3. CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

V al and Aris began their reconnaissance mission on Maniel the next day and continued for several days. After dinner, when everyone had retired to their rooms for the night, Val would go straight to Aris's office and tell him everything she knew about the Manielian noble families. And, most importantly, what she knew about the High King of the Ember Throne.

True to his word, Aris did not give Lucia, Atria, or Katia severe punishments. They were relegated to nightly clean up duty for a month, as well as an extra five miles added to their run every day. While some would think that this punishment was fair, the snide whispers that followed Val down the hall like acrid smoke indicated Lycas and Elric, did not.

The discord spread by the captains was growing more and more palpable within Light's Tower. Even the foot soldiers began to sneer at her as she passed. She knew the cat was out of the bag about her betrothal . . . And all of Light's Tower knew.

Still, as the days went by, Lucia, Atria, and Katia had not once mentioned anything about Lycas's accusation. She knew it was because they did not know how to ask her about it. None of them would've had even the slightest clue about what her family had planned for her. None, except for Lucia, who came from the Niro family, a lesser noble family, but a noble family all the same. She had known all along, but it was never something they explicitly spoke about.

Val sighed and shifted in her usual chair in Aris's office. It was late. The candlelight pouring over the many pieces of parchment and books on genealogy sprawled out in front of them caused the shadows to flicker over the pages, making the tiny ornate words harder to read than usual.

Val had spent the last couple nights telling Aris everything she had ever heard about the Peruro magic. Different families had different specialties—this was true all across Krigor. The Augusta family had the ability to produce white-hot flames, whereas the family that the evil Praiton Chief, Decius, hailed from had strong blue fire.

The Peruros, however, were an exceptional case. Descended directly from the goddess Calida's first son, the Peruros were often referred to as Born of the Dragon. Their resilience to intense heat surpassed any other Manielian family's, but the Peruros guarded the true extent of their magic most jealously. Val knew little of these secrets, having never been close enough to the royal family to hear anything other than rumors. She could only tell Aris things she had observed, theories she had heard. The rest, they had to find through their own research.

"I don't think I can read another sentence," Val groaned, her eyes drooping as they struggled to take in even one more word. The image of High King Atticus—Titus's grandfather—and his golden glaive swam in her vision as she yawned widely.

Aris was quietly perusing the pages, his brow furrowed, his long fingers curled under his chin. The only sign that he was even a little bit as exhausted as she was were the occasional yawns that would slip out of his mouth, which he quickly tried to stifle with a fist.

"Well, at least we have lots of information on Titus's grandfather." His voice was hoarse from the hours of silence they had been sharing. "Not much to be said about their Ember Magic, though."

"Manielians tend to be very secretive about our abilities," Val replied, yawning widely. "It gives us an edge in battle, you see."

"I definitely do see." With a sigh, he closed the book with a loud thump. Dust exploded into the air as the pages slammed together, causing Aris to cough slightly. "Well, there is only so much we can do in one night."

Val let out a small grunt in reply, laying her head down on Aris's desk and resting her weary eyes. Spending hours reading about all the families she hated really took it out of her.

Aris chuckled, and she heard him stand. "It sounds like we need a little pick me up," he said. A large mug of very strong-smelling ale was placed in front of her. Val let out a moan of longing, and reached for it like a desperate animal.

Aris poured himself one and came around the desk to sit in the spare chair beside hers. "Cheers," he said, giving her a gentle, tired smile.

She smiled back. "Cheers." Their mugs clinked, and they both took a long pull from it and simultaneously sighed.

"Thank you again for this," Aris said, his finger circling the rim of his cup. "You have been a big help."

"I'm honestly surprised you asked," she said. "You hardly ever ask for help, General ." The emphasis on the word made him chuckle again, that same lazy, self-assured noise that made her toes curl in the strangest way.

"Well, forgive me, I sometimes forget I have those like you."

