Fire Walker Read online

  Mina hoped to catch either Talin or Alistar on a break from their meetings, but no one emerged. As the midday heat settled in, she gave up. Even Alistar had been snapped up by his House to perform duties, despite pretending to be her sorran. It grated her nerves that Prince Ravel and Samira knew why the Hartnords were here. And they seemed happy about it—which couldn’t be good. How could Mina prepare for a threat when she didn’t know what it was?

  There was only one way she could prepare.

  She left the garden path and found the clearing where Prince Ravel had cultivated Rahn’s Breath. The charred grass had grown over since then, and the hidden space gave her some peace. She drew Hawk and loosed her limbs in a series of controlled spins.

  To dance was to become her sword, body and blade as one. Each movement served a purpose as though guided by Lune herself. Working through the motions relaxed her muscles and uncoiled the tension in her gut, easing whatever fears festered in her spirit. When she danced, she felt Lune’s hand—and the goddess’s permission to breathe and let go.

  Mina became the master of her own self.

  The blood bond warmed before she heard the rustle of leaves. She lowered Hawk as her father ducked under palm fronds.

  “We do have training rooms you can use.”

  “The palace is overrun. Shouldn’t you be guarding the King from our enemies?”

  Talin’s lip quirked. “The King’s enemies are taking a break for prayer. Khaled suggested I rest whilst it’s quiet. It’s going to be a long night.”

  She sheathed her sword. “Who do they pray to?”

  Talin led her to an empty marble bench and sat, stretching his legs. A fountain splashed farther down the path. This part of the palace garden seemed quiet enough as Housemen retreated indoors to rest through the midday heat, not that Solanders knew anything about heat.

  “They have only the one god. That’s convenient, I suppose, except Gareth tells me they’re required to pray twice a day, at dawn and dusk, and whenever they seek counsel. Gareth was saying—”

  “Why are they here?”

  “They’re not here to start a war.”

  “Seems a long journey for a Hartnord king to come and talk about trade.”

  “It’s not just about trade. For hundreds of years, our countries have been at odds. Establishing a foundation of friendship is the first step toward lasting peace.”

  “Why now? What do they want?”

  “It’s… complex. Gareth is helping me make sense of it.” He glanced over his shoulder, but no eavesdroppers lingered. “You cannot repeat what I am about to tell you. The Hartnords are afraid of us. Of our blood fire.”

  A cold sense of dread weighed in her stomach. “I knew this had something to do with the Fire Walkers.”

  “According to King Reinhart, there are Fire Walkers crossing his border and they’ve caused some disturbance. He wants a stop to it. He’s also concerned with Khaled’s recent concessions regarding them. The Hartnords weren’t so bothered when we were locking them away. Now that they’re free to live as they please, the Hartnords see it as an affront to their god, so Gareth tells me. They want the law changed back, or at least some restrictions placed on those with blood fire.”

  There it was—the reason Samira danced with such glee. “Who are they to demand that of us?”

  “Naturally, Khaled does not wish to bow to outsiders. But they’re offering unrestricted trade as compensation—a gesture of good faith, so they call it. Most of the Council are pushing for this, and it’s not just about gold—nations that trade openly rarely go to war. You know how tense things have been.” Talin rubbed the creases on his forehead. “Most Houses aren’t happy with Khaled’s reforms, and public safety is only one of those reasons. Gold is another. They used to have a temple full of Fire Walkers who had no choice but to perform certain duties, but now they’re required to hire additional hands. There are many Housemen who want things to return to what they were before, and they’ve latched onto the Hartnords’ proposals. It’s a divisive issue.”

  The subject of the Fire Walkers’ freedom shouldn’t have been divisive at all. “Don’t they remember the King is a Fire Walker, too? They’re his Council, can’t he control them?”

  “Khaled is putting his foot down and trying to convince the Hartnords that Fire Walkers are no threat. It’s a hard sell, as they’ll be attending Prince Rais’s helbond ceremony tonight and he has the scars to prove their danger. That’s why Rais has been absent from these initial meetings for now. Fire Walkers will be performing at the ceremony, at the King’s suggestion, to show they can be trusted to control their power. We’ll all need to be on our best behavior.”

  “You can’t let Leila or her acolytes near the ceremony—”

  “Leila is High Priestess. The ceremony is hers.”

  “One of her acolytes left me to die. You can’t trust them.”

  “We’ll take every precaution, don’t fear. I’ve asked Jonan to watch them, in any case. Once this is over, I’ll be bringing my own concerns to the King regarding Leila and her acolytes. Don’t think I’m going to let them get away with mistreating you.”

  She’d keep an eye on them, too, but it didn’t feel like enough. Stopping Prince Ravel from winning the tournament had been straight forward, but how could she convince an entire foreign kingdom to leave the Fire Walkers alone?

  “There is another matter I must discuss with you,” Talin said. “The Council has made its own proposal to placate the Hartnords. Their crown prince needs a wife. Princess Aniya is at an eligible age for marriage. An alliance would strengthen ties between the nations.”

  A marriage between Sandair and Hartnor? Mina knew little enough about politics, but this marriage didn’t sound like something any woman would desire. “Does Aniya want to marry a Hartnord?”

  “She knows what’s expected of her.”

  “That’s not an answer. Doesn’t she get a say?”

  Talin tugged at his braided beard. “Khaled is… uncomfortable with the prospect of his daughter marrying a Hartnord. Not after he lost his dear sister on Hartnord land seventeen years ago. But he needs a strong reason to reject the Council’s proposal. He has another marriage candidate in mind for Aniya, and she has agreed.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it? If she’s happy with the choice—”

  “It’s your sorran. The Neu Bosan boy. I’m afraid you’ll need to release him.”

  Alistar? He was a marriage candidate for the Princess? Since when? He’d barely left the Academy, hadn’t even won the tournament, and yet he was being stolen for marriage? Mina squeezed her hands together. “Does he know?”

  “Not yet. The King has been in talks with his father. All parties have agreed to the match.”

  “But Ali—my sorran doesn’t even know? They’ve not asked him? What happened to building alliances between Sandair and Hartnor?”

  “A marriage between Sandair and Neu Bosa would be equally favorable. Neu Bosa don’t have royalty to speak of, but House Myrbond has recently gained enough political power in Neu Bosa to raise them to that level. As the ambassador’s son—”

  “We’re already allies with Neu Bosa!”

  “This would strengthen that alliance. And Khaled would feel happier if Aniya was tied to a Sandarian House rather than a foreign power.”

  This was why Alistar was too busy to see her. He was being groomed for life as a pampered prince. He, Princess Aniya, and the Fire Walkers were being offered up as sacrificial lambs on a political platter just to make some Housemen happy. Did Alistar get any say in how to live his life? Did the Princess? None of it seemed fair.

  “When?” was all Mina managed to say.

  “The proposal will be drafted shortly, whilst our Hartnord guests are with us. The actual marriage will likely take place in the coming Gai’s Seed.”

  Gai’s Seed, the season of renewal and growth. They still had the rest of Rahn’s Dawn and then Lune’s Shado
w to get through. That meant Alistar would be married off in less than half a year. Gods, he’d become a prince. Would Alistar accept or flee? She’d always thought Alistar valued training as a warrior more than marriage. He spoke often of the isles of Neu Bosa and the adventures they could have at sea together—him, her, and Raj.

  Talin patted her shoulder. “I know you two are close—”

  “We’re not close.”

  “He’s your sorran. That kind of bond is always close.”

  Except the sorran bond had never worked for them, though they’d kept it hidden. Only Raj knew the truth.

  “Once the proposal has been made, he cannot remain as your sorran,” Talin said.

  “Why not? If the marriage isn’t until Gai’s Seed—”

  “It wouldn’t be proper, Mina.”

  “What, because I’m a girl?”

  “Essentially.” The word was laced with sympathy.

  Her gut warmed at the implication that she would be anything but proper with her sorran. No one cared before, she wanted to argue, but she bit her tongue. She wasn’t a girl before, and it wasn’t Talin’s fault this foolishness was being thrust upon her.

  “If you’re interested, Prince Rais was asking after you.” Talin nudged her.

  “Me?”

  “He wants you to serve as his sorran. It’s all he spoke about on the journey south. He mentioned something about a pact the two of you made.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. She had offered to serve as his sorran if he agreed to help keep Prince Ravel from the throne, but that was before the Prince of Poison had been placed under house arrest for his deeds—and before she’d revealed her true sex and blood fire to an arena full of people. She hadn’t expected Prince Rais to remain committed to their bargain.

  “Wouldn’t that be improper?”

  Talin chuckled. “I don’t think Rais cares. I’m warning you now, he’ll try and corner you after his ceremony. It’s your choice, but Rais would appreciate having a tournament champion for a sorran. And, I think these next few days are the beginning of a new dawn. Times are changing fast and you’ll need to decide who you wish to be.”

  She stared into his dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Once things have settled, Iman will need to return to Arlent. No doubt she’d welcome your company, and as my daughter and heir, I’d like for you to take a more active interest in our House and its future. But…”

  Her stomach fluttered whenever he spoke of her as his daughter. “But?”

  “You’re young, and there’s plenty of time for that. The King needs me to remain as his sorran whilst this transition with the Hartnords takes place. I would appreciate your company, as well. I don’t want you to be bored. We’ll need to find you something to do.”

  She shuffled into his side and leaned her head against his shoulder. “If you want me to stay, just say so.”

  He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. “Is it selfish that I want my daughter close?”

  She strained a look up and grinned. “Not at all.”

  “Times like these may be rare.”

  “Then we’ll treasure them.”

  Talin’s essence bloomed through the bond like the first rays of dawn. “Do you want to dance? I can spare a little time before the ceremony.”

  Mina slid off the bench and gripped Hawk’s hilt. “I’m already warmed up.”

  Talin stepped beside her, his height dwarfing her own. He put his left hand on his own sword and drew it in a single flourish. The action was smooth, powerful. Of a warrior. The greatest warrior in all Sandair, and he was her father. It sent a thrill through her spine.

  If the Fire Walkers were facing another battle, then Mina would be ready.

  5

  THE HELBOND CEREMONY

  The afternoon sky burned a deeper shade of red. Mina returned to her shared room sweaty but satisfied. Iman sat at the dresser wearing a silver dress and her purple sahn tied around her waist. She forwent her usual turban and let her shoulder-length hair rest naturally, with two silver hoops dangling from her ears. The effect looked feminine, but Iman still cut a formidable figure. Her attention was fixed on a scroll in one hand—a glass of wine held in the other.

  Iman glanced up. “Did you almost forget about the ceremony?” She nodded toward their shared cistern. “Go wash but be quick about it. You stink like a camel.”

  Mina pulled a face and skipped into the cistern. Iman had already lit a few lamps, enough to light their tiny room. It was just as cramped as their shared lodgings during the tournament—barely big enough for Iman’s bed and Mina’s lounger—but at least the furniture didn’t look like it was about to fall apart. Mina unbuckled her scabbard and sword, carefully placing them on a stool beside the bath, and shrugged off the rest of her clothes into a heap. She slipped into the water. It wasn’t cool like she expected, but warm. “Did you heat this?”

  “I heat all my baths,” Iman called back.

  Iman had the gall to complain about Mina using her fire frivolously when she wasted her own blood on petty comfort? She tutted and sank until the waters lapped her chin. Its warmth soothed and eased the tension in her muscles. Perhaps she’d try heating her own baths. She grabbed the lavender-scented soap and scrubbed her underarms.

  Did Prince Rais truly plan to ask her to serve as sorran knowing who she was?

  It meant making a bond and serving a master—neither of which appealed to her. Prince Rais would be able to order her to do whatever he wished. How was that any different from a forced marriage? From being forced to use blood fire as a Fire Walker? She wouldn’t be her own man—woman. She wouldn’t be able to make her own choices.

  And would it be proper? For a woman to serve a man? She sat up, splashing water. Life had been less complex when she’d been hiding behind Malik. Now she had to worry about being proper, for Lune’s sake.

  Could she refuse a Prince she’d sworn promises to?

  Would Talin be disappointed if she did?

  Iman opened the cistern door and leaned against the archway. “Taking your time, girl. Have you thought about what you’re wearing tonight?”

  “I have those black robes from my bondrite.”

  Iman offered her a towel. “I’ve got something else in mind.”

  Mina climbed out of the bath, wrapped the towel around her waist, and followed Iman back into the room. A purple silk dress hung from the dresser’s edge. Its color matched House Arlbond, and the silks flowed in layers, thin at the top and then spilling into ruffles at the bottom. Tiny silver crescents stitched into the fabric glittered like stars.

  It was beautiful.

  Mina ran her finger down the soft silk. “You made this?”

  Iman poured herself another glass of wine and sat on the edge of her bed. “Not me, girl. Your mother. She had a skill for sewing, did Tira. It was the agreement we had between us: I’d do all the cooking and baking, and she’d do all the sewing and embroidery. She spent many nights on this design but didn’t get a chance to wear it. It’s yours.”

  A lump caught in Mina’s throat. She hadn’t returned to Arlent since learning the truth of her mother and owned nothing from her mother’s life, save the dagger gifted by Talin.

  “I’ve adjusted the sizing,” Iman said. “You’re a little taller than Tira.”

  “I’m taller than my mother? How could I possibly be taller than anyone?”

  “You’re Talin’s daughter, girl.”

  “I don’t look anything like him.”

  Iman chuckled. “Hawker blood is strong, but you’re his daughter through and though.” She raised her glass to the dress. “Try it on.”

  “It’s… it’s beautiful, truly, but I can’t wear this. Not tonight.”

  Iman raised a thick eyebrow. “And why not?”

  “Because I’m the winner of the tournament.” And Prince Rais will be there. “Warriors don’t wear dresses.”

  Iman sighed. She p
laced her wine glass down and patted the bed beside her. “Sit, girl.”

  Mina sat on the bed, tugging the towel tight.

  “Being a woman doesn’t make you any less of a warrior, nor does being a warrior make you less of a woman. You won the tournament. You. A girl and a Fire Walker. What message do you think that sends?”

  “That the King is easily fooled?”

  Iman snorted. “No woman has fought in the tournament in hundreds of years, and you won. No Fire Walker has received the King’s blessing, and you did. Other girls, other Fire Walkers, they’ll look upon you and see what they could obtain for themselves. Be proud of what you’ve achieved. Be proud of who you are. By hiding those aspects, you dishonor yourself.”

  “The Housemen will look at me and see a girl in a dress. Not a warrior.”

  “Pah. Housemen find any reason to belittle women. Why do their job for them? Tonight isn’t about them. Those Hartnords will look upon you and see a brave woman—and a Fire Walker who has achieved great things. We need to show them who Fire Walkers really are.”

  In truth, Mina had never worn a real dress before. The rags and castoffs she’d taken from the Temple of Gai in Khalbad were patched together, and after a while she’d chosen boys’ clothes because they were easier to run in and fight. Boys’ clothes were comfortable, but girls’… their designs could be completely impractical.

  Prince Rais wanted her for a sorran knowing she was a girl and a Fire Walker, and Alistar was still hers, despite it being improper. She’d show them improper. “What about my sahn?”

  “Noblewomen don’t need to wear one. But you can wrap it around your waist if need be.”

  “I need my waist free for my belt.”

  “Your belt?”

  “For my sword.”

  “For your…” Iman rubbed her forehead. “Can’t you leave it behind for one night?”

  “No warrior leaves home without their sword.”