Page 54 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

‘I spurn Delicia because she has twisted a past dalliance into something that I am now beholden to, without my consent – and she knows it.’ Thierre hesitated, his hand on the bronze doorknob. ‘Cahra…’ He sighed. ‘I am not sure what is between us.’

‘But Thierre, she’s aKolyathcommoner. Surely, you knew that Father and Mother would never agree?’

‘Of course I knew,’ he hissed. ‘That is not the point.’

Sylvie yielded a small nod. ‘I suppose.’

‘How did you do it? How did you deter our parents’ meddling, when it was you?’

‘It was different for me,’ his sister told him slowly. ‘I’m not the heir to the throne. And I’ve done my duty, within the bounds of what is “appropriate”,’ she snorted, gesturing to the sword and buckler at her side, the plates of armour strapped to her body for protection. ‘But I didn’t let them dictate my choices.’

Thierre nodded. ‘Then nor shall I.’ All too suddenly, he felt so incredibly tired.

‘You should rest. You’ve had an eventful week,’ she said, and he felt the sharpness of her dark blue eyes scrutinising him. Before he could say anything, Sylvie threw her arms around him in a bear hug, strong limbs crushing his aching shoulders. Withholding a grimace, he let the smile behind it arise instead.

‘I missed you, Syl,’ Thierre said, and it was true.

His sister flashed him a roguish grin. ‘Me too,’ she said, and squeezed his arm again. Then she paused, fidgeting with the armour strapped to her forearm, her eyes darting away as a tiny crease dented the space between her eyebrows. ‘I do have one question for you—’

Thierre stifled a laugh. Two years apart, but he’d know that flustered look anywhere. ‘Out with it,’ he said, the warmth in his voice giving him away. ‘Who?’

Sylvie’s hesitation hardened into a filthy scowl. ‘How is this amusing?’

‘Because it is the only time I see you flummoxed,’ he told her, allowing a grin to surface from the depths of his infuriation at their parents.

‘Indeed,’ Sylvie said crossly, plated arms folding across her breastplate. Anyone else would have the good sense not to anger the lynx of a soldier that was his sister. Thierre, however, had been living dangerously for quite some time.

In a small voice, Sylvie asked him, ‘What do you know of Wyldaern?’

‘Little, but what I do, I will gladly share,’ he offered. ‘May we speak about it later? For now, I should like to take your advice and retire to my rooms.’ The longer he stood still, the more Thierre feared his limbs may refuse to move again.

Sylvie nodded, face eager at the prospect of learning more about the Seer. Then she glanced down the hall. ‘I should get back to Tyne. I’ll come find you before supper.’ She squeezed his shoulder, then returned to her Commander and their parents.

He watched her go, the way Sylvie moved with swift, unwavering purpose, her warrior’s boots silent against the polished floor, the only noise the faint jangle of weapons against her armour. Hehadmissed his sister. She was the only one who understood what it was like to be a child of their parents, and her support meant everything to him.

Thierre left the hall and was met by a guard of Raiden’s. He greeted the man, saying, ‘I need your help. Can you ensure our guests’ clothing is laundered and ready for them again as soon as possible? Then, I need you to convey an urgent request to Sabean for me.’ Thierre gave his instructions and the guard bowed, leaving.

Rounding a corner, Thierre glimpsed the entry leading to his private quarters and exhaled in relief at the familiar sight. Reaching his door, he stilled, touching the rosewood and savouring his first moment of safety and solitude in two long years, without the need for Raiden or his guards watching his every move. He stood at his door like that for a minute then, smiling despite the state of his personal affairs, Thierre entered his rooms.

Within an instant, the smile vanished from his face.

‘Get out,’ Thierre said flatly, the words close to a snarl.

‘Thierre,’ Delicia crooned with a toss of her blonde curls, as she reclined upon the cherry-coloured chaise in his spacious reception room. ‘Your mother is correct, is that any way to greet your fiancée?’

‘Get out before I throw you out.’

The tinkle of her teasing laughter cut the air. ‘You would not dare.’

Thierre strode for Delicia.

‘Oh!’ She giggled outright, leaping quickly to her feet in a flurry of skirts. ‘Kolyath and its brutes have changed you! Or your new peasant friends.’ So, she had noticed Cahra. Thierre clamped his mouth shut. ‘My darling heart, the charity I might comprehend,’ Delicia mused, then looked him up and down. ‘Your ensemble, however… By the Oracles, whatareyou wearing?’

‘You wish to speak of my attire? I am garbed in clothing appropriate to my duties: something restrained. The precise opposite of whatever that is,’ he retorted, waving his hand in the direction of her corseted gown, tailored purposefully, he knew, to accentuate her figure. The same ploys as years before. She had not changed.

‘I will have you know that Lord Kenley was most appreciative—’

‘Go marry him, then,’ Thierre muttered, cutting her off.

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