Page 37 of A Kiss of Flame

Because he could. Because he enjoyed it. Because he would always get away with it.

Leander had arrived at the embassy the afternoon before the ball so Finn never got a chance to send warning.

When his half-brother appeared alongside General Gaius and the rest of Hestia’s people, it was all Finn could do not to draw his sword there and then. It probably saved his life, or Leander’s, not to mention the trouble it probably would have caused. He might be a prince within these walls, but he was still a Knight of the Aurum and that would matter. Even in Sidonia.

But the last time he had seen Leander, his half-brother had almost killed him, and had almost destroyed Wren with his rituals to call down the Nox.

‘Don’t,’ Hestia said so softly it was a sigh, her hand resting on his arm. No magic, no coercion, but still, he froze at her touch. ‘I need your help, Finn. In this as much as anything else.’

‘This?’ he hissed.

‘Leander.’

They had squared off on either side of the main reception room in the Ilanthian embassy while Hestia hurriedly tried to speak words of welcome. And Finn tried not to give in to the lingering urge to attack.

Leander had smiled, lifted his hands into the air to show he was unarmed. ‘I come in peace,’ he said, the smug, self-satisfied expression enough to make Finn want to risk killing him anyway. Leander knew exactly what he was doing of course. ‘Our father sent me. I’m sworn to be on my best behaviour and Hestia has the authority to make sure of that. Don’t you, cousin?’

‘More than the authority, your highness,’ she warned him darkly. ‘The ability as well.’

Leander tugged idly at the bracelet on his right wrist as if it irritated him, and scowled at her, his clever words silent now. Finn’s eyes latched onto it at once, and he felt the horror in him twist to a new perspective.

Shadow-wrought steel. Designed to control magic and, when wielded by a skilled practitioner, used to inflict great pain.

Hestia was charming and Finn loved her, but she was a sister of the Nox and she was willing to use her magic on anyone as needed, even the crown prince, it seemed, so long as the king decreed it. Leander must have really pissed Alessander off this time.

And their father would never have punished his favourite son without good cause. Finn wondered what it was. It sounded serious.

Leander snorted dismissively. ‘See? I’m on a leash.’ He had the nerve to pout.

Hestia turned her back on him, sweeping back inside. ‘Don’t mind him, my dear. Alessander is furious with him because of his attack on you. What he did was unforgivable. If he had succeeded in killing you he would have spent the remaining years of your father’s life in the chamber of regrets.’ Which was just their charming way of saying tortured to near insanity. But only until his father died, Finn noted. After that… well, they all knew where the crown would land.

Why his father still cared what happened to Finn was anyone’s guess. Perhaps Hestia knew, but Finn didn’t dare ask. The very thought of what Alessander had planned for him, of what he still might have planned…

Hestia always took control of any situation. She was used to command, to being in charge, and to having people obey her. Finn had been too surprised and unsettled by his brother’s appearance that he hadn’t thought what it would mean in the larger scheme of things. Such as what Leander’s presence here might mean.

Right now, in the midst of the most formal Asterothian ball, with Leander having caused yet another upheaval of seismic proportions, Hestia took control of the situation. Yet again.

Perhaps that was the plan. Throw everyone off balance and then Hestia would sail through the turmoil, charming and competent, smoothing over the rough edges with magic. Because she always used magic. Even the lingering scent of the shadows entwined around her made Finn’s skin crawl.

At least she hadn’t tried to turn her magic on him. He wouldn’t put it past her, but it was the only thing that kept him there. He’d have to warn Roland and the others somehow, without saying it out loud. There hadn’t been a chance, and Leander’s appearance at the embassy was surprise enough.

Hestia’s reputation preceded her even in Pelias. She was pale and gilded, like all the royal family of Sidon except him, her traditional Ilanthian gown the same colour as her golden hair, simple and sheer where her hair was elaborately styled with braids and beads, strands of gold thread woven through it. She was some twenty years older than Finn, though she did not show it, and had always, in his memory, been the only kind member of that family. She watched him as if he fascinated her for as long as he could remember.

It was not a comfortable position for anyone to find themselves in.

But she wasn’t looking at him now. All her attention was on Roland de Silvius and on the need to stop Leander instantly making everything worse. She had begged Finn to help her. Not an easy task.

Roland already looked ready to start the war all over again. And Wren…

Wren stood on the far side of the dancers who had frozen to watch the scene. Her eyes, dark and endless, were fixed unerringly on Leander. They flickered to Finn only briefly and then back to the prince.

The last time she had seen him, Leander had opened the way for the Nox to consume her, to take her life and her existence and make her its vessel.

A twinge of concern bit into the back of Finn’s neck as he scanned the crowd of staring eyes, trying not to think what the rumour-mongers of Pelias would make of his arrival with his half-brother and his cousin, dressed like an Ilanthian lordling, with a piece of dark magic hanging around his neck. That he had betrayed the knights, perhaps? That he had returned to Alessander’s good graces and was back in the Ilanthian fold? Perhaps that he had been biding his time, waiting…

‘Your highness,’ Roland said, grinding out the title as he faced Leander. ‘This is most unexpected.’

‘His highness has something to say to our gracious hosts,’ Hestia spoke before Leander could reply. ‘Your highness?’