Prince's Fire (26 page)

“You have boats,” said Celeste.

“Bridges are better,” said Rayn. “Two of our larger islands are accessible to Rul Linaran by bridge, and from those you can hop to several more. We still have some that use a ferry system, because we're not yet able to bridge them. Our engineers work constantly to better our bridge designs.”

She had never studied bridge engineering, but she was aware it was an interesting topic involving complex mathematics. Perhaps she should speak to the Inyan bridge engineers sometime.

Patricus, confident now, dashed ahead of them. He ran all the way to the end of the bridge and watched them from the new island, his ears erect and jaunty.

“Surely you don't transfer goods on this bridge,” said Celeste. “It's too narrow.”

“This is strictly a walking bridge,” said Rayn. “No goods to be transferred. The island we're heading to is called
Rul Kejaban
.”

She translated the literal Inyan. “Island of Wonders?”

“Yes, exactly. Rul Kejaban has no industry. No one lives here.”

“Why build a bridge to it?”

“You'll see,” said Rayn.

The end of the bridge was closer now. It sloped slightly upward, which made her feel more secure than when she had been heading downward to its nadir.

Finally she stepped out onto the island of Rul Kejaban. Trees, thick with hanging moss, crowded around them, and a stony dirt path headed inland—
fomedra
, she reminded herself. Patricus dashed ahead on the trail. She and Rayn followed. It was midafternoon and hot. The trees here were old, perhaps ancient. In the grounds surrounding the Kjallan palace, she had ridden through old-growth forests and cultivated forests and learned to distinguish between them. This one was old-growth and so thick that she wondered if it had ever seen an ax.

Ahead of them, Patricus gave a bark of alarm.

“Is it safe for him up there?” Celeste asked Rayn.

“Yes.”

Patricus sprinted back to them, his ears low and his tail pinned between his legs. He circled behind Celeste, whimpering. “Something scared him,” she said.

“It's all right,” said Rayn. “He saw something he didn't expect.”

Curious, she quickened her pace. They rounded a corner, and she saw what Patricus had stumbled upon: a giant brown lizard, half-hidden by the trees. It was easily twelve feet long, including tail, and several feet high.

She stopped short. “Three gods.”

“Besarkadal,”
said Rayn. “The great lizards.”

Patricus barked sharply at the creature from behind Celeste's legs.

“You say it's not dangerous?”

“I know it looks frightening,” said Rayn. “But it's a plant eater. It's not aggressive at all. Watch.” He walked into the jungle, straight toward the lizard.

Celeste bit her lip.

The lizard paid him no mind, even as he walked close enough to touch it—and then he patted the creature on its shoulder. “Come and see,” called Rayn. “The
besarkadal
are scared of nothing.”

Curiosity won out over fear, and she followed Rayn into the trees, right up next to the creature. It started to walk as she approached, its great legs crunching the vegetation underfoot. She almost turned and fled, but the animal only took a few steps to the nearest fern and bent its head to tear off a mouthful of leaves. It chewed rhythmically, with a not unpleasant grating sound. She laid a hand on the creature's shoulder. It felt dry and leathery, like the skin of the shark she'd grabbed onto in the Great Northern Sea.

“This is the only place they are found,” said Rayn. “On Rul Kejaban. They used to be on all the islands—their bones turn up from time to time—but they disappeared everywhere except here.”

“Why did these survive when all the others died out?”

“We're not sure. Maybe because there are no people here. No one has ever lived on Rul Kejaban—it's inaccessible by water unless you go to great lengths to scale that cliff. About a century ago, someone did exactly that and discovered the
besarkadal
, which for countless years had been known only in stories and legends. The Inyan king—my great-great-grandfather—claimed this island as King's Lands, making it a public space, and built the bridge so people could visit whenever they liked. There are a couple of guards who keep an eye on the place. It's against the law to harm the lizards. Look, there's another one.”

She turned and spotted a second lizard partially hidden behind some trees. And a third, farther away. “Do the
besarkadal
ever cross the suspension bridge?”

