King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (19 page)

Then Dara’s father turned and strode directly out of the castle gates. Lima followed, and neither one looked back to find their daughter.

“How’s that for a show!” came a jovial voice. Siv had recovered faster than everyone else, and he was clapping vigorously. “Magnificent display. It’s a new era in Vertigon!”

The crowd turned as one toward the king, awe and delight on their faces, and joined their applause to his. Now
that
had been a spectacle.

“On to the duel!” Siv said. “First up we have Bilzar Ten, the celebrated champion of the Square Tourney for two years running, facing former soldier Telvin Jale, one of Vertigon’s own noble defenders. Who will be victorious?”

Bilzar launched into an eloquent recitation of his many talents as the carnival-goers surged forward to watch the duel. As far as they knew, it was all part of the show.

Dara breathed raggedly, relief surging through her. She didn’t dare approach Zage. His face was bone white, and he looked as if he’d fall over if anyone so much as said hello. She had never seen anything like that. The level of power it must have taken for Zage to pull all the Fire from the courtyard without hurting anyone was almost unfathomable.

And if she knew anything about her father, the gauntlet had been thrown down.

Dara returned to the castle steps, where the king was busy refereeing the duel and adding his commentary, much to the spectators’ amusement. He raised an eyebrow at her as if to ask if she knew anything about the unexpected fiery display. She shrugged and took her place amongst the Guards. There would be time to fill him in later—and time to decide how much he actually needed to know.

But one thing was certain: she wanted to learn how to do what Zage had done. To have the ability to neutralize her father like that and wrench that dangerous power away from him would be a priceless talent. She would work day and night until she had something approaching that level of control.

The carnival lasted late into the evening. Siv was in good form, laughing and toasting nobles and tradesmen, guards and ladies, children and servants alike. He played every game and tried every dish, and by the end Dara was sure he had spoken to every individual in the courtyard. Then as darkness fell he gathered the New Guard around him and left the castle walls to join the revelers outside the gates. He strode among his people, a beacon of energy and humor and light. By the time midnight neared, he had established himself as the People’s King, the Fourth Good King, who wasn’t too good to drink with his subjects, referee duels for his guards, and give children piggyback rides while they laughed and screamed and clutched at his crown.

It was a night that the people of Vertigon would surely remember for years to come. It was the night that King Siv was born.

Dara stayed close by his side, watching for threats and monitoring her men, but also just watching him. He was doing so well. He had worked hard over the past few weeks. She knew his father’s death still weighed on him, but she also knew he was a man the people could love. He would do anything for them. And Dara would do anything for him.

The last of the revelers didn’t leave until dawn spread fingers of light through the mists. Siv ordered the castle serving men and women to go get a few hours of sleep and forget about cleaning up until later. Then as the last of a rowdy troop of bridge carpenters toasted the king and lurched toward their beds, he finally turned back to his castle.

Dara had already sent most of the Guard back to the barracks. She warned them they would still have to train, but told them they could sleep in for a few hours at least. The princesses had been ordered to bed when they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. Their mother had long since disappeared as well. Dara and Pool were the last ones left to make sure the king got safely to his rooms.

Siv hummed as they entered the castle and began the long climb up the stairs to his chambers. He’d had a lot to drink with all the toasts throughout the night, but his steps were straight and sure. When they reached the doorway leading to the solitary, fully protected stairwell to the top of the king’s tower, Siv stopped.

“You’re dismissed, Pool,” he said. “Dara can see me the rest of the way home.”

“If you are certain . . .”

“I’ll make sure the door guards check his chambers for intruders before I leave,” Dara said.

“Thank you, Miss Ruminor.” Pool didn’t quite hide a huge yawn. “I hope you will allow yourself a lengthy repose as well.”

“I will.”

Pool nodded to them both and left to seek his own bed. Dara and Siv continued up the winding stairwell alone.

“Any word on Bolden?” Siv asked after Pool was gone.

