Chapter 23

The painof a loved one affects us more greatly than our own.

~ Dionadra, Essays on the Motivations of Men

Kaylina rode behind Vlerion as Crenoch carried them at top speed down the slope toward Port Jirador. Arms wrapped tightly around him, she pressed her cheek to his back and willed Frayvar to be okay. Every time she left, something happened to him. Why was the world targeting him instead of her? This was her big dream, not his.

“There’s too much smoke for it to be something burning in the hearth,” Vlerion said as they rode through the city gates, cresting a hill that gave them another view of the castle.

“My brother never burns anything. He tends everything he cooks assiduously.”

“The curse may add an ingredient not compensated for in his recipes.”

If that ugly plant was responsible for lighting the castle on fire, Kaylina would run up there with a sword and lop off every one of its branches and vines.

The air buzzed, and a sharp tingle ran through Kaylina as the world blurred. At first, she had no idea what was happening, but they went from running down a street to landing atop a bridge over the river. Crenoch had flashed.

The ringing of a gong sounded several blocks over.

“That’s the fire wagon,” Vlerion said. “I don’t know if they’ll be willing to step onto the premises though.”

“I’ll step on them. Just get me there.”

He did. A few seconds later, they reached the back of the castle, and Crenoch surged through the open gate into the courtyard.

Black smoke billowed out the kitchen windows and choked the air, stinging Kaylina’s eyes. She could feel the heat too, a sharp contrast to the cool air.

Flames licked at the edge of the high pantry window, and Kaylina wondered if someone had come up from the catacombs to start the fire. But why? The Virts couldn’t blame her or Frayvar for the men and munitions they’d lost down there, could they? As far as she knew, none of the men she’d seen—and who’d seen her—had survived to talk about it.

Vlerion sprang off before Kaylina could dismount and landed with his sword in his hand. Maybe he also believed someone other than the curse had been responsible for the fire.

He reached the doorway before her, calling, “I’ll look for your brother,” over his shoulder. “Stay outside.”

She ran to the well house and drew up a bucket of water but feared it would do little against a fire that had already grown large.

“Help!” came a pained cry from inside. Frayvar.

Kaylina almost dropped the bucket but kept it as she charged through the kitchen doorway, water sloshing over the edges. The smoke made it hard to see inside, and she almost tripped over pots and pans on the floor.

Heat roiled off flames burning tapestries, curtains, and the wooden cabinets. They also licked at the ceiling boards. She hadn’t realized there was so much flammable material in the stone castle.

A cry of pain came from the floor between the island and the pantry. That was why pans littered the floor. The huge wrought-iron pot rack had fallen, and Frayvar was pinned under it, a broken piece of the travertine countertop on top of it, adding to its weight. The rack was too heavy for him to move. It would be too heavy for Kaylina to move, too.

Vlerion shoved aside a cast-iron pot to crouch beside the rack. He touched the metal, jerked his hand back at the heat, then removed his shirt. He wrapped the material around the edge of the rack and, with a great flexing of his shoulders, heaved it upward.

Kaylina rushed forward, afraid Frayvar had broken bones and wouldn’t be able to move.

“I told you to stay outside,” Vlerion said, his voice raspy from the smoke, his back and arm muscles bulging as he held up the heavy rack with both hands.

“I told you I wouldn’t obey you.” Barely glancing at him, Kaylina grabbed her brother and pulled him out from under the rack.

“Exasperating.”

“As we’ve established!”

Frayvar groaned in pain, and Kaylina worried she was hurting him further, but she had to get him out of there and kept pulling. As gangly as he was, he was still tall and weighed a lot to her. Coughing from the smoke invading her throat, she struggled to drag him toward the door.

As soon as her brother had cleared the rack, Vlerion let it fall. He leaped toward them and lifted Frayvar in his arms.

“Out,” he ordered Kaylina.

With tears streaking down her eyes, and smoke curling up her nostrils, she had no reason to disobey this time. As she ran out after Vlerion and Frayvar, she glanced at the pantry, lamenting that her mead might be destroyed. The charred door stood open, several shelves burning. The mead was down in the root cellar, but the heat might ruin it. The fire might even have started down there.

She shook her head, gasping in fresh air as she ran into the courtyard. Frayvar was alive. That was all that mattered for now.

The fire wagon had arrived—sort of. The horses pulling it had stopped forty yards up the trail along the river. They and the men looked at the castle with concerned eyes, the horses because of the fire, the men because of the curse.

