A Kiss of Magic: A Kiss of Magic Book One (30 page)

“Ah. You are of fire…much like your hair,” he said. He reached out to her before anyone could react and picked up one of the coiled locks that she had let fall free of her upswept chignon. The guard moved forward a step but she raised a hand and held them at bay…even though her heart was pounding in…was it fear? Was she afraid of him? She didn’t think so.

He let the curl fall back against her, but not before his fingers brushed her throat surreptitiously. A shiver bloomed across her shoulders and down her spine. She fought to control any outward sign of the reaction.

“I am what you would call Torrenic as well. Both of us leaders of great fire.” He paused a moment, letting his hand drop to the hilt of the sword belted at his side. None of the leaders of the triumvirate ever wore weapons. There was never a need as they were constantly under guard by those who had weapons. Besides, their majic was their main weapon and that went with them wherever they went. “I will do as you request. Only two guards, none of them Aspano or Jadoc.”

“Very well. Would you like to see the city?”

“I have been very curious about your city,” he said with a nod and a hand that said she should precede him back out of the vestibule. “It is very different than what we would call a city.”

“How so?” she asked, even though she knew a great deal about that already.

“Our buildings are all made of rough hewn stone or adobe. Our roads are made of bricks. We have many generations of families living under one roof, rather than separate roofs for each person. We do not have the room in our country to be able to give everyone their own house.” He paused until they were on the street and walking along the wooden footpaths that bordered the front of each building. “We do not have footpaths like this and we do not have places like this.”

He pointed to one of the lavish restaurants that was sitting across from them.

“You do not have public eating houses?” she asked in surprise.

“We have inns,” he allowed. “But look at all of the space that is wasted by all of those individual tables set so far apart. When we eat at an inn we crowd into long tables, sharing with any others who happen to be there.”

It sounded chaotic and utterly lacking in privacy…all of it. She realized then how fortunate they were to have so much room in which to house their citizens and to keep them in comfort. It had never occurred to her what it meant to live in so crowded a society.

“Most of our land is mountainous. We live on the face of them, carve homes out of them…but it leaves us very little room for things like cities. What we do not live in we convert into mines. Our jewels and precious metals are the only way we have of feeding our people. We use them to trade overseas with the Salacians, the Durites and, before the war, overland with the Sarens. Being on the end of a peninsula, we have but two large ports. One on the western coast and one on the eastern. All else is sheer rock face and no beach or lower land able enough for creating ports. We are completely dependent on those lone ports.”

Ariana knew all of this, but still she was surprised by how forthcoming he was with the shortcomings of his country. For all intents and purposes, he could be telling her exactly how to defeat him.

However, they had tried to cut off their port access once already. The embargo blocking their supply ships had not gone well. For all they were mountain clans, they were also rabid seamen. They ferociously protected their supply lines. They had no choice but to do so. They would starve otherwise.

She had respected that. But she also knew he was secretly rubbing it in that they had failed in their gambit to stunt their trade. That served to make her neck burn with temper. But she checked the reaction almost as quickly as it began. It would not do to let him provoke her at every given moment. She was determined not to let him annoy her.

“So there is not much flat land on which to build homes and cities. But you
do
have cities.”

“I have many cities in my country, but they are not like this one in any way. We cannot build horizontally, so we build vertically. There are four or five stories to every building. Each story houses multiple generations of families. A family can purchase a story of a house and make it their own. Each story has but one fireplace. But it is all that is needed since the warmth of all the bodies within the room keeps it warm. The buildings are also very well insulated, made of thick stone or dense adobe. There is usually but one window per story, allowing very little cold into a room.”

And very little light, she thought.

“And you import your fuel for your fires? Since you have no trees any longer.”

“We import wood, yes. But we have our own supplies of coal as you know. We are fortunate that we have what others desire most.”

“Riches.”

“Yes. And we are also very strict negotiators. We always seek a bargain.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that when his dark eyes flashed with humor. In fact, the Kiltians were known for driving the hardest bargains when it came to trade. There was even a saying: “You drive a harder bargain than a Kiltian!” to complement one who is a shrewd businessman.

“The Sarens are known for their ability to farm and cultivate grain,” she said, even though she knew he already knew this. Their rich farmland was what he was determined to wrest from them. Not all of it, but a decent enough portion of it. She had to respect the wisdom in his demands. If they obtained enough land they would no longer be dependent on others for their food. Also, they would be able to build sprawling cities without worrying about the overcrowding of their homes any longer. “But it takes a great deal to be able to coax grain and produce from the Saren soil. You cannot think to merely drop a seed and see it grow.”

“We are hoping that some Sarens will wish to show us exactly how to cultivate those crops. We would pay them handsomely for it.”

“You would have the very men you are robbing of their livelihood teach you to make use of their lands?” She was aghast at his audacity.