“He was missing for a while, possibly snooping around the castle,” Dara said. She hadn’t had a chance to check in with Kel yet to find out what Bolden had been up to. “Yeltin saw him and his father leave the grounds before dark, though.”

“So he won’t be hiding under my bed, then? That’s a relief.”

“No.”

“Any idea what was with that big Fire show? I didn’t get a chance to ask Zage.”

“The Fire Warden has a flair for the dramatic,” Dara said.

Siv chuckled. “You’ve noticed too? I wish I’d thought of it myself. It was spectacular.”

“The whole evening was spectacular,” Dara said. “You did well today.”

“Why thank you.” Siv sounded genuinely pleased. “Careful, Dara, you’re going to spoil me with all these compliments.”

Dara smiled back at him, and they climbed the stairs in companionable silence. Dara was so tired she couldn’t contemplate making any big revelations tonight. Zage had averted disaster with her father for now. She would redouble her efforts to learn the Work, and she would find a way to deter his ambitions. But tonight she was just happy to walk in silence.

Or at least, it was mostly silent. As they neared the top of the tower and the entrance to Siv’s chambers, a strange noise made its way down toward them. It was a wet sound, like smacking, mixed with the occasional soft moan.

“Is that—?”

“Shh,” Siv said. He stopped Dara with a hand on her arm and listened for a moment. Then he winked, an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes, and crept up a few more steps.

He flattened himself against the wall and edged further around the stairwell, one step at a time. Then he pulled back.

“Let’s not interrupt them,” he said, grinning widely. He tiptoed back down a few steps.

Dara edged forward so she could peek around the bend as well.

Oat and Luci were on guard duty on the landing outside the king’s door. They had their arms wrapped around each other, and they were engaged in a rather vigorous kissing session. As far as Dara could tell they weren’t doing more than kissing, but they definitely were
not
watching the door. Someone could walk right up and run the two of them through with a single blade, and they probably wouldn’t notice. At least they were leaning against the door, so no one could get into the king’s chambers without disturbing them.

Dara was preparing her best imitation of Berg’s scolding voice when she felt a tug on her ankle. Siv had slid down to sit on the steps out of sight of the two guards.

“Give them a minute,” he whispered.

“They should be—”

“I know,” Siv said. “No harm done. We’ve all had a big night. Let them have their moment.”

Dara frowned, but she obeyed and walked down to sit on the step beside Siv.

“You are the king.”

“Indeed I am.” Siv folded his arms on top of his knees and settled in as if he expected a long wait.

Dara studied him. The gray of dawn feathered the sky outside the tower window, but it wasn’t enough light to leave more than vague shadows across Siv’s face. His profile looked strong tonight. Kingly. He seemed years older than when they had first met.

But when the kissing sounds coming from a few steps above them grew more enthusiastic he still snickered like teenager.

“I am never assigning them guard duty together again,” Dara whispered.

“Probably a good choice.”

“Do you think the New Guard made the right impression, though?” she asked.

“They’re perfect, Dara.” Siv pulled off his crown, which had fallen sideways on his head, and turned it between his long fingers. “A few of the nobles made snide remarks about them, but they’re working out exactly as I hoped. And that exhibition match was a stroke of brilliance.”

“Good,” Dara said.

“I feel very safe indeed,” Siv said. “As long as those two up there aren’t guarding me together. They’re probably about as useful as a pair of pelicans when it comes to guard duty.”

“I’ll deal with them,” Dara said darkly, making Siv chuckle again.

“So the people will love you after tonight,” she said. “How about your Lady Tull? Do you think she’s leaning toward saying yes to you?”

“I have no idea,” Siv said. Then he turned toward her suddenly, startling her with the intensity in his eyes. “You’re the only woman I look at, Dara.”

She froze. “Siv . . .”

“I know I shouldn’t say it. I know what I have to do, what my duty is.” Siv took a ragged breath, pinning her with his gaze. “But, Dara, I can’t even
see
anyone else when you’re there.”