“It hasn't happened yet,” said Rayn. “I don't think they like that bridge.”

Celeste didn't blame them.

Rayn offered Celeste his arm. “Shall we keep walking? The trail circles around. It doesn't cover the entirety of Rul Kejaban—the island is larger than it looks—but there's plenty to see.”

She took his arm and they headed farther into the Island of Wonders.

W
hen Celeste returned with Rayn to the Tiasan Palace, a little daylight remained, but they'd missed the supper hour. Rayn ordered food to be sent up to his room. Celeste, who'd been riding and walking and exploring all day, ate ravenously.

Strangely, she didn't feel tired. The sights Rayn had shown her had breathed new life into her. Her mind could not stop thinking about the things she'd seen. From the moment Lucien had suggested this marriage, she'd been intimidated by the thought of moving to a foreign land and leaving everything she knew behind. And there
was
a cost. She would miss many things that she loved in Kjall, not just her family, but comforts and interests, like the food and the oak forests and Riat and the Mathematical Brotherhood.

But there was much to be gained by living in this new world. She was learning about coffee, and kava, and volcano bread, and great lizards living on an island. About cowrie shells and handbills and suspension bridges—surely there was much she could learn from the Inyan bridge engineers. Her mind craved stimulation, and she'd been granted it in abundance. An archipelago of exploration and experience awaited her, if she settled here with Rayn.

For today, she'd had her fill of the Inyan sights. There was only one more experience she wanted. She'd been waiting all day for this cherished moment of privacy—and she could tell by the look in Rayn's eyes that he felt the same way.

She pushed back the remains of her dinner. The effects of the kava had worn off, but she didn't miss them. Her body was pleasantly weary, in a well-used sort of way, and she had a good meal in her. She felt happy and contented, and the evening's pleasures were only beginning. She hoped before long to be well used indeed.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked.

“The best.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Rayn rose from his chair and held out his hand. “I promised you some privacy and a date with a bed.”

She went to him.

He folded her into his embrace, turning her so that her back was against his chest. Framing her shoulders with great hands, he stroked downward along her arms. She sighed and leaned into him, laying her head backward on his shoulder.

“It's a pity we don't need your fire magic anymore,” she said.

“I still have it,
karamasi
.” As he said it, his touch on her body changed. His fingers traced fire along her skin, enough to stimulate but not to burn. “My people once worshipped not just the Three,” Rayn whispered, “but sea spirits and fire spirits. Fire mages such as myself were considered priests to the fire spirits.”

“I cannot envision you as a priest.”

“It was centuries ago. We've since come to realize that the fire spirits are not gods and have no interest in being worshipped.”

“Of course not,” said Celeste. “They don't exist.”

“They do exist. Just because you haven't seen them doesn't mean they're not out there.” Rayn's hand reached her thigh, where he marked her with fiery patterns. “This bit of magic I'm using—fire touch—was thought to have healing properties.”

“I believe it,” said Celeste. “Keep doing it.”

“It restored fertility to the barren,” said Rayn. “It cured fevers and pox boils. It was the blessing of the spirits—so my people believed.”

“Continue,” she gasped, “and I will believe anything.”

“Kiss me,” commanded Rayn.

She turned her head and parted her lips. While he tasted her, as if sampling a fine wine, his hands moved, bestowing the blessing of fire on her skin. He traced circles of fire on her chest and neck.

He reached for the fastener on the back of her dress.

“Wait.” Fear spiked through her, breaking the spell of his touch. The sun had not yet sunk beneath the horizon. Light spilled in through the open balcony, and she felt exposed. “Can we close the curtains?”

“They need to stay open,” said Rayn. “Otherwise the air won't circulate.”

“Please,” she said. “Until the sun goes down.”

Rayn released her and went to the balcony. He unfastened the ties of the gauzy curtains, and they flowed loose over the entrance to the balcony, shrouding them in near darkness. Celeste's stomach began to unknot.

Rayn crossed the room and activated a pair of light-glows.

“N-no,” she stammered. “Please. No light.”

