A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)

by Amanda Bouchet

I’d probably start jumping at shadows if the circus ever went all the way east to Fisa. Just the thought of my home realm makes my sweat turn cold.

But royals without magic? My cynical snort is lost in the boisterousness of the crowd. It’ll never last.

What did I do to deserve my magic, apart from survive?

“Why is everyone ganging up on me?” She grins. “Because you’re weird, and nobody knows who you are.”

The Fates got everything backward with these two—a huge, tattooed southerner with fire and flight and a tiny demigoddess with nothing to show for her Olympian heritage except rare beauty and a colorful glow. What a pair. I wish they would finally sleep together and get all the repressed emotion out in the open.

I have to hear it. There’s magic in spoken language. It’s binding. There’s a reason people ask for someone else’s word. Every sentence a person utters can be a promise—or a betrayal.

I brace for a ripping in my soul. Surprisingly, none comes. He’s told me the truth, which makes him worthy of my advice. He’s also courageous and has a family that will support him, which means he might actually survive it.

Between the southern climate and the boy’s lie, someone’s going to have to peel me out of my pants. I hope Desma’s up for the job.

I scowl, repressing the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on his white tunic. He’s too clean for a tribal warlord.

Typical warlord: huge ego, huge sword, huge ass. Figuratively—the rest looks just right.

I stumble, see red, and then gear up to fight back when I realize he’s trying to protect me. Under the heat of his hand, something in my chest contracts with a sharp twist.

He levels a flat stare at me that would wither a person who hadn’t been tortured, beaten within an inch of her life, and nearly murdered six times in her own bed before the age of fifteen.

The warlord’s gray eyes crinkle at the corners, and his lips jump up for the briefest of smiles, taking his face from striking to far too appealing in less than a heartbeat.

“I would bleed for him. I would die for him.” Carver’s truth is so strong that it carries a word—brother. Shocked, I drop his hand like a poisonous snake. I almost never hear an echo from truths.

Great. The warlord’s question suddenly makes sense. This is a party to out Basil. Too bad I’m invited.

“I saw the look on her face.” The warlord squeezes Basil’s neck until the other man gasps for air. “You’re a liar.” He saw my pain? I’m more worried about that than I am about anything else.

The warlord watches my skin lose all color, his eyes somber, his jaw tight, and his hands clenched at his sides. Something in his gaze shocks me. I don’t ask why he cares, although I almost tell him that in a few minutes, I’ll be pink and soft and poison-free again, but that’s not something he needs to know.

Relief floods his face. He grins, and a tiny lightning bolt zings down my spine. “She’s the one,” he announces to his men. “I want her.” Whoa. What? Who? Me? What for?

The woman who divines the truth through falsehood? The most coveted diplomatic weapon in the realms? The Kingmaker?

Before I came to the circus, there was only one person I wouldn’t have been willing to kill, if it came to that, or let die for me. Now there are more than I have fingers and toes, and it makes me weak. Family.

I would kill myself before letting it cross my lips for any of my remaining blood relations.

“Now that that’s settled, you’re coming with me.” I snort, stepping back. “Never in a billion suns. Not even if Zeus showed up as a swan and tried to peck me in your direction. I wouldn’t go with you even if my other option was Hades dragging me to the Underworld for an eternal threesome with Persephone.”

Then the warlord turns and looks straight at me. Impossible. Still one moment, he pounces the next, grabbing me.

“Who are you?” He turns me back around, keeping hold of my arms. “Beta Sinta.”

I swipe my knife from his belt, bring the blade down hard on the rope, and plow my way toward the door. A second later, I’m on my ass. The rope is perfectly intact, and three men are looking down at me, identical smirks needing to be wiped off their faces. Permanently.

So this is it, exactly what Mother was trying to teach me, to pound and torture into me. Love is weakness, an exploitable flaw.