Dara struggled against a sudden, desperate desire to throw herself into his arms. The sounds of the amorous activities above didn’t help. Not one bit. Her hands found the cold stone of the castle steps, growing warm in an instant.

“We can’t,” she whispered.

“I know,” Siv said. “But I had to say it at least once. And do this.”

He leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, sweet with the spices of mulled wine. Dara didn’t move. It felt like sweet droplets of Fire were falling on her lips.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. Their faces were so close together. Dara could feel his breath on her lips. She could barely move for the heat rushing through her. She wanted more. She wanted him. The kingdom and the mountain and the Fire and the world ceased to exist for an instant.

Dara grabbed Siv’s coat and pulled him closer for another kiss. Fire burst in her mouth and roared through her body, and she didn’t know if it was actually Fire or if it was just heat, the heat that had been slowly burning and building within her for she didn’t know how long.

Siv’s crown clattered out of his hands, ringing against the steps and rolling away from him as he put his hands in Dara’s hair and drew her closer. All she could feel was his arms around her, his lips against hers, and the heat that filled her and threatened to burn her away into nothing.

There was no sound, no sight, no sensation but the warmth and the softness and the heat of his kiss.

Then something clicked in her like a sudden crack of ice. No sound. She pulled away from Siv and put her fingertips against his mouth. He began to kiss them one by one, and she wanted to melt into the feeling, but she forced herself to listen. The noises from farther up the stairwell had stopped.

“The crown,” Dara mouthed, and she nodded toward the stairwell where the two guards had grown very quiet indeed.

Siv seemed to come to his senses with a great deal of effort. “Right. They probably heard that.” He leapt to his feet and darted down the steps to where the crown had come to rest. He stuffed it back on his head and started to hum loudly, stomping up the stairs for the benefit of the guards above. “I’m so tired,” he said, and executed the loudest, most theatrical yawn Dara had ever heard.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dara said, not quite hiding her own breathlessness.

Siv grinned and pulled her in for one more too-brief kiss before he continued up the stairs.

“Oh, hello there, Guards,” he said as they reached the landing.

“Your Majesty.”

Oat and Luci stood at attention, their uniforms mostly straightened. Luci’s cheeks blazed red. The pair looked deeply relieved that they hadn’t been caught. As far as Dara could tell, they hadn’t seen what had just happened a few steps below them and around the corner. Dara could hardly believe it herself.

“Anything to report?” she asked.

“No, Dar—ma’am,” Oat said. “All quiet up here.”

“Good. Do another sweep of His Majesty’s chambers before he enters. Be quick about it.”

Oat and Luci saluted and hurried into the king’s rooms while Dara and Siv waited on the landing. He smiled and stepped toward her as soon as the guards were through the door.

She stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“We can’t,” she said.

“I know,” Siv said. “I burning know what we can and can’t do, Dara.”

There was torment in his eyes for an instant, and Dara knew they had made a mistake. This would only make things harder. They couldn’t do this again.

But a glint of mischief replaced the torment in Siv’s eyes. Before she could react, he slid a hand around her waist and spun her so her back was to the closed chamber door. He put a hand on the doorknob so the guards couldn’t open it without alerting him and leaned in for one more—very thorough—kiss.

By the time Oat and Luci reemerged and reported that all was well, Dara could barely stand up. She ordered them to keep a close watch and then bid the king good night. He gave her a devilish wink as he closed the door.

18.

The Queen

SIV
slept like a velgon bear in winter that night. Noon was long past by the time he awoke. He had a hangover, and his mouth was dry as Far Plains dust, but he still hummed to himself as he washed and dressed for the day.

He had kissed Dara! More than once. In the harsh light of the next day, he didn’t regret it one bit. He should be assessing all the important things he had accomplished by making an impression on his people the night before, but all he could think about was when he would get to kiss her again. It should be easy enough. He could ask to speak to her about very important royal business without the other guards around. As long as they were in a safe room the others would think nothing of leaving them alone together. Or maybe they could sneak out through the secret tunnel and go for a walk on the bridges.