “There it is again,” she murmured.

“There’s what?”

“Flamecaster. I keep hearing that name in my head.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since that emissary arrived, I’ve been hearing voices. It sounds like someone crying for help, saying ‘Flamecaster! Help me!’”