King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (6 page)

“Then why didn’t he tell you straight off?”

“I’m not sure. This thing could be a lot bigger than we thought that first time we were attacked.”

Dara looked up and met Siv’s eyes. A bit of color suffused her cheeks, and Siv wondered if she was remembering the same things he was about that night. He had held her for the first time that night, right before he was almost murdered. He had very nearly kissed her.

Firelord take him, but he wanted to kiss her again. The sun dipped lower, setting the mist creeping up the slopes alight. The mountainside blazed gold and red, and the dying sunlight caught in Dara’s golden hair.

With a rather kingly effort, Siv pulled his eyes away from her and resumed his frenetic pacing. It wouldn’t be fair to kiss her now. Not when he couldn’t offer her anything more than that. He had already asked her to devote herself to the Castle Guard knowing it would take her away from dueling, the thing she loved most. He had no right to ask anything more of Dara Ruminor, not even a kiss.

So something was going on, and Berg knew about it. Siv shook his head. He should think about Berg, with his grumbling voice and his gruff, square face. Think about Berg, not the gorgeous woman standing almost within arms reach.

He imagined that strange practice bout again and the white-hot rage he had felt when Berg cut Dara’s arm.

“I don’t think you should go out there tonight,” he said.

“What?”

“With Berg,” Siv said. “I don’t think you should meet up with him in the middle of the night. We don’t actually know whose side he’s on.”

Dara frowned. Damn, she was even pretty when she was frowning.

“If Berg was going to do something to me, he’s had a thousand chances,” she said. “He could have tossed me into the Fissure as we left the Firesmith, and no one would have known. I should see what he wants to show me.”

She was right. They needed something new, some sort of breakthrough if they were going to find whoever had orchestrated his father’s death. Even if that meant putting Dara at risk. He glared at the table set for his romantic meal, wishing he could call it off. If only he could go along to make sure Dara was safe. She could take care of herself, but he would feel better if he could watch her back.

“Report to me as soon as you return to the castle,” Siv said. “I don’t care how late it is. I want to know you’re safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dara said. “Besides, are you sure you won’t be busy late tonight?”

Her gaze dropped to the romantic table setting, and Siv winced. He had made no secret of his plans for the evening. Of course she knew he was entertaining a noble lady shortly. Worse, she would understand completely what his end goal had to be with Lady Tull.

“Even if Pool has to pull me by the toes from my bed, I insist on being informed when you return,” Siv said. “Besides, you’ll have way more fun sneaking around than I will here.”

He gave a rueful smile, and to his relief Dara answered it.

“I’ll do my best to have more fun than you,” she said. Her normally serious face softened as she met his eyes. Her hair fell in wisps from her braid, and the sun caught them like tendrils of Firegold. The curve of her lips and the intensity of her eyes nearly drove him mad. She couldn’t possibly know the effect she had on him. She looked so beautiful he wanted to—

“Berg!” Siv gasped.
Think about ugly old Berg. Don’t think about Dara.

She raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“Uh . . . ask Berg if he’s heard of any dueling schools where the owner of our Fire Blade may have trained. They could be turning out athletes who are a bit too comfortable using deadly force.”

“I’ll ask,” Dara said.

“Good. Be careful. And don’t forget to tell me when you’re back.”

Dara snapped off a salute and headed for the door, ever the professional. Siv watched the door long after she closed it behind her.

5.

Encounters

DARA
crossed paths with Lady Tull Denmore on her way out of the tower. Though they had met before, the noblewoman didn’t even glance at her as she swept up the stairs toward her dinner with the king. She was a small woman, but she looked positively regal in an elegant blue dress with a modest cut, her hair piled on top of her head in an intricate style that must have taken hours.

Dara hurried past, ignoring the dull pain that sprang up in her gut at the sight of Lady Tull. She had no reason to be wary—and certainly no reason to be jealous. Lady Tull would make a charming Queen of Vertigon. And Siv had been so sad since his father died. He deserved to have someone who brought him joy. Not that Dara was convinced he had chosen Tull because she made him happy. Siv was doing what he had to for the good of the kingdom. His own feelings couldn’t be his main priority. Dara understood that better than anybody.

