Page 41 of A Kiss of Flame

Anselm nodded as he approached and stepped aside to let him through.

Wren, in that scarlet gown that made her skin glow like moonlight, was leaning on the balustrade overlooking the ocean, her arms so straight and taut it looked for a moment as if they were all that were holding her upright.

Anselm stepped outside behind Finn. ‘Maybe you can make her see reason. She can’t stay out here, Finn. They’re going to notice. Appearances are?—’

‘How many times do I need to tell you I am not going back in there,’ Wren snapped at him. Always the politician at heart, Anselm. Finn could guess how this conversation had gone already and nothing would appeal to Wren less than arguments about her duty and political expediency. ‘Besides, Leander appears to have taken the whole diplomatic incident thing as a dare and I don’t intend to play with him.’

‘It’s all right,’ Finn told her, as gently as he could. ‘No one would expect it.’ He cast Anselm a meaningful glare but his friend shrugged as if to say if that was the way Finn wanted to play it, fine. But Finn wasn’t playing. He gestured to the door leading back inside, where the lights glowed warm and the music was starting up again.

‘I’ll leave you then, your highnesses,’ said Anselm. ‘But please consider what I said. You are our acknowledged princess. In a very short time you might be queen. Such things become necessary.’

‘Go away, Anselm,’ Wren growled.

Finn knew that tone. Sure enough, in the corners of the balcony and out across the open air beyond the balcony, the shadows were moving, coiling and growing. Anselm didn’t notice. He didn’t know the risk.

‘By your leave,’ said Anselm with a bow.

Finn waited a moment or two, until he was sure they were alone, before crossing to her and running a soothing hand across the taut lines of Wren’s shoulders. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ he told her. ‘Let go. You don’t want to be calling up anything here and now, do you?’

She shivered beneath his touch. He felt it like vibrations up his arm. But the growing shadows unfurled into nothing again.

Wren sighed irritably. ‘I’ve been trying so hard not to do that.’

‘I know,’ he told her. And he did. He could see the strain on her face, in her eyes. He wanted to hold her and tell her it would all be all right.

But no one could promise that. The silence dragged on, hollow and aching.

‘Why are they here?’ she asked at last. ‘You know, don’t you? What did they tell you?’

Finn leaned against the balcony edge beside her, staring out to sea. The waves moved far below them, crawling in from the edge of the night, to crash on the rocks below.

‘That ostensibly they are here for the trial. Leander is here to apologise for what he did to us. For his incursion into the territory of Asteroth and his attempt to abduct you. And trying to kill me but that’s secondary. He’s been trying to do that for years and I don’t think he’s sorry about that in the least. Only sorry he didn’t succeed. I think our father is more embarrassed than anything else and so he’s reaching out to make peace with me, and with Asteroth. And Hestia, our cousin, is in charge of this mission so she’ll have reasons of her own.’

‘I thought witches in Ilanthus weren’t allowed positions of power?’ So Wren knew about Hestia. Interesting. How much had Anselm told her? And who else had her ear now?

Finn reached out and ran a fingertip down her shoulder. It was meant to be a simple gesture of reassurance and affection but the feeling of her silken skin made him draw in a breath so sharply it left him dizzy.

Focus, he told himself. He had been away from her for too long already. He wanted only to throw himself at her feet right now. Especially with her looking as she looked, with the fire of her anger raging in her eyes.

‘Witchkind aren’t. Hestia is… different. She’s one of the sisterhood, and she’s a favourite of my father’s. She’s powerful. And dangerous. And…’

Wren looked at him, a stare which was like being stabbed. ‘I saw you with her. Following her like some kind of adoring puppy.’

He almost laughed. He wanted to. The idea of adoring Hestia…

But he did. To a certain extent, for all her faults. But he didn’t believe a word she had told him, especially not about his father.

‘I didn’t have a choice. She was probably the only friend I ever had in that court. I owe her. Like I said, she’s different.’

A small word for what she was. But Wren didn’t look convinced.

She lifted her hand towards the pendant Hestia had given him as if it drew her to it. Her fingers trembled but she said nothing. Then she looked up to his face, a thousand questions in her eyes.

Finn leaned in closer, his mouth already seeking hers, his eyes closing with expectation. She drew him to her like a lodestone. Perhaps he could burn away Leander’s kiss with his own. At least his would be welcome.

‘Finn.’ Roland’s voice broke the spell and Wren jerked back from him, turning to face her father. ‘You are needed inside. Our guests are asking for you. Wren…’ His voice softened, gentled unexpectedly, a tone which gave Finn a rush of hope for the two of them. Roland could be kind. Few people knew that, but Finn did. ‘If you wish to retire for the evening I will understand.’

He stood in the doorway, his features strained, his shoulders tight. Wren’s hand closed on Finn’s arm, the pendant and the abandoned kiss forgotten.