“They would become very rich men.”

“For some men there is not enough money to replace the land they own. You realize any decision we made for your benefit would be robbing a Saren of their livelihood.”

“That is not my concern. My concern is for my people. The rest is troublesome only to you.”

Again she felt her temper rage to the forefront. This time she let her tongue fly.

“How easily you dismiss the well being of others!”

“I do not dismiss it entirely. But as I said, it is your problem to relocate them. If you feel so badly for them then you will give them new lands for free.”

She frowned in consternation. She had already been thinking along those lines. But she was not about to let him know that.

“Let us go to the shops on Haverton Street. It is known for the best in all things of the Saren style.”

“We do not dress in the Saren style so this would be a waste of time,” he said dismissively. “Let us go to your gladiator ring.”

“Gladiator ring?” she echoed.

“The place in which your men fight one another for the entertainment of others.”

“We…we do not have anything like that.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. He stepped so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating against her.

“Then how do your men prove themselves in battle?” His visage was brooding as he looked down at her.

“We have an army that practices with one another for-”

“Then this is what I wish to see.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t show you how we train our soldiers!”

“Why not? Are we not to be friends?”

He reached out to her as he said the word friends in a low, inviting manner, once again picking up that single curl of her hair.

“Nothing has been decided,” she pointed out, her voice catching as his nearness overwhelmed her.

What was the matter with her? Why wasn’t she shoving him away and telling him to keep his distance?

Because she could not afford the affront it would cause, she knew. She could not risk insulting him. But it was clear he had no qualms about risking insult to her.

For Raja Sin’s part, he found himself uniquely attracted to the flame-haired beauty that co-ruled her species. She was beautiful, but not in the way the women of his tribes were in the least. Kiltian women were strong and sturdy, full of fight and fierceness. She was just as fierce as any Kiltian woman he was realizing. It was just a matter of stirring her to passion.

And her passion was her people. As it should be. But he wondered what other passions he could incite within her. Would she be as tempestuous as the power she wielded? As fierce and as hot? Would she scald him to touch her, even though he was impervious to burning?

He became hard just thinking about it.

He suddenly wished they were alone. They may as well have been for all they were paying attention to the others, but it was not what he wanted. For he knew if he grabbed her right then there would be her guard to deal with and it would dissolve all headway between their peoples instantly.

She was not worth that.

But very nearly so.

She was pale. So pale he could see the light blue veins beneath her skin in places. She wore a long gown, the fabric light and airy, the top layer white and see through and showing the pea green of the gown beneath it. That fabric too was nearly transparent. But the lacework on the next layer of the dress kept all of her charms hidden from his eyes, save where the low square of her neckline allowed him an unimpeded view of her rather significant cleavage. He suspected her nipples were not much further down than what was exposed.

The thought did nothing to cure the rigid state of his body.

He reached out to her then, because he could not help himself, and picked up her hand. He tucked it onto his arm, covering her hand with his and holding it in place as they turned and began walking again.

“If you will not show me where your men train and I will not shop in your stores, what are we to do?”

“There are many ways to entertain,” she said, trying to tug her hand free. He would not let her. “We could attend the circus. Or perhaps a matinee of one of the plays. Tonight there will be an opera if you care to join us.”

“An opera?”

“Where people sing and tell a story.”

“Hmm. Yes. I shall go to this
opera
. We have bards where we come from as well. Many crowd into a room to hear bardsong.”

“I think you will enjoy it,” she said, giving her hand another tug.

He wasn't going to let her get away. He may only be able to touch her hand, but for now it would be enough. One day in the future, however, he would have her. He did not know when or even how such a thing might be accomplished, but he knew if he adhered to the ways of his culture all things were possible.

Yes, he thought.

One day, in the future, he would have her.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After the doctor left them, declaring that Dendri was healing nicely on his arm and yes, he agreed, undisturbed rest would do much to heal his mind and body and yes, he should remain in bed for as long as he could manage…without exerting his majic, Dendri and Yasra were left alone.

Dendri slid over in the bed and patted the pillow next to him.

“Oh no. I’m not getting within arms reach of you,” she said emphatically.

He patted the pillow more firmly, his look direct and unyielding.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I wish to talk with you.”

“I can talk from here.”

“I wish to hold you to me while we talk.”

She wasn’t sure if that sounded delicious or harrowing. She eyed him skeptically. Eventually, after several long minutes where he held her in an unwavering gaze, she relented. Kicking off her slippers, she climbed into the bed.

“Under the covers where it’s warmer,” he said.

“I am wearing my shawl,” she deflected. But it was tempting. He was so warm and the room was so chill.

