Page 6 of A Kiss of Flame
Barith doubted his betrothed missed him at all. Their mating was a political arrangement, nothing more. Sera was no doubt enjoying the reprieve just as much as he was if he had to guess,but Levian’s words stung nonetheless. His ears burned. She would have been right, of course, if he’d mattered much to the process of his courtship at all. At this point, it was all nothing but icing on an already settled agreement between his horde and the Ceanadachs. His mother, Queen Eithne, knew he’d do his duty, which is why she’d not made much fuss when he’d told her he wished to take a short trip.
“This isnae about me,” he deflected. “Gwen told me you were huntin’ some thieves before ye vanished, and she called me all worried, and that got me worried, so here Ibloodyam—so yeah, I was concerned enough to ditch everythin’ and come find you,” he seethed.
Levian looked away from his sheepishly. “Well,” she mumbled. “Fine. I should have called Gwen, like I said.”
Barith growled and ran his hand through his matted hair. He was angry that Levian hadn’t bothered to tell Gwen she was alright, knowing how she liked to worry, but he knew he’d gotten too worked up over it. He was still tense and irritated from being trapped in that wall, amongst many other reasons. “Who are they?” he grumbled. “The thieves?”
The mage sniffed. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Barith clenched his jaw and glanced at Carvatticus, who was standing at a fair distance, clearly trying to give them space. “But it’shisbusiness?” he clipped, his voice rising. “What in the devil’s arse is Carvatticus even doing here? Shouldnae his Lordliness be perched on a throne somewhere in Obsidian?”
Levian rubbed her temple again, and he felt a tinge of guilt. “Carvatticus has been a help to me, which is more than I can say for you at the moment,” she retorted. Barith bristled at the bite in her tone. “How did you even know to look for me here?” she asked, puzzled.
The mage was usually clever in hiding her tracks, but Gwen had told Barith Levian had been heading for Paris before she’d lost contact. After a few days in the city, he’d managed to catch a few leads by visiting places he knew she liked, which brought him to a small shop in Montmartre where he’d been required to bribe the pixie who owned it with enough coin to make his granny blush. From there, he’d flown straight to Germany, stopping at a nearby village or two until he’d figured out where the old pixie’s estate was. Then he’d followed her scent of night jasmine, found the old house, was almost immediately devoured by a wall where he thought he would rot, to now be standing naked in the middle of a field except for the afghan Levian had given him.
“Yer no’ the only one with connections, you know,” he replied sharply, unwilling to share more.
Levian narrowed her eyes and let out an exasperated breath.
“Not to interrupt,” Carvatticus interrupted, “but can we continue this reunion somewhere with alcohol and a hot bath?”
Barith glared at the daemon, who grinned and slid next to Levian. They were an odd pair. Both slender, of similar heights, with narrow features. But while Carvatticus was pale and horned, Levian’s skin was the color of rich caramel and had ethereal features inherited by her wood fae mother. They were childhood friends and very close but very different in many ways. Barith had never really taken a liking to the daemon. Levian chalked it up to competition—since he and Car were both obnoxious flirts. The truth, however, was more grating.
“You’re welcome to join me for a soak,” the daemon purred. “I know of a lovely bathhouse in the city that is very discreet and?—”
“I dinnae need your bloody bathhouse,” Barith bit out.
Car’s lips curled as he looked Barith up and down. “I would beg to differ. But if you find my company so abhorrent thesedays, that is your loss.” With a heavy sigh, he draped an arm around Levian’s waist.
Barith glared at the daemon, and Car replied with a cocky smile. This is why the dragon disliked Carvatticus. The daemon was smug about the fact that he had known Levian longer and that they were as thick as thieves; Barith and the mage had always been more like oil and water—constantly squabbling. With Carvatticus, she seemed at ease.
“Did the daemons gain some sense and kick ye out of Obsidian?”Barith growled out.
Levian shot him a sharp look, warning him to watch himself.
The Daemon Lord didn’t flinch. “I was in Paris on business, ran into Vi Vi here, and offered to keep her company while she hunted her pesky little thieves.”
Barith looked to Levian and crossed his arms, waiting for her to elaborate as he’d asked.
The mage rolled her eyes and relented. “There have been several thefts,” Levian explained, her tone clipped, “as you heard from Gwen. I’m simply trying to uncover who’s behind them.”
“The Council of Mages has you hunting thieves?” Barith asked skeptically. He’d thought it odd when Gwen had told him what Levian was up to. Not the thief hunting necessarily, but that Council would have asked the mage to do it alone.
“They tried to steal from Abigail,” she told him.
Barith’s brows shit up. Abigail was a powerful witch and highly respected among the Folk, though not so much among her own kind. The Houses of Witches tended to shun anyone who played with potions that prolonged life in a way they found unnatural, and they weren’t keen on being friendly with the Fae Kingdoms either. Abigail did both. Levian knew the witch well, and Barith knew her well enough to realize anyone bold enough to steal from Abigail had to have some brass balls.
“I’ve been tracking them for several weeks,” Levian continued. “The pixie that used to live here was a collector. He was also quite fond of booby traps, as you discovered.” Barith’s skin flushed with embarrassment.
“It’s amusing,” Car chuckled. “We were just talking about you before we found you in that wall. Do you remember when?—”
“I need a drink,” Levian cut in. “And the bathhouse sounds lovely.”
“Of course, ViVi,” Car purred, pulling her closer. Barith held in the irritated growl that threatened to pop out.
“The Dragon’s Delight,” the daemon said with a wink. “The name of the bathhouse.”
“Of course it is,” Levian grumbled.