"You always do things alone," Val hedged, not looking up from her mug. She did not know how forthcoming Aris was. He was almost always a closed book—a pretty face and a flirty smile laid over an image of a general who was always in charge, always in control. Even now, the flicker of an expression passed over his face, overshadowing that lazy, arrogant smile.

"Force of habit, I suppose." He took a swig of his drink, as if for a distraction.

It seemed as if Aris was nothing but a series of distractions. She always watched him, noted how those smiles of his never quite reached his eyes as he flirted.

Val desperately wanted to know what made the enigmatic general tick. She knew that he had been cast out by the Prince of Ganiea in an attempt to save his life after the Harvest Throne fell to Praiton. Knew that it had destroyed him to see Ganiea's High King fall, as head of the King's Guard—not to mention leaving someone he considered a brother in Praiton's hands. This had all created the male before her, and the curious way he led the Pillar Legion.

Val had lots of experience with armies and militaries in Maniel. The Knight Commander of these forces never got their hands dirty. They sat in the rear, commanded from afar. Aris was not like that. Not only did he refuse to even be called the Knight Commander—even though as founder of the Pillar Legion, he technically was —he was always in the thick of every battle. Every maneuver or training, he was right there with the rest of them.

"Were you used to handling everything alone as a knight in Ganiea?" she asked.

Aris did not answer. His finger still swirled around the rim of the cup, his eyes following the movement. "I mostly guarded the royal family. I was assigned to Prince Minos mostly," he said finally. "We'd known each other since we were children. He was my best friend."

Val watched him. He didn't look up at her.

"Have you heard any news from Ganiea? How is Minos faring?"

A twitch in his jaw. A small fracture in the mask. "I have heard nothing but what our spies have told us."

"And?" Val was pushing, she knew she was, but she always felt like Aris needed to be pushed. That perfect mask of his always shone so brightly, and the need to see behind it was too strong for her.

"He is alive," he replied stiffly. "Complying."

"General—" Val began, but Aris turned to her and smiled. It was like watching a shadow move away from the moon. It lit up his handsome face, but those eyes . . . those eyes remained empty.

"It's late," he said, placing his mug down on the desk. "We should turn in. Unless . . ." He leaned towards her, his now free hand reaching to brace on the back of her chair, that same sultry grin spreading across his face. "You wish to turn in together."

Val's eyes narrowed. She knew what he wanted, knew he was waiting for her to let out a groan of disgust and dismiss him. The flirting, the arrogance, it was all a front. She saw this now.

So, she called him on it.

She moved closer to him, their knees now touching. The surprise that crossed Aris's face as she leaned forward and brushed his thigh lightly with her finger only confirmed her suspicions.

"Maybe we should," she whispered, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes. They were so close she knew he could feel the heat radiating from her—the only tell that she was nervous. Her hand rested heavily on his leg, his thigh solid with muscle. His eyes fell on her hand, then darted back up to look her in the eyes. Her heart beat so loud she could feel it in her ears.

And then he looked away. Clearing his throat, he got to his feet and moved back behind the desk. She let out a long-held breath that shook slightly.

"It's late," Aris said again, still not looking at her. Val watched him fidget, moving about the room gathering the papers and the books, almost as if needing his hands to be doing something. Then she let out a small laugh and rose to her feet.

"I thought so," she said softly. Val stood, watching as Aris stacked the books, still not looking up at her. A spark of frustration flared in her and, without thinking, Val reached forward and slammed her hand down right on top of the book the general was attempting to gather up. The force of her palm against the cover caused a swell of steam to escape from underneath her hand, sparks flying. Aris jumped and looked up at her in alarm. Their eyes locked.

"I see through you, General."

And then she turned on her heel and walked out the door.

"Are you okay, Captain?" Katia peered at her anxiously over their breakfast the next morning. Val's three officers were practically falling asleep onto their eggs. Between their late-night punishments and their early morning runs, all three of them looked gaunt and weary. Lucia's hair was ever so slightly disheveled and Katia was sagging into Atria, her eyelids drooping.