“Then do it to keep me warm. You do not want me catching chill do you?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. Giving up entirely, she wriggled beneath the bedclothes and snuggled up against his right side. All of the bandages that had been over the punctures left by the porcelain had been removed, the doctor declaring them healed enough to do best in the open air. She gently fingered one of the worst wounds.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Hardly at all. I can divert the pain now. My other arm included.”

“You shouldn’t be exerting with majic,” she said with a frown.

“That’s like saying I shouldn’t breathe. The use of majic, you will find in time, becomes reflexive. It comes without much thought or conscious prodding.”

“I look forward to a time when that is true for me,” she said wistfully. “Right now it feels as though I will never learn anything.”

“This is not true,” he insisted. “Look at how much you have learned already. You have learned how to protect yourself and have shown skill in all the houses. All that remains is an individual instruction in each house and practice of each skill.”

“That’s all, hmm?” she asked sarcastically.

He smiled at her with a lift of one corner of his lips. “Yes, there is much to learn, but you are a natural at majic. It will all come easy for you. All you require now is opportunity to learn.”

She sighed and snuggled even closer to his side.

“I hope you are correct. I would hate to disappoint you.”

At that he went still. Then he reached down and, catching her chin in the fingers of his left hand, he tipped her head back and made her look into his eyes.

“You could never disappoint me. You are a delight to me. You…I feel…” He hesitated for so long she didn’t think he would finish the thought. “I feel I have been a selfish being where you are concerned. I have taken much from you without stopping to assess how you are feeling. It has been quite brutish of me.”

“No,” she whispered with feeling. Then more strongly, “No! You have not been brutish. You have been wonderful. You have given so much of yourself. Your time, your money, your patience and goodwill. You didn’t have to take me, and Bess and Bicky in, but you did. You made room for us in your life without batting a single lash of your eye. You put such faith in the Gestalt…and in me. I have been very lucky and I am well aware of it. I am so grateful to you that I—“

“I do not want you to be grateful to me,” he snapped suddenly. His brow furrowed in clear disturbance. “I do not want you to deal with me out of some sense of gratitude.”

“Deal with you?” she echoed, trying to understand why her gratitude would make him so irate. “I owe you everything! Of course I am grateful.”

“You owe me nothing,” he said, growing increasingly irritable. “There is no debt here. You do not have to return favors to me with…” He halted and suddenly he was out of the bed, pacing the floor in his bare feet. He came around the foot of the bed as she sat up.

“Come back here! Get back into bed!”

He ran an agitated hand through his hair as he obviously ignored her. She leapt out of bed, her feet on the cold floor as she stepped into the path of his restless circuit.

“Dendri! You promised!”

He stopped when her body blocked his, reaching out to grab her by her arms and giving her an almost imperceptible shake.

“Do you come to my bed out of gratitude?” he demanded to know.

She was so stunned her mouth dropped open in her shock. It took her too much time to recover and he cursed viciously, let her go, and began to pace away from her. The removal of his hands shocked her into action and she came back into his path and threw herself against his body to stop him, her hands going to his chest.

“I do not give myself to you as repayment of debt!”

The declaration gave him pause, but it did not clear the trouble from his eyes.

“I don’t believe you. I think you feel gratitude toward me and, perhaps without realizing it, feel it is my due to give me what I want. I have taken from you heedlessly. Without thought. Without care. Without so much as a conversation to make certain we both want the type of relationship we should be having.”

“What type of relationship is that?” she asked, suddenly very curious to know the answer to that. She had questioned herself about that quite often. Just what type of relationship was this? What did she mean to him?

Suddenly she regretted the question. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want him to treat their relationship dismissively. She didn’t want to hear him calculate quite coldly how much she did not mean to him.

“A…a respectful one,” he said. She saw him wince. “A mature one. One where either party knows not to expect more from the other than he is willing to give.”

Ah, there it was. Dendri was putting her at a perfunctory distance. He was dismissing any possibility of feelings between them.

It was much too late for that, she realized painfully. Regardless of what he felt, regardless of all of the warnings she had given to herself, she had come to care for him.

No. That was too tame for what she felt.

She had come to adore him.

No. That was not right either. That connoted an act of adulation. And while she did revere him to a certain degree, her feelings were not like those of the many fanatics who followed his life from afar, worshipping his every act.

She loved him.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach, a sudden rush of fear and dread overcoming her. When had this happened? When had she let this happen? She had known all along that he would never be able to tolerate a woman who became overly attached to him. Gestalt or no, it was clear that closeness made him uncomfortable. If it didn’t, then why would he not have had at least one lasting relationship over the many years she had been reading about his love life? And his present words were making it very clear indeed.

She swallowed hard, forcing her face to remain expressionless; forcing it to not reflect the painful hurt she was feeling just then.

“I am able to be mature,” she lied. “I am not going to foolishly assign emotion where I know there cannot be any.”

It was what Dendri wanted to hear. So why did he not feel relieved? He instead felt a tearing sensation within his chest.

