Page 20 of Healer to the Ash King
The movement of those quick fingers stutters briefly.
“Perhaps you’d sit for a private portrait?” The hooded man’s voice is deep, rich velvet, the words rolling smooth and rounded from his lips. It’s not quite the voice I remember, but he could be altering it to suit his persona. My pulse flutters.
“I would be open to a private session,” I murmur.
“Please wait behind the booth. I’ll be there shortly.” The fingers resume their perpetual motion.
I tug Owin around to the back of the booth.
“What are we doing?” He sounds confused.
“That portrait-maker is an old friend. Is there any way you can leave me alone with him for a little while?”
Owin lifts his eyebrows. “Thatkind of friend?”
“Jealous?” I smirk at him. I already know he’s not, but I can’t help teasing.
“No,” he says. “I—you’re very beautiful, but—”
“Why don’t you go inspect the glorious physique of that fire-swallower again?” My smile broadens as Owin’s eyes flare wide. “Just for a little while.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” says Owin. “But stay right here.”
“We might go in there.” I point to a tea shop directly behind the portrait-maker’s booth. “But I won’t wander anywhere else, I promise.”
“You know what will happen to me if any harm comes to you.” Owin’s blue eyes shine soberly through the opening of his helmet.
“I’ll be careful.”
He nods and stalks away, back up the street toward the fire show.
A moment after Owin leaves, the portrait-maker comes around to the back of the booth. He catches my arm and hustles me toward the tea shop—but instead of pulling me inside, he draws me into the dark, narrow alley beside it. The space is just a crack between buildings, barely wide enough for two people to stand abreast, and there’s rubbish scattered along it, but at least it doesn’t smell.
“Rince,” I whisper. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
The man pulls off his hood.
9
With the hood discarded, Rince’s features are clearly visible—broad nose, full lips, prominent cheekbones, a jawline that tempts my fingertips. In just two years, he’s grown even more handsome. He’s lost the boyish softness of his face and gained a bold edge to his features, one that I find very enticing.
“I forgot how beautiful you are,” I whisper.
“Cailin.” He takes my wrists and slams them against the wall, and he kisses me, his soft lips stealing my breath. I hum into his mouth, my body heating, reminding me of all the things he used to do to it…. before he left me…
I pull back, breaking the kiss. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“It’s the ‘Calling of the Favored,’ love.” His teeth flash as he smiles. “Too good an opportunity to miss.”
“Then you’re here with the Undo—”
He presses his lips to mine again, cutting off the word. His tongue sweeps through my mouth, triggering a wanton tingle between my legs.
“Why are you here,mo stór? Was that a palace guard with you?” He presses soft kisses along my neck, moving down toward my shoulder.
“I’ve been conscripted as a healer for the competition,” I gasp. “Heartsfire, Rince—this is quite the welcome. I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me.”
He cups my face, his eyes burning into mine. Always so intense, those eyes, with the rabid light of purpose in them. “I had to leave you. You understand why. My beliefs are everything. The cause is everything.”