Val was not feeling so chipper herself. Last night in Aris's office had set her on edge. She wondered if he was going to invite her back tonight after what happened. The thought of his leg under her hand still made her fingertips tingle. The brief second that she'd made him vulnerable . . . Unmasked. The look on his face then still played endlessly in her mind.

She took a sip of her coffee. "I'm fine," she replied with a terse smile.

Katia did not look convinced but was stopped from prying more by Atria laying her head down on the table with a thump .

"I cannot believe how long we have to do clean up duty for," she moaned.

"We could have been imprisoned or flogged, like in Maniel," Lucia said, cutting a piece of sausage with prim movements. "Careful what you complain about, Atria."

Atria's mouth snapped shut and she hastily looked back down at her plate.

"Still, the general could have punished those captains, too," Katia mumbled. "They were the ones who started the trouble."

"No one forced you lot to attack Lycas." Val pushed a grilled tomato around her plate, but her heart swelled with affection at the memory. "Although I am grateful to you all for it."

"It was worth it," Atria grumbled, stabbing at her eggs viciously with her fork. "He has no right to speak to you like that, much less bring up . . ." She trailed off. All three of them looked up at her, then away.

Atria and Katia came from common families in Maniel, just like Lycas. They would have had no idea about her betrothal to the High Prince. The fact that Lycas knew about it was befuddling enough. And judging by the way they shifted uncomfortably, they were still unsure how to ask her about it.

Lucia's sharp, golden eyes darted up to meet hers. They shared a pointed look.

"It's alright," Val said finally. Katia and Atria's heads jerked up to look at her and Val's heart gave an anxious squeeze. "You can ask me about it, you know."

The two girls stared at her, as if struck dumb. Lucia, however, quietly turned back to eating her breakfast.

"I . . ." Katia began, her topaz eyes wide. "I didn't want to ask just in case . . . in case . . ." The small girl's face crumpled. "Oh Captain, was it terrible?"

"It couldn't have been easy," Atria chimed in, her hands wringing together anxiously. "Being betrothed to someone so . . ."

Bloodthirsty. Vicious. Heartless. Val knew all the words used to describe the prince of the Ember Throne. They were often the same words people used to describe the High King . . . and her own brothers. But as she looked at the two girls in front of her, both leaning towards her with understanding and sympathy on their faces, Val's tension eased. Her shoulders relaxed.

"No, it definitely wasn't," she said. "But you two were fortunate to be spared the ways of the Ember Court. Arranged marriages for the sake of power were to be expected for the nobility." Beside her Lucia's grip tightened on the fork she held in her long, delicate fingers, as if remembering her own past.

The Ember Court was ruled by fire and blood. The noble families were shuffled like pawns, all vying for the prize—power. Val's family was offered that chance, and she had squandered it.

Looking down at the table, Val swallowed the burn in her throat.

A small, freckled hand shot forward and grabbed hers. She jumped, just as a second, more delicate pair of fingers grasped her other. Both Katia and Atria stared up at her with steely looks of solidarity, clutching her hand tight in theirs. And in that moment, Val felt silly for ever thinking she needed to hide anything from her sisters. Suddenly, the memory of her hand on the general's leg and his shocked face flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning and Val hastily shoved it aside. Of course, she could never tell them about that.

After breakfast, Val and her group headed off to training, her cohorts dragging their feet along, grumbling in exhaustion, and all the while, Val's mind spun. The whispers from the other soldiers followed her as she passed, even catching a glare from Elric on her way to the ring, and still, all she could think about was Aris and the look on his face when she had made a move on him.

She knew it had been a bluff—Aris probably knew it too—and yet, why did the very thought make her flush with embarrassment? As if he had truly rebuffed her.