This is wrong. This is so wrong!

Yet he said nothing to the contrary. He tamped down the rebellious feelings, forcing them under his control.

“Good,” he said. “So long as you do not come to me out of some sense of obligation and as long as we are both aware that this is to be the sort of relationship where one or the other of us can leave at any time without causing undue hurt to the other, then we can continue on as we have been.”

Every word was like a nail in her heart, but she bore the brunt of them far better than she would have thought herself capable of. She managed to keep her feet despite the weakness of her knees. She managed not to shove him away from herself in anger and pain.

“Now get back into bed,” she said softly. She was impressed by the evenness of her tone. “Please.”

He gave her a queer little smile, but then did as she asked. He held her hand and tried to pull her back down to his side, but she resisted.

“I have forgotten I needed to see Bess about something. I must go to her.”

“Right this minute?” he asked.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised him, although she didn’t know how she would ever be able to be in the same room with him again.

She withdrew her hand and left the room. She began to run the moment she was out of his sight. She began to search for Bess frantically, her eyes and nose burning with unshed tears. She searched their room. The morning room. All of the parlors. She finally found Bess in the library, sitting reading a book with Bicky in her lap. Yasra fell to her knees before her and reached across her lap to draw her into a desperate hug. Then she burst into heart-wrenching sobs.

Squashed between their bodies, Bicky jumped down with a meow of complaint at having his nap disturbed. Neither woman noticed.

“There there,” Bess soothed her for several minutes. “What is it?”

Bess suspected she already knew what the trouble was. She had been anticipating this. She knew her friend far too well.

“I love him,” Yasra sobbed. “I’m such a fool but I love him!”

“It’s all right,” Bess said softly, her hand rubbing Yasra’s back gently. She let her have her cry out.

It was quite some time before she quieted, eventually sitting low enough for her head to rest in Bess’s lap while her friend stroked her hair. “Now we must consider what you will do next.”

“What can I do? There’s nothing to be done.”

“There is. You can either continue the relationship, loving him in vain and hoping one day he might return your feelings, or you can do so living perpetually with the knowledge that you love a man who is incapable of loving you back. Or…or you can end the relationship right now, allow yourself to mourn, and then move on with your life.”

None of those options sounded good to Yasra. The only one with the slightest bit of hope to it was the first in her opinion. Perhaps he would come to care for her one day. If there was the slightest bit of hope, shouldn’t she chase it down? If she truly loved him, shouldn’t she take the risk?

Or should she just resign herself to the knowledge that he was unable to love another? Oh, he would care for her. She could see that. He cared for a lot of people. Wil…his servants…his country. But she wanted more than that.

But was it better to have some of him then none at all? What would she do without his vital body next to hers?

Oh, how had this happened? How, in just a few days, had she come to feel so strongly? Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps it was merely fascination. Infatuation. Yes. That was it. Infatuation faded with time. It felt less keen. Especially as the faults of the object of that infatuation were revealed.

“I do not love him,” she said woodenly. “I am merely obsessed with him because he has filled my every waking moment these past days. Because he is such an incredible lover and makes me feel…oh Bess. He makes me feel so stunningly good. No. Good is too tame a word for it. Rapturous. Yes. Rapture is what I feel at his hands. I am mistaking that for love.”

“That is very possible,” Bess agreed, her hand stilling in her hair. “But it is also possible that those feelings will easily be converted into actual love. If they have not already done so.”

“Oh Bess. How can I help but love him? He is perfect. He is powerful and strong, in both body and spirit. He gives respect where it is due and demands he is respected in return. He is a master of all he surveys here on this estate, and cares deeply for the well being of all those who are under his protection. He gives selflessly. Acts stubbornly. Even his stubbornness is worth loving because he is usually acting stubbornly on the behalf of others. I see his goodness reflected in his friends. Bess, his kindness and acceptance toward you have been exemplary and thoughtful. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Indeed, he is a paragon,” Bess said with a wry smile as her friend’s emotions and reason vacillated almost illogically. One moment she was convincing herself she did not love him, the next she was defending all the reasons why she should. Bess’s heart ached for her friend. She was in love with the man. Bess had seen it coming. She had known how open and large Yasra’s heart was. How dehydrated of love it was. Like a sponge it had been begging for the waters of love so that it could rapidly soak them up. All it had taken was kindness and passion from a single dynamic force. She had been ripe and Dendri had plucked her.

Damn the man.

Bess held no illusions however. As loveable as she found Yasra to be, it was rare for others to see what a treasure she was. For a man like Dendri who had no interest in even considering the emotion, well…it had been a disaster in the making.

“You do not need to decide your actions right away,” Bess said. “Take some time to think on the matter.”

“But…how can I return to him and keep myself from confessing all?”