My leather pants are officially one of the worst things in my life right now, and that’s saying a lot

Griffin. I turn the name over in my head, reluctantly curious. A griffin is an exceptionally rare creature, a mix of lion and eagle, king of beasts and king of birds. His parents must have been the pretentious sort. Then again, he did take over Sinta.

“Why Beta? Why crown your sister Alpha when you’re the one who did all the work?”

From what I’ve heard, Alpha Sinta is unwed and too old to bear children anyway. That means Beta Sinta will succeed his sister on the throne, likely sooner rather than later, and then his offspring will come after him. Probably in every sense of the words.

“Egeria’s warm,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm. “She smiles at people. She has ideas for healing centers and schools. She knows how to comfort widows and orphans. She compensates for what I lack.” “Humanity?” I ask snidely, not really meaning it despite my own unfortunate circumstances. He shrugs. “In a way.”

“Fluffy and full of cream?” Kato wiggles blond eyebrows at me. Carver grins. “Think she’s sweet, too?” My eyes spit fire. “Bite me. You’ll find out.”

His grip on my waist tightens, and a tremor unfurls through me at the subtle pressure of each warm, blunt fingertip. Eyes hooded, darkening, he murmurs, “You’ll recover.” Traitorous heat rises in my belly and fans out across my chest.

“It’s not a question of getting used, Cat. We’ll work together. You’ll see.”

“I know you’re the Kingmaker, and I also know you didn’t hesitate to put yourself in danger to protect a southern Sintan Hoi Polloi stranger and his men.”

My eyes lock on the hard ridges of his abdomen. He’s not serious. His belt drops to the grass. He is! He starts sliding his pants down his hips, and I vanish in a panic, taking Beta Sinta into invisibility with me.

He frowns. “What’s wrong?” What isn’t? I flush hot and red and focus on his chest. It’s a pretty spectacular chest. I refuse to look lower.

“You handled that hit well. Like a man.” “Is that supposed to be a compliment? The last thing I want is to be hairy and stupid.”

It takes a few hard tugs before I’m finally free. “I’m going to burn those,” I groan in relief. “Don’t.” His disembodied voice carries a rough edge. “I like them.”

When I’m done, I toss the shirt down, aiming for a spot where the grass is thin. As luck would have it, the tunic reappears sweaty face-print up. Beta Sinta sees it for the first time and curses. Ha!

We pop back into sight, and he looks me over with disconcerting thoroughness, something hot and alarming in his gaze.

When I escape, I need a new disguise. Forty and curvy just got busted. Well, forty anyway.

If I have to wake up with my nose in Beta Sinta’s chest one more time, I think I’ll scream.

“I’m going to investigate.” “Alone?” He smiles faintly, angling his body toward mine. His warmth burns a flush into my cheeks. “Worried about me?” he asks. “What? No! I hope you die.” His smile fades.

Carver doesn’t feel right. His body isn’t solid enough. He doesn’t smell of citrus soap and sunshine. He’s just…not the same. As much as I hate to admit it, I was getting used to his brother.

“Wisdom and war,” Kato answers. “What every man needs.” “Not home and family?” I ask. He grins. “Not a young man. A hearth and a wife are for later, when the battles are won.” “Haven’t you won? Sinta is yours.” “Sinta is Egeria’s,” Kato says. “There are battles yet to come.”

I have a better question. Why haven’t I had my daily dose of nightmares since Beta Sinta abducted me? That is, until tonight?

“Too bad I can’t see you,” Carver says. “What?” I feel my cheeks heat. “Why?” “That would be more fun,” he answers matter-of-factly. I can’t help laughing.

“Don’t flirt with me.” “Why not?” He sounds completely innocent. The rascal. “Because I’ll kill you.” “You could try,” he says, imitating his brother’s deeper voice.

“You ready?” “I’m always ready.” I let go of our invisibility, and Carver is still completely naked, his clothes clutched in one hand. “That’s not ready!” I cry, slapping my hand over my eyes. “You’re an idiot!” “But an impressive idiot.” “No!” I screech. “Oh gods! Now I have to replace my eyeballs!”