Page 6 of Fear the Flames
Oh gods, I kneed the most feared warlord on the continent in the balls.
I suppress the deranged laugh that bubbles in my throat and resort to softly snickering as I grab the reins of Finnian’s horse. I shouldn’t laugh, but how can I not? The person that is scouring the continent for me had me in his clutches, and I pinned him on his back. My feet pivot in the mud, and I turn back toward Finnian, doing my best to keep my face neutral. I can’t wait till this is all over and I can tell Finnian the truth about what happened in the attic. He’ll probably fall to the floor in one of his full belly laughs.
“The army is also pissed at King Eagor for not doing something sooner,” Finnian adds. My lips press together, and I nod, leading the horses over to him while I form my next sentence in my head. I stop a few feet in front of him and mentally prepare for how he’ll react to the next thing I must bring up. It’s something we’ve discussed briefly but never in-depth since we never had a proper solution.
“I have to do something about the food supply in Aestilian.” His blue eyes grow stormy when he registers what I’m saying. Vareveth is a well-established kingdom; if I strike a deal with them, I can include sending food to Aestilian as one of the terms.
“We can find another way,” Finnian reasons.
“We’re out of time. Once the first frost hits, people are going to starve to death. The rations are already dwindling.” We send out raids every so often to bring supplies back to Aestilian. I only allow the raids to take from smugglers that are already traveling with stolen goods, but it’s never guaranteed what we’ll get. We also have hunting groups but there is too much snow in the winter for them to get out of Aestilian safely. The population continues to grow, and every day that passes by is another nail in the coffin of my sanity.
“Once you make yourself known, your father will never stop until he kills you.”
“I can’t hide forever either. Tonight made that apparent,” I state.
“They haven’t found Aestilian,” Finnian counters as his cheeks redden in anger.
“No, but there’s a chance they might.” My mind flashes to the sight only my nightmares have conjured, but it’s a sight that always has the possibility of becoming a reality. Houses and stores burned to the ground. Grief-stricken faces. My people fighting for their lives against an army with far more skill and weapons than them. Children screaming for their parents. Parents screaming for their children. “I won’t wait until someone drags me from Aestilian. I’ll leave on my own terms after I’ve bargained for a deal I want,” my voice rises to match his.
“I won’t lose another sibling!” Finnian shouts. His hands shake at his sides, and his nostrils flare. His eyes blink rapidly, fighting to keep his tears back.
My temper dwindles the longer I take in his emotions. Finnian and I can scream at each other, loud enough to wake a sleeping god, but once one of us cracks—it’s over. My hands drop the reins, and I rush toward him, wrapping my arms around his torso and placing my cheek on the slick leather that covers his chest. His chin rests on the top of my head while he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. Finnian rarely talks about the family he had before he came to Aestilian, just as I rarely talk about what happened to me in Imirath. But, sometimes, when the darkness of night conjured up memories without our consent, we were always there to hold the broken pieces of each other together.
“You won’t lose me,” I mutter into his chest.
He sharply sniffles above me, “You’ve never been the Atarah heir to me.”
That’s why I love you.
“But that’s who I am,” I softly state.
“No. You’re the girl that squishes fruit in the kitchen to make jam and gets excited over romance books,” Finnian mumbles while giving me a squeeze. I laugh softly into his chest. “I won’t watch you get locked up again.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I won’t let them,” I swear while pulling my head away from where it rests and looking into his stormy eyes that have calmed slightly. My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions at bay; I don’t want to worry him more than he already is.
I must go to the meeting.
I won’t watch Aestilian burn to the ground.
I won’t be a prisoner again.
I won’t let Finnian starve.
I want too much out of this life and have too much resting on my shoulders to cower in the dark. I may keep to the shadows, but I wield them.
“Come on,” I poke him in the chest. “Let’s get home.”
ChapterFour
The heels of my palms dig into my tired eyes before I turn over and groan into my pillow. My face stays buried here for a few seconds to avoid the light that’s streaming through my windows. I hardly slept last night, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but fatigue weighs on my tired bones and strained muscles.
Every time I dozed off, a pair of harsh eyes would bore into mine behind my eyelids. I’m meeting with the Commander of Vareveth tonight. Cayden Veles wants me, and I have no idea why. I couldn’t properly make out his features last night, so the only picture I have in my mind is a scarred shadowy face—I suppose that’ll change tonight. The clearing will have enough light for me to see him and for him to see me.
I flop onto my back and kick my covers off, tucking my feet into my red slippers before they have the chance to touch the cold wooden floor. I threw on an oversized knit sweater after I bathed last night, but I still miss the warmth of my covers as I shuffle over to the bathroom. My fingers tug the cream sleeves up to my elbows before cupping my hands under the faucet; the cold water will help me wake up. I splash it onto my face before staring into my reflection. Finnian always tells me I look intimidating to approach until I smile, then my entire face brightens up.
My tired, honey brown eyes stare back at me. I pinch my narrow cheeks to bring some color into them before reaching into my cupboard and pulling out a light rouge to dab onto my pale skin, missing the color my skin turns in the summer months. I’m still light, but the summer glow makes me feel more confident. Finnian’s always been jealous, considering he burns as soon as he steps outside, no matter how much lotion he lathers himself with.
I apply some tinted balm onto my plump lips to match my cheeks. Pulling the dark brown strands free of my braid, I idly run my fingers through the tangled waves. Once I’m satisfied, I grab my toothbrush to finish off my morning routine. I usually brush before breakfast since I never know if I’ll be pulled away to do something—coffee still in hand.
