Page 3 of River of Flames

By the time the plane bumped down in Chicago, I was starting to feel like I had the hang of this flying thing. I wanted to high-five my seatmate, but she was pulling her suitcase out of the overhead compartment and seemed to have forgotten I existed.

Oh well. I'd be in Velarta soon enough.

The next plane was much larger, with two aisles instead of one, and five seats across the middle. "Hi," I said to the snowy-haired woman in the middle seat of my row. "I think I have the window, there."

She looked up at me, her blue eyes glittering. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her lips parted as though she was about to speak; for one odd moment it almost seemed as though she recognized me. I had a flash of panic as I tried to recall if I'd met her before, but before I could wonder further, the strange expression was replaced by a bright smile. "Of course," she said, maneuvering to her feet and moving aside so I could slide into my seat.

"Been to Palia before, dear?" she asked, as she settled back in. She had an accent I couldn't quite identify, but then, my knowledge of the Baltic languages was limited to the ones that had died out a few centuries prior.

The capital city of Velarta was a popular tourist destination, but the dig site was much more rural. I shook my head. "I've never been to Velarta at all. I'm going for work."

She chuckled. "Work, work, always work with you young ones. What is it you do?"

I hesitated for a moment, but she hardly seemed the type to make an Indiana Jones joke. "I'm an archaeologist," I said finally.

"Ah." A knowing nod, and a flash of something in her eyes. "Kulmeira, then."

Although the name of the dig site was on every map of Velarta, an inexplicable chill went down my spine at her words. "You know it?"

"Oh, no," the old woman said, looking away from me. "Hardly anyone does. Not anymore."

What on earth did that mean? I glanced down, and was momentarily distracted by the sparkling band on the third finger of her left hand: three enormous rubies, each encircled by a halo of diamonds.

She saw me looking and tipped the trio of stones toward me, sending flashes of light scattering this way and that over the fuselage. "For protection," she said. "You might consider one, if you're going to Kulmeira."

I blinked, my mouth half open. I wanted to ask her more, but she turned away and tipped her head back against the seat, clearly intending to nap. Just a tired, eccentric old lady, that was all. I had bigger things to worry about.

I gazed out the window as the plane gathered speed, and closed my eyes as the ground fell away. My head was starting to hurt. Maybe just a little rest, and then I'd get to work on the data I'd brought. I yawned. Just a few minutes…

I woke up with an ache in my neck that rivaled the pounding in my head. My eyes felt gritty, and my mouth tasted like I'd been gnawing on my towel. How long had I been asleep?

"Did you have a nice rest?"

I pried my eyes open and straightened in my seat, even though my neck screamed in protest. My tray table had been lowered, and a foil-covered rectangle had been placed on it. I smelled something rich and buttery. My seatmate was watching me with a slight smile on her lined face.

I blinked at her, then looked down at my watch. What time had we taken off? Had I really been asleep for four hours?

"I—yes," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't even introduce myself. I'm River."

The woman nodded. "Very nice to meet you, River. You may call me Ona."

I peeled back the foil, and the delicious scent intensified. In one small compartment was a serving of rice, studded with tiny cubes of tomato and topped with a sprinkle of dried parsley. In another were three small brown lumps that resembled misshapen meatballs. I unwrapped my fork and poked at one. “What is this?”

"Kotletes," Ona said.

She was clearly waiting for me to try some, so I speared one of the kotletes and took a tentative bite. "Hey," I said. "This is good!"

"You were expecting otherwise?" Ona said dryly.

"No, no,” I amended hurriedly. "It's just that my friend always said—"

The thought of Theo made my stomach flip. What would he be doing right now? And why did I care? "I mean," I said, "I was told that airplane food wasn't that good."

"The rest, nothing to write home about." Ona poked at a plastic-wrapped dinner roll. "You wait until Palia. The best you've ever had." She closed her eyes and tapped her lips with one lacquered forefinger.

The best you've ever had. Immediately my thoughts went to Theo again: the feeling of his skin against mine, the trail of his tongue along my throat. Fuck. What was wrong with me? This was Theo, for God's sake.

"Ow!" I was so lost in my thoughts that I'd bitten my lip. I hurriedly swallowed the bite of kotletes and dabbed at the injured spot with a flimsy paper napkin. It came away dotted with scarlet. "Damn it."

---