Page 20 of The Incendiary

Between the gaps in the fortress walls, smoke danced languidly from chimneys atop wooden buildings. I shifted and tightened the strap of my knapsack to conceal my bloody shoulder wound and lifted the hood of my cloak back over my head.

When I turned back toward the entry, just about to cross the bridge to the large main door, a pair of unforgiving hands clamped down on my shoulders.

This time, I was face-to-face with the swords of at least ten soldiers. All very long, very sharp, and pointed at me.

Shit.

SEVEN

ARYELLA

When you meet your betrothed, promise me you’ll make sure he knows how hard you fucking bite.

—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I

I was apprehended by multiple brawny young men wearing the same black fighting leathers as the others. They dragged me through the mammoth front doors of the fortress without a word. Buildings were scattered throughout the fortress: living quarters, refectories, classrooms, and training halls according to the rough sketches Finn had left me before leaving Tovick.

Some guards eyed me with caution, others with distaste. There were a diverse array of complexions and heights but all appeared fairly young—between twenty and thirty years of age—well nourished, and strong. Maybe they were doing fine without their queen, after all.

“The captain’s on her way,” someone announced.

I looked between the fighters and their swords, my boots grinding gravel as I shifted. “You can put your weapons down. I’m not here to fight you.”

And I would prefer not to unleash the power of the gods on you, I thought.

“I think you should,” Shera replied mischievously from the forest beyond. “It would be fun.”

Clearly, my thoughts were louder than I wanted them to be. Our bond felt like a pathway divided by a wide open door. It was easy to think too loudly and let one slip through.

An athletic, ebony-skinned soldier with sharp, dark eyes, cutting cheekbones, and thick, tightly braided black locks stepped forward and assessed me with an unforgiving stare. Stunning, but powerful and deadly. She was one I’d avoid on the sparring mat.

“Lieutenant?” she barked at her subordinate.

“This one was trying to break in the main entrance.” The lieutenant tossed me in the gravel before the captain. “Knocked out three guards before we stopped her here.”

“For the love of the gods, I was not trying to break in!” I objected. “Your guards attacked me.”

“You’d better be joking,” the captain scoffed down at me. But others assuming I could do less because I was small had become an advantage. “She took out three of you?”

“Otis Stoll and both Sharpe brothers,” the lieutenant clarified. “She appears to be… unexpectedly fast.”

“Stoll?” She gawked in disbelief.

Stoll must have been the big one. Something nagged at the back of my mind, and it didn’t take me long to recall a conversation at the tavern in Freyburn. My friends had mentioned Stoll and the Sharpes, along with their friend Alec Gerard. I remembered their wary reactions. These were dangerous men. And I’d probably aggravated them before I’d even reached the fortress’s front door.

“Well,” the captain sighed, “go retrieve them.” She waved in the direction from where I’d come, then turned back to me. “And you are?”

I cleared my throat. “I request an audience with Commander Winterton.”

Her lips thinned. “Your name, girl.”

I had spent a long time deciding what they would call me.

So much of Gavin was a part of who I was now, including his words from our last day in Warrich. “Then burn, it shall.” When I asked him to burn down that house I’d been starving in, he did without question. That day, he’d set something ablaze in me, too.

“Fera,” I answered. “My name is Fera.”

“Fire,” my umbra purred down our pathway.