“Come closer,” Vlerion ordered as he lay Frayvar on the ground outside the stone wall of the courtyard. It provided protection from the fire and heat. “Get the hose out.”

“Let the cursed castle burn!” someone watching from across the river called.

But the firefighters either recognized Vlerion or were trained to obey orders, because they brought the wagon closer, then leaped down. Two men pulled the hose toward the courtyard, and another set up a pump to draw water from the river. Vlerion joined them, pointing out the well as another water source.

Kaylina wanted to help, but she had to make sure Frayvar was all right. His skin was red and warm, his eyes glazed, and soot darkened his sweaty hair.

“Are you okay?” She knelt beside him and pushed his shaggy bangs out of his eyes. “I’m so sorry things keep happening to you every time I leave. I’m going to kill that plant.”

Frayvar dragged a sooty sleeve across his watering eyes. “I don’t think it was the curse.” His voice was even raspier than Vlerion’s had been. “I heard something below. Not way below, like the clinks from the catacombs, but it came from the root cellar.” He coughed several times and wiped his eyes again before he could continue. “I grabbed the fireplace poker, opened the trapdoor, and went down. There wasn’t anyone there, but some of your mead was missing, and someone had left a lantern. The arsonists had to have come in from below.”

“Why would the Virts burn the castle? And steal my mead?”

Maybe they’d wanted their staging area back. And to drive out the pesky witnesses working in the castle.

“You didn’t see anyone?” she added.

“No, but I didn’t go exploring. My stew was on the fire.” Frayvar grimaced. “All my meals will be ruined. The opening tonight…”

“I know. It’s horrible.”

“There were people out front looking at the menu this morning. I took mead samples out, and more people came. Some said they’d be back as long as they could eat outside. I showed them all the tables in the courtyard and said that wasn’t a problem. They really liked the mead. It was all going to work. And now—” Another round of coughs took Frayvar.

“Relax.” Kaylina patted him down, trying to figure out if he had broken bones. That he was talking was a good sign, but she wanted to take him to see a healer.

His face contorted when she touched what had to be a tender area. Broken ribs?

Kaylina drew back. Better to let a healer do the exam.

“I like your ranger more now,” Frayvar admitted, closing his eyes. “He doesn’t seem as stuffy and aloof when he’s saving your life.”

“Odd.”

“Yeah. Though his face was the same, even when he was heaving the rack off me.” He opened his eyes. “Real steady and calm. You have no idea what he’s thinking.”

“He had to be thinking that someone was an idiot for crafting such an obnoxiously heavy pot rack.”

Crenoch walked over and stood beside them, his tail brushing the pebbles of the trail as he looked up and down the river. Why did Kaylina believe he’d decided he needed to guard them?

“Probably,” Frayvar said. “It was heavy. I’ve been told I’m not real expressive. Maybe Vlerion is like me. And grandma too. She laughs and jokes sometimes, but she’s usually got a blank face when you’re talking to her. I guess I do too.”

“We’re not the most normal family. Except for Silana, maybe.”

“Yeah. She takes after Dad. What I remember of him.”

“She’s not a deadbeat who abandoned his family because he couldn’t handle doing mundane chores and having Grandma tell him what to do.” For the first time, Kaylina realized that she had left the family too, drawn by something intangible. Needing to prove herself, yes, but maybe also feeling it would be easier without so many eyes upon her, without her loved ones worrying about and judging her. The realization that she might have some of their father in her was disturbing.

“I don’t remember much about him,” Frayvar said. “He played wooden snakes and rabbits with me.”

“He hugged you too. You hated that. You always tried to squirm away.”

“I prefer games to hugging.”

“You prefer everything to hugging. You’re never going to get a girlfriend.”

“I guess I should stop dreaming about Lady Saybrook then.”

“I think so.”

Vlerion stepped out of the courtyard, soot streaking his bare chest, his damp trousers clinging to him. He looked heroic. And hot.

Kaylina swallowed and pulled her gaze from his chest, glad that fires didn’t rouse the beast. Most battles didn’t either. She wondered what had happened in the catacombs, why he’d lost his equanimity down there.

“How is he?” Vlerion pointed to Frayvar.

“Broken. Would your doctor be willing to treat a young chef?” Maybe she should have asked about another healer, one not associated with the rangers, but their doctor was experienced, and she wanted the best for her brother.

“I’ll ensure he is,” Vlerion said. “Crenoch can carry the three of us.”

