Page 21 of A Kiss of Flame
“One of value,” it replied vaguely. “Admittance requires it.”
Levian sighed, her irritation evident. “I’m assuming it needs to be juicy enough that we won’t go blabbing about what we see here?”
“Correct,” the door answered.
Barith leaned closer to the door. They’d come this far. “I know where to find Princess Liora of the Summer Fae—alive.”
“Youdo?” Levian gasped, her face alit with shock. Princess Liora had supposedly been killed a century or so before by a sect of faerie rebels seeking to overthrow her father. The princess’s death had nearly brought about civil war in Li’tha, the hidden lands of the Summer Fae. Only it turns out, as Barith had unexpectedly discovered, the princess was not dead but living amongst witches in some small village in the Swiss Alps.
The ring around them glowed and settled. “That is acceptable,” the door said.
Levian stared at Barith in disbelief. “How have you never told me this?” she hissed.
Barith shrugged. “It was a secret,” he pointed out.
Levian made a sour face. “Well, now the Eldreth have it to hold over your head,” she grumbled.
He didn’t much care. He figured it would satisfy the door. “Your turn,” he told her.
Levian sighed, then narrowed her eyes on him. “Cover your ears,” she ordered.
Barith shot her a look. “Ye heard mine,” he argued.
She cocked an eyebrow, her stance defiant. “I didn’t ask you to blurt it out for me to hear, did I?”
With a grumble, he scowled but boxed his hands over his ears. Satisfied, Levian turned and leaned in close to the door. He tried to listen, but all he could make out was her whispered voice—possibly speaking the language of her mother’s people, the dryads.
Levian leaned back, straightening the front of her coat. The ring around them glowed and settled once more as Barith dropped his hands from his ears. “That is acceptable,” the door said. Welcome to Kamár.” The door shimmered, the face fading, and it vanished, revealing a long, pitch-black hallway.
“Are you coming, or will you just guard the door?” Levian taunted, clearly excited, before disappearing into the darkness.
Barith hovered outside. He wasn’t keen on being trapped underground, and he knew that’s where he was headed. The fine, dark purple suit Levian had made for him felt much more suffocating all of a sudden. When he lost sight of the mage in the unnatural darkness, he cursed and followed after her. It was ghastly cold, and his hackles rose. He didn’t need to be a magickal genius to know they were walking through a portal.
“Levian?” he grumbled, unable to see anything. He felt a squeeze around him just as the darkness consumed him. The scent shifted—from spiced to citrus to floral—before all he could smell was Levian’s jasmine perfume. Suddenly, he stepped out of the consuming darkness and into a small elegant room with wood-paneled walls, rich dark blue fabrics draped from the ceiling, and a few tasteful bronze sculptures of a naked fae maleand female on the far end. A small fire burned in the hearth, filling the room with warmth and a soft glow.
The tension in him began to rise. They were definitely underground—deep if his instincts told him anything. The mage stood near the fire, already slipping out of her coat. Barith moved closer to help her with her, trying to tamp down his cresting anxiety.
Once she was free of the coat, Barith found himself pleasantly distracted. He hadn’t seen her dress yet, thanks to her coat. It was a beautiful strapless number made of purple silks to match his suit. The bodice sported a very low cut, dipping to her navel, accentuating her small breasts. The ethereal skirts flared about her slim hips and cascaded to her ankles, with two large slits on either side hinting at her long legs. Barith gulped before he could stop himself.
Levian’s eyes twinkled, and she smirked. “It’s rather fine, isn’t it?” she purred, twisting to admire herself.
“Aye,” he replied, his voice a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat delicately. “It is very fine.”
She leaned in close, laying her hands over the lapels of his jacket. The touch made his skin tingle, even through the many layers of fabric between them. “Relax,” she said, her voice honey-soft. “We’re here to have fun, remember?” She winked at him.
Barith knew she was putting on a show for the eyes that were undoubtedly watching them, but that word cropped up in his mind again—companion.
“Vi,” he began lowly, leaning close to her ear, “am I meant to be treating you like more than a friend this evening?” It felt like an odd question, but necessary to clarify.
Levian leaned in closer, her hands running up along his chest. The intimacy made his stomach tense. “It couldn’t hurt,” she whispered. “If you’re comfortable playing the part.”
They’d pretended to be lovers before. Usually, he’d have happily leaned into his flirtatious, charming habits and thought nothing of it, but this felt different—heavier. As Levian’s hands rested on his chest and he breathed in her intoxicating scent, Barith recognized that she was possibly the only person he’d follow into such an enclosed space without feeling like a caged animal. He also knew these moments with her would be some of his last. She’d been giddy about their plans tonight, and he’d been too, so much that he’d only grumbled a few complaints when she’d forced him into his suit. They were about to spend an evening infiltrating an exclusive private club all to get the name of an illegal artifacts broker. It was precisely the type of mission they’d both relished when they’d worked together.
Levian looked as fine as wrapped boiled sweets, and if playing the part of her lover got her closer to her thieves, he’d do it despite the weird heaviness lingering over him. It was likely just nerves from being underground. Plus, he’d wanted one final grand adventure with her, so he might as well lean into it. “Aye, darling,” he whispered back, his voice a low growl. “As long as ye aren’t going to hex me for touching ye.”
The mage’s breath hitched, and she pulled away slightly, her cheek brushing against his beard. She looked up into his eyes, then down to his mouth. They had to pretend to be lovers. He could manage that, but now he wondered how far Levian would take their little charade.
The mage ran her hands down his shoulders, and his tail flicked with appreciation. “Whatever gets the job done,” she breathed, her lips inches from his.