Still, she couldn’t help replaying her few moments alone with Siv as she descended through the tower. Their closeness. The brush of his arm sending a slow blaze across her skin. Just the two of them facing that fiery sunset view. What would happen if she ever told him she felt like burning to a cinder when he looked at her the way he sometimes did? He didn’t think she noticed it, but it was all she could do to keep from stepping into his arms when he looked at her like that.

But there was no point in thinking about what could never be. Dara adjusted her new Castle Guard uniform, which had just arrived from the tailor that morning, and straightened her shoulders. She had taken on this duty to atone for her father’s actions, not to steal moments alone with Siv. She was a guardswoman, and the king had a duty to select an appropriate queen.

When Dara rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairwell, she almost bumped into Fenn Hurling. In her mid-thirties, the muscular red-haired bodyguard was almost as large as her twin brother, Denn. Fenn folded her arms, the polished buttons of her coat winking, and stared down at her. Dara muttered an apology, but it didn’t ease the disapproving scowl on Fenn’s face.

Fortunately, Princess Selivia popped out from behind her a second later.

“Dara! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hello, Princess. How are you?” Dara couldn’t help smiling whenever she ran into the young princess. Not yet fourteen, Selivia was a bubbling cauldron of enthusiasm ready to overflow at any moment. Some of that joyous energy had been missing since her father died, but she seemed in good spirits today.

“I saw Lady Tull!” Selivia said. “Her dress is so lovely. Did you see it?”

“Yes.”

“Siv wouldn’t let me set up the parlor for him. He said I would make it too girly.”

“I’m sure it would have been beautiful,” Dara said. “It looks nice, though. I just came from there.”

“Where are you going now?” Selivia walked with Dara down the wide corridor, her slippers whispering on the marble floor. Selivia had abandoned her black gowns the second the family’s mourning period had ended. Today she wore a deep-green dress that looked like it was getting too short for her already. She would be as tall as Dara soon.

“I’m heading back to the barracks for a bit. I have to run some errands tonight,” Dara said.

“Ooh, how are the barracks? Mother never lets me explore them.”

“They’re fine,” Dara said. “A bit empty right now. I have my own room for the moment.”

“Oh, you mean you might have to share?” Selivia looked back at Fenn, who had fallen in behind them. “You could be roommates when the barracks fill up again!”

“Maybe,” Dara said. Fenn grunted noncommittally. She was the only other woman on the guard, but Dara hadn’t forgotten that Fenn had been nowhere in sight when the princess was kidnapped a month ago. Supposedly one of the turncoat guards had hit her over the head, but that could have been orchestrated to keep Fenn in the castle if things went poorly. Dara had to be cautious with her trust.

“Can I come see your room, Dara?” Selivia asked. “Please!”

“I don’t think—”

“I’ll end up sneaking over there anyway. Better for you to take me now than when there are a bunch of new guardsmen making them all smelly.”

Dara chuckled. “You might have a point.”

“Excellent. Fenn, don’t tell your brother.”

“Yes, my lady,” Fenn said, her tone surprisingly indulgent.

Dara led the way down the corridor leading to the back courtyard, which separated the castle from the guard barracks. It was strange to have the run of the place. Dara had been able to see this castle from the window of her room in her parents’ home for her entire childhood. She had never imagined she would one day live within its walls.

When they were almost to the back courtyard, a dark-robed figure loomed into their path. Selivia gave a little squeak, and Dara put a hand to her blade.

“Evening,” said a dry, papery voice. It was Zage Lorrid, the Fire Warden. He stared down at them, his face egg white and grim. A bit of silver glinted at his throat.

“Oh, Warden, you scared me,” Selivia said.

“Where are you going, Princess?”

“Dara is showing me the Guard barracks,” Selivia said.

Zage frowned, his dark eyes glittering. “I don’t think that’s wise in light of the tragedies your family has faced of late.”

“I’m tired of sitting in my room,” Selivia said. “Dara will protect me, like she did before.”

Zage looked Dara up and down. “I suppose she did.” He kept staring, and Dara wasn’t sure whether to look away or not. She got the sense that Zage knew every thought in her head and every worry she’d ever had. She shivered. Did he know what had happened with Farr? No, that was impossible. No one had been around to see it.