Val threw herself into that day's hand-to-hand training with Lucia, hoping that the mix of fire and fists would shake her from her obsession with what had almost happened in Aris's office. Lucia was the only one who could match her in terms of power, so they were in a ring to themselves, flames rippling around them, dirt and twigs crunching underfoot. She sparred Lucia with all of her might, losing herself fully in the heat of her flames. Her Ember Magic was raging, billowing out of her in waves of nerves and frustration.

"Easy," Lucia hissed at her as her flames nearly incinerated a nearby bench. "Why so angry today, Captain?"

"I'm not angry," Val replied, but it came out more truculent than anything.

Lucia's eyes glinted. "Then you're doing a very good impression of it."

Val was exhaling great, angry clouds of steam with each breath. Panting and determined, her golden-brown hands twined firmly with wrappings, she circled her second in command, attempting to keep her core fire cool and under control. It was not easy, though. Each time she attempted to calm the flame raging inside her, the feel of Aris's thigh under her hands slunk, unbidden, back into her mind.

"Where have you been sneaking off to at night, Captain?" Lucia asked. She spun like an acrobat, a wave of fire reaching towards Val, who bent backwards, the flames barely missing the tip of her nose.

"Nowhere for you to be concerned with," Val panted through gritted teeth.

Lucia smirked. "How intriguing."

She leapt for Val, fists flying, flames curling her knuckles. Val's sore arms rose to block each blow, Lucia's hits coming heavy and quick with a masterful precision. She was pummeled from all sides, forced into defense, until, with a furious yell, a fan of white-hot flames sent Lucia flying backwards.

It was an out-of-control wave of heat—the signature Augusta move—something her family had arrogantly coined Heavenly Fire. The wall of flames did not wane though, even when she attempted to pull it back. The white tendrils raged out of control, wrapping around the ring, twisting in the wind.

Lucia huffed, hair smoking slightly as she pulled herself up from the ground. "Was that really necessary?" she asked, despondently holding up a limp piece of singed hair. "It had barely recovered from our last battle."

Val was panting and sweating profusely, swaying where she stood. Ember Magic to that degree raised her internal temperature to an intolerable level. Heavenly Fire never failed to sap her strength and overheat her significantly—a fact that used to enrage her older brothers. The memory of her eldest brother Lorenzo's disgusted curl of his lip at her collapsing within a ring of white flames sparked in her mind, and with that, the billowing flames flickered, and died.

Frustrated, Val ripped the wrappings from around her hands, feeling the scorched fabric crumble against her fingers. She stumbled towards the edge of the ring, flushed and dizzy, suddenly thankful that she was free of her usual armor that day. Even with her simplified outfit—a thin sleeveless top with light cotton breeches designed to let her body vent as much heat as possible—Val's vision still swam with white light as she staggered towards the water bench.

A warm hand seized her by the elbow, stopping her just short of toppling over.

"Come," Lucia said gently. "You need a cool bath."

"I'm fine."

"You're overheated, Captain," she insisted, tutting at her just like her mother used to. "Stop being stubborn." The sound made her smile.

Lucia helped support her back towards Light's Tower, her body protesting the whole way. It was a warm, breezy day within the mountains that enshrouded the rebel base. The sun shone down on them as they limped through the back courtyard, into the cool, shaded stone of the tower's interior halls. The minute the cool air washed over her aching body, Val let out a long, whimpering sigh.

Lucia scoffed. "You overdid it," she admonished.

Val chuckled and shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to let it out."

It was only as she looked down to focus on putting one foot after another did she realize her clothing was burnt almost up to her ribcage. While cotton was breathable, it definitely wasn't fireproof. Not like she was. Steam was still undulating from her body as they shouldered open the door—and almost crashed, headfirst, into Aris.

"What happened?" he asked immediately, looking down at Val and Lucia's smoldering clothing and glistening bodies. Val belatedly realized how much of her skin was exposed and was thankful for how her elevated temperature disguised the blush that was blooming under his hazel-eyed scrutiny.