He turned to her, bewildered. “I want the light,
karamasi
.
I want to see you.”

She shivered. “I . . . don't like to be seen.”

He deactivated the light-glows, returning the room to near darkness. But she could see, or at least sense, his frown. And he did not come to her. “Why does the light frighten you?” he asked. “Do you not know how beautiful you are? It gives me pleasure to look at you.”

Celeste shivered, crossing her arms. She wanted to give him pleasure, but he was wrong. She was not beautiful. He hadn't really seen her body, not up close and in full light.

Rayn activated a light-glow. He went to the bed and sat on its edge. “Come here. Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

“I am not beautiful,” she choked out.

“
Karamasi
!”
he cried. “Why do you say such a thing?”

Her eyes swelled, and she blinked back the tears. “I say only what is true.”

Rayn rose from the bed, crossed the room, and picked her up, sweeping her off her feet in one swift motion. He carried her to the bed and laid her on it, sitting next to her. “Who told you that you weren't beautiful?”

“Nobody,” she whispered.

Rayn's cheeks flushed with anger. “Was it your brother?”

“Gods, no.”

“That horse's ass of a mathematician.”

“Not Gallus.”

“It was somebody,” said Rayn, “because you
are
beautiful, and you would know it if someone hadn't tried to convince you otherwise. Was it Cassian?”

Celeste stiffened as if slapped.

“Cassian,” said Rayn. “That
bastard
. I thought you said he didn't sleep with you.”

Ugly girl.
“He didn't,” she said in a small voice.

He growled under his breath. “I assumed he didn't sleep with you because you were thirteen and he had a sense of decency. Was there another reason?”

She bit her lip. Her throat felt swollen, her chest thick and heavy. She could not speak.

“What happened, Celeste?”

Look at her. Scrawny and flat as a hay field. No curves at all.

Her curves will come, but they'll never be like yours.

Stop covering yourself up, girl. We're looking at you.

Lucky for her she's a princess. Otherwise, no one would marry her.

Celeste screwed her eyes shut.

Rayn gathered her into his arms. He stroked her hair, running his fingers through it like a comb. “Do you know that your hair has fascinated me from the moment I saw you?”

Celeste opened her eyes. “I'm not blond like your kinsmen.”

“I see blond hair every day,” said Rayn. “I see it on my own head. Your hair is dark and shining and lustrous. I love the way it curls around your shoulders. Did you know that on the beach in Riorca, when I was half out of my senses, I almost took you for a sea spirit?”

She shook her head.

“And gods, your face.” Rayn ran his hand reverently down her forehead, her nose, her cheek. “How can I describe it? I am no poet, but the lines of your face are a work of art.” He leaned down and kissed her gently. “I love the way your lips pink up when I kiss them.”

Celeste swallowed. Her emotions were in a jumble. Rayn's loving words about her body were like scraps tossed to the starving. She devoured them and craved more. Yet the idea of his scrutinizing her, part by part, was terrifying. He would get to the flaws soon enough.

“Let's have a look at the rest of you.” He rolled her onto her side.

“Rayn—” she protested.

“Trust me.” He unfastened her dress and pulled it down, exposing her breasts. His breath hitched as he stared. “Now that is the most beautiful sight in the world.”

She hauled her dress upward, covering herself.

“You deny me the pleasure of looking?” he said.

She sank into the bed, feeling hopeless. What was the use in stalling? He was going to discover the truth sooner or later. Averting her eyes, she lowered her dress and allowed him to look his fill. “They're not beautiful. See? The one on the left is larger than the one on the right.”

He looked perplexed. “It is?”

She thrust her bosom at him. “It's plainly obvious.”

He studied her breasts. “I think you're right. It's a little bit bigger.” He smiled. “You think that's a fault?”

“It's practically a deformity,” she said.

“My left foot is bigger than my right. Do you call me ugly?”

She shook her head. “You are the handsomest of men.”

“None of us are created perfect,” said Rayn. “We are mortals, not gods. And this mortal, when he sees breasts as lovely as these, doesn't measure and compare. He drinks in the sight, grateful for the gift that has been given him.” He lowered his mouth to her left breast.