The thought of returning to the taybarri’s back with Vlerion’s arm wrapped around her again had some appeal, but…

Kaylina bit her lip and peered through the gate. She should go with her brother, but she wanted to figure out what had happened here. And, if it was possible, she wanted to salvage her mead. Especially if someone lurking below had stolen some. What if they came back for the rest?

“The fire is out?” Kaylina didn’t see any more flames, only sooty stone and water dripping from the eaves and streaking the walls. The heat had dissipated.

“It is.”

“Thank you for your help.” Though it was difficult, she made herself add, “My lord.”

His eyebrow twitched, and she knew it had sounded like a cat had dragged that honorific out of her throat with its hind claws.

“Frayvar likes you now,” she added. Maybe that would mollify Vlerion.

“Only Frayvar?”

While she groped for a witty response, a firefighter walked out.

“Flames are all out, my lord. We found this in the pantry.” The man lifted the remains of a broken bottle. “It smells of kerosene. Looks like someone started this intentionally.”

Vlerion took the bottle, sniffed the interior, and nodded. “The Virts have been down in the catacombs, making trouble lately. I’ll send men to do another flush.”

The firefighter’s sooty face blanched, making Kaylina wonder if he was associated with the group. All he said was, “Yes, my lord. If there’s nothing else?”

“No. It’s Sergeant Tannerhook, right?”

The man blinked. “Yes, my lord. I didn’t realize…”

“I’ll tell your superior that you did good work today.”

“Thank you.” The firefighter bowed before rounding up his men and equipment.

“There was an explosion too,” Frayvar said. “That’s how it started and when the rack fell.”

“The Virts are good at explosions.” Vlerion gathered Frayvar in his arms again and hoisted him to Crenoch’s back. “Can you roll over and hang on?”

Frayvar hissed in pain at the jostling to his ribs but nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

His my lord was a lot more sincere than Kaylina’s. Maybe if Vlerion had pulled her out of danger, she would have an easier time with the words. Or… maybe not. For some reason, his insistence that she use them rankled. She did appreciate that he’d saved her life in the catacombs, and she would keep his secret for him.

“Do you need a hand up?” Vlerion turned toward Kaylina after he’d settled Frayvar astride.

“I’ll stay here. Someone should let the people who show up for dinner know there’s been a slight delay with our opening.”

“You don’t think the charred wood, sooty walls, and smoke hanging in the air will tell them that?”

“I prefer the personal touch.”

“She wants to check on her books, my lord,” Frayvar said.

“That’s not it.” But his words sent a surge of alarm through Kaylina. “Why, what happened to my books? They’re upstairs, not in the kitchen. The fire didn’t go up there, did it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good. It’s the mead I was planning to check on.”

Vlerion pressed his lips together. “The arsonist may still be around. You shouldn’t stay here alone.”

He lifted a hand, as if he would grab her and hoist her up behind her brother, whether she wanted it or not.

Kaylina skittered back, and Crenoch stepped between them before Vlerion could decide if he seriously wanted to go after her. The furry blue snout turned left and right as Crenoch considered them both. His eyes seemed to say, Be good.

Vlerion speared his mount with a dark glare. At least he didn’t give Kaylina an irritated one. His admission that it bothered him that the taybarri was more into her than him floated through her mind, and sympathy welled up in her. He hadn’t asked for that curse. With that beast always lurking within, threatening to come out, he was forced to be a different man than he should have been, all because of a choice a long-dead ancestor had made.

Kaylina stepped around Crenoch and clasped Vlerion’s hands. “I want to look around. I’ll be okay. I’ll crack any arsonists I see in the head with a lead round. And,” she added, thinking it might please him, “I’ll come for training in the morning.” On impulse, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

As she drew back, his mother’s words came to mind: Do not flirt with him.

But a kiss on the cheek wasn’t flirting. It was showing gratitude. And Vlerion’s visage softened.

“I’ll send someone to help you look,” he said, swinging up behind Frayvar.

“A ranger?” Kaylina gazed toward the opposite side of the river. The man who’d shouted to let the castle burn down was gone, but other onlookers remained, drawn by the action.

Vlerion followed her gaze. “Someone who won’t attract notice. Jankarr, if he’s around. Wait until he arrives to go inside.” His tone made it clear that it was an order, but the squint that accompanied it suggested he wasn’t positive she would obey it.

“Of course.” She smiled.

His squint deepened, but Frayvar groaned and gripped his ribs. Vlerion nudged Crenoch into motion.

Only as they rode away did Kaylina realize she recognized one of the onlookers. The woman’s hood was up, but it didn’t quite cover her face. Jana.