Dara remembered what Berg always said about making eye contact before a duel: the first person to look away lost. She held Zage’s gaze. The Fire Warden didn’t blink, didn’t waver, but neither did Dara. This was the man who had killed her sister. Over ten years ago, he had unleashed a surge of Fire through the mountain that had burned right through Renna as she was learning to Work. Zage’s name had long been a curse in Dara’s household. She couldn’t forget it, even though they were supposedly loyal to the same family now.

“We’ll be quick, Warden,” Selivia said, apparently not bothered by the staring match. She tried to edge past Zage to reach the outer door. “I’m finished with my lessons for the day.”

Zage finally turned from Dara and looked down at the young princess.

“Perhaps I should accompany you,” he said, his expression softening unexpectedly. There was affection there. And concern. He didn’t want the princess to be in danger. The realization threw Dara off balance.

“I’ll show you the barracks another time, Princess,” she said.

“But—”

“I promise.”

“Fine.” Selivia sighed dramatically. “Let’s go to the kitchens, Fenn, and see if they’ve made any special desserts for Lady Tull’s visit.”

Zage waited until the princess and her bodyguard marched off toward the lower level of the castle before he swept away in another direction. He didn’t give Dara so much as a backward glance.

Relieved to be rid of him, Dara headed out to the barracks, a sturdy building at the edge of the back courtyard. A few practice weapons leaned against the wall, but the quiet of evening had already settled over the grounds. She mulled over Zage’s intervention as she climbed the steps to the simple portico outside her room. He clearly suspected Dara was a danger to the young princess. Siv respected Zage as a teacher and maybe even a mentor, but the man had never warmed to Dara. She had every reason to mistrust him—or at least she had until she’d thrown her lot in with the Amintelles.

Zage was her parents’ longtime political adversary too. As Fire Warden, he controlled the flow of Fire through the mountain, and they believed he wanted to keep power out of their hands by spreading it thin, leaving it diluted and unthreatening. But now that the Ruminors’ desire for power and revenge had taken a dangerous turn, had Dara found herself on Zage’s side after all?

She had questioned why her parents went after King Sevren before directly challenging the Fire Warden. She suspected it wouldn’t have been enough for them to simply kill him. They would want to obliterate him. They’d demand a public denunciation of his crime, the justice they hadn’t received ten years ago. And they wanted a new ruler, one who wouldn’t try to keep their powers in check. In that, they had failed. For now.

Dara was sure they would try again. The Ruminors wanted revenge. They wanted change. They wanted a revolution. Dara had vowed to stand in their way. She missed her sister as much as they did, but taking down the Fire Warden and every Amintelle on the mountain would not bring her back. She would do whatever it took to avert her parents’ murderous ambitions, even if that meant working alongside Zage Lorrid.

Dara’s door creaked as she returned to her room to prepare for her evening jaunt with Berg. The room was austere, with two raised cots, a small wooden table, a stone washbasin, and a few shelves for her possessions. A handful of dueling tokens, a necklace of mismatched Fire-forged beads, and the medal she had won in the Square Tourney last year were the only keepsakes she had brought to the castle. She forced down the memory of her mother screaming vitriol at her as she left her childhood home behind.

She pulled off her boots, which were still shiny and new, and sat on her cot to rub her feet. She’d switch to her old clothes for the midnight excursion. She wouldn’t want anyone to recognize a Castle Guard snooping around whatever Berg planned to show her.

Dara’s dueling gear sat unused in the corner. She avoided looking at it as much as possible. She could keep competing on Turndays when Pool hired more Castle Guards, but it would be terrible to go to tournaments and see her rivals outstripping her because they trained more. Dueling was an all-or-nothing game, and Dara had decided to give her all to another cause.

She wished she felt more confident that it had been the right decision. Did she really have a place in the castle, especially now that the king was entertaining his possible future wife?

The reminder was like a blow to the stomach. She shrugged it off and unwound her braid, running an ebony comb through her golden tresses. She had to keep her focus, just like in a competition. If Berg revealed some useful insight tonight, she might be able to stop her parents
and
whoever else was plotting against Siv. His troubles likely ran deeper than the Fireworkers. Maybe her parents were only the beginning.