Pleasure suffused her as he took her nipple in his mouth. He took her other breast in his hand and rubbed it in gentle circles. He wasn't using his fire magic, yet she was burning up from the inside. She grabbed him, one hand tightening on his broad shoulder and the other on his braid, and moaned, half out of her senses.

He lifted his head.

“Gods, Rayn. More.”

He turned his attention to her right breast, tasting it, sucking it, and rubbed the other with his hand. A blaze of heat kindled between her legs.

Once more Rayn lifted his head. “I assure you that these breasts are, in fact, perfect. But I may need to play with them some more to be certain.”

“Don't tease,” she complained.

“I am not teasing.” He rolled her onto her side and tugged her dress downward. “Let's get this off of you.”

She cooperated, not from a desire for him to see the rest of her body, but because she wanted him inside her, and that wasn't going to happen with her dress on. In a moment, she was completely naked, and he was looking on her with frank admiration.

He ran a hand down the curves of her body. “Surely you can find no fault here.”

“I'm shaped wrong,” she said. “I'm wider in the hips than in the chest.”

“That's a fault?”

She wasn't certain anymore. “Isn't it?”

“Every woman has her own shape,” said Rayn. “Yours is beautiful.”

“Look, there's a scar here on my thigh.”

He studied it. “How'd you get that?”

“Fell off a horse when I was a girl.”

Rayn smiled. “Evidence of a life well lived. I'll bet you never even noticed my scars. You'll have more of them before your life is done, and if you deign to marry me, I'll love each and every one of them. Tell me, did Cassian convince you that these entirely normal features of your body made you ugly?”

She looked away. “Sort of.”

“Tell me,” said Rayn.

“He had a wife,” said Celeste. “Not officially—he had to divorce her in order to marry me. But they remained lovers. She was jealous of me.”

“The wife is the one who said these things?”

“No. Well, a little bit. Mostly it was Cassian, to reassure her that he wanted her and not me. They would strip me naked and tell me everything that was wrong with me. Then they'd leave and go to the bedroom to make love.”

A line appeared in the middle of Rayn's forehead. “But you didn't
want
him to make love to you. Right?”

“No, I didn't.” Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “I know it doesn't make sense. I'm
glad
he didn't sleep with me. I'm
glad
he found me ugly. And yet it still hurt, knowing I was not desired. He said I would never be desired by anyone.”

“He lied,” said Rayn.

A fat tear tracked its way down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “I shouldn't be so upset. It's stupid. Obviously I didn't want him to rape me, so why does it bother me that he didn't want to? I
hate
him for making me feel so mixed up. I
hate
him.”

“That's right,
karamasi
,” said Rayn. “Hate him, because that's what he deserves. He is dead, and I am here. Let his words drift into obscurity, unremembered. You are beautiful and very much desired.” He stripped off what remained of his tunic and pants. “Look at me. Do you see how much I desire you?” He was thick and erect.

“I do.”

Rayn rose from the bed stark naked and went to the curtains. He pulled them back from the balcony, letting the sun's waning light filter into the room. She envied him for feeling so at home in his own skin.

Gentle sunlight fell upon her body, while a cool breeze caressed her skin.

“The light only enhances your beauty,” said Rayn as he returned to the bed. “Don't be afraid to let it shine on you.”

He entered her—as promised, slowly, letting her feel every inch of his length. He kissed her, feasting upon her mouth. He sucked one breast and then the other while tracing circles on her skin with his fire touch. And he moved inside her, filling her, making it clear just whom she belonged to.

When his gentle movements were no longer enough, and she gasped with need, he sped his pace. He was so
big
. His muscles flexed with exertion; his body glistened with sweat.

“Oh,
karamasi
,” he groaned.

Her body spilled over into wave after wave of burning climax. She gripped him as her body clenched, and closed her eyes in ecstasy. He moved against her in an ever-increasing rhythm. Then he groaned again. His body went rigid and his hands held her in a grip of iron.