"Training, General," Lucia replied briskly. "Captain Augusta just overdid it a bit. We need to get her to a cold bath."

Aris reached out a hand. "Let me—"

But Lucia stopped him. "You cannot touch her, General. You do not have the same heat tolerance that we do."

"I can manage," Aris said, giving her a gentle smile. "Besides, there are some things I need to discuss with Valeria anyway."

Lucia glanced at Val, whose panic was probably evident in her eyes, and opened her mouth to protest when Aris cut in again.

"Lucia, as your general, please . . ."

Val's lieutenant stiffened. She could never disobey a direct order, much less one from the general. With an apologetic look at Val, she released her arm and handed her over to Aris.

"Thank you, Lucia," Aris said, inclining his head to her. "I'll take care of her."

Lucia nodded rigidly and turned to head back towards the training ring.

Val did not miss the slight wince that passed over Aris's face as he slung her arm over his shoulder and wrapped a hand around her exposed waist. She could have sworn she even heard a sizzling noise.

"Gods, Valeria," he hissed. "How is your body this . . ."

"Occupational hazard, General," Val said stiffly. They began to stumble towards the endless winding staircase that led to the residential wing. She wanted desperately to wrench herself from Aris's grip, but her legs were still trembling with the weight of standing, much less dragging herself up hundreds of flights of stairs. His fingers were splayed across her bare skin—which she knew was still probably as hot as newly forged steel—and his touch alone was making her skin shiver in a desperate, needy way.

They limped on in silence for a bit, Aris's face set, as if trying to ignore the pain from her scorching skin. Val glanced over at him when the smallest hiss of air escaped from his teeth. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"I know."

The stairs wound around and around as they staggered up one step after another.

Desperate to ignore the prickling of her skin and the weight of his body against hers, Val asked, "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about, General?"

Aris's brow was furrowed in concentration as his heavy boots hit each step with a resounding thud. Val could even see a light sheen of sweat building around his temples. "I got some unsettling intel this morning," he replied, his voice strained. "I wanted to discuss it with you. I was actually on my way to find you."

Val couldn't contain her surprise that Aris was still willing to associate with her after last night. She assumed he would avoid her like a plague today. Instead, he was pressed up against her, closer to her than he had ever been . . . and she was burning the shit out of him.

"What kind of unsettling intel?"

Aris grimaced. "We'll talk once we get you cooled down."

The walk to her room took an unbearably long time. It felt like an age that she was pressed into Aris's side, his hands cool on her hot skin. The scent of him—like sweet-smelling earth and pine—had her feeling dizzy all over again. And she hated every second of it.

Finally, they pushed their way into her bedroom—the small space where her clothes claimed every flat surface available. Val flushed at the state of it, but Aris chuckled, the deep reverberation so close to her it made her stomach tighten.

"I'd tell you to feel free to leave some clothes on my floor next time, but I don't think you have any more clothes left," he purred in her ear.

So, they were back to this. She had been sure he wouldn't flirt with her again after last night, but she supposed that this was just who Aris was. Or, at least, who he pretended to be.

"Shut up," she snapped, and he chuckled again as he helped her stagger to the bathing room.

"Are you going to stay and watch me undress, or will you be an actual gentleman for once and give me a moment?"

Aris's eyes glinted, the mischievous twinkle lighting up those hazel irises as they did a slow, lazy scan of her already partially exposed body. "I would not object to staying."

For one, horrible, ridiculous moment of insanity, Val considered it. She had attempted to call his bluff the other night, only to confirm her theory that his flirtatious, playful nature was all a front.

And he had rejected her.

The ache of her bruised ego egged her on at his suggestion, but Val's rationality beat the voice away. Would stripping in front of him prove anything? Would it lead to anything other than pure disaster? The answer was, probably not.

With a heated glare, Val kicked off her boots and jumped, fully clothed, into the bathing pool. A wave of cold water splashed Aris, and steam billowed out of the pