Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Zarya wished for the hundredth time that she’d slept more the night before. She had woken around three a.m. from a dream about Arkon’s laughing eyes and flames all around her. She wished she could remember more of it. It didn’t feel like a real vision, only a fantasy of an overheated mind. Too much wine with dinner had made her want to do silly things like flirt with him. The nightmare was warning her not to be so ridiculous.

Zarya had all but launched herself out of bed and had thrown herself into work. It was the only thing that could calm her down, and she hadn’t resurfaced until the sorcerer had banged on her door.

Unlike her, Arkon looked well refreshed, and she knew she should probably tidy herself up. He didn’t seem to notice or care, so she forced herself not to either. Of all the people that could understand her manic moments, she felt Arkon would.

Zarya’s bare toes curled in the soft plush carpet as she watched Arkon move about, looking for whatever he needed to show her his magic. Her heart rate was still erratic from revealing her own to him. He hadn’t run away terrified from her. That was more than she could hope for.

Instead of fear, he’d looked at her like she was the saint that she’d pretended to be. Awe-struck, reverent, and with a dark flare of something she refused to analyze too closely in the runes glowing around him.

He’d been too busy looking at the weaving lines of runes around him to notice the threads that were trying to attach from him to her. Zarya had noticed, and it almost scared her as much as revealing his magic to her.

"A small demonstration," Arkon said, tearing off a corner of one of the blank pieces of paper she’d helped herself to during her adventures in the palace. He found a pencil and quickly sketched a design on the paper before folding it up in his palm. "The easiest way I’ve found to channel my power over the years is this—design what I want in a sigil form and charge it." The paper in Arkon’s palm burst into flame. It happened too quick for Zarya to see, but as Arkon crushed the ashes, a rose bloomed in its place. He offered her the rose, and her cheeks heated as she took it with a smile. No one had given her a rose before.

"Don’t be so impressed yet. This is the fun part," Arkon said and waggled his brows at her. "Once I’ve done a spell, my magic can replicate it without any assistance." His fingers danced and roses began appearing on the table, her chairs, the pillows of her unmade bed.

Zarya laughed in delight and then groaned. "So that’s how you made so many cabbages appear!"

"You’re never going to forgive me for the cabbages, are you?" Arkon said, his grin still unrepentant.

"Never." Zarya twisted the rose between her fingers. "Fire is definitely your element."

"Like water is yours," Arkon said with a nod.

Zarya cocked her head. "I never told you that."

"Didn’t have to. Your magic is like winter ice. Can you summon it or weave it whenever you want?" he asked.

Zarya, caught up in the genuine delight on his face, wove a small spell, her fingers looping around the air like she was braiding. A delicate replica of his rose gathered in her hand, but it was made of ice. She offered it to him, and he took it with a bright laugh.

"We are going to have so much fun together, lupa. I just know it," he said, his eyes crinkling in the corners with mischief.

Zarya needed something to do with her hands, so she began to gather up the roses around the room.

"You think assassinating a group of men is going to be fun?"

Arkon didn’t seem offended in the slightest. "I think the logistics of making it happen will be. I do love a challenge. Speaking of, I don’t suppose you know where any of the camps are? It would help to know just how far my teleportation spell needs to go."

Zarya placed the roses in the carafe of water she had brought up from the kitchens. "The one I was taken to, I destroyed. It was empty of prisoners because they were expecting a new...batch." Zarya took a shaky breath. "As soon as I saw Asa’s bracelet, I lost my reason. I know Arkadi escaped with another of the bone mages. Everything else was torn apart." She blocked out the memories of the burning building, mangled fencing, and the the reek of bodies. She’d turned into a wolf and fled straight after, too afraid to linger in case Arkadi tried to capture her.

Zarya blinked a few times to bring herself back to the present. Arkon was staring at the sketches she had pinned to the walls.

"These are the bone mages?" he asked, pointing to the row of men under their main targets.

"Yes. The ones I know of. There were only three plus the one I killed. This one," she said, tapping on a big brute with a crooked nose. "He is their leader. I don’t know any of their names, but if I had to guess, I would say they will be in charge of the remaining camps. I’m just unsure of how to locate them."

Arkon rubbed at the gray flecked stubble on his chin. Zarya knew she shouldn’t stare at him, but she couldn’t help it. He was still thrumming with smokey magic, and she wanted to scent the air like the wolf.

"Would our Varangian in the dungeon know where the camps are? As I mentioned before, Vlad got very chatty with a friend of mine called Sophia recently. Long story, but prior to his visit to Venice, he loved to boast about the general he knew. He also knew about the bone mages," Arkon said finally. "He’s got a complex sort of mental barrier spell in his mind that prevents me from getting more out of him and..."

"I can get rid of that," Zarya interrupted him. "I can tear it free if that’s what it takes. He and I never got along, but he might be willing to cooperate when he realizes I can remove the one thing that’s keeping you from executing him."

Arkon’s smile was a dark and wicked thing that heated her insides. "In that case, would you like to come and interrogate someone with me?"

Zarya grinned. "I would be delighted to, Grand Sorcerer."

"Might I suggest you fix your shirt first?" he said. Zarya looked down and swore when she saw the state of her buttons and part of the bra that she was flashing. Arkon was trying not to smirk. "I mean, I don’t mind it, but it would definitely help my concentration if you were covered up."

"Don’t flirt with me when I haven’t slept. It’s not fair," Zarya grumbled, turning her back to him and hastily re-buttoning her shirt. A warm brush of his magic tickled her ear.

"I haven’t begun flirting with you, lupa. When I do, trust me, you’ll know," he promised.

Zarya didn’t know how to answer that, so she stuffed her feet into her boots and finally turned back to him. He still had a teasing smirk on his face that made her want to slap him or kiss him. She was undecided. Small flames danced in his eyes, and her lips tingled.

Gods curse it.

Zarya did her best to push that feeling aside. They had a job to do. There was no guarantee that they would survive the fight that was coming, and she wasn’t foolish enough to hope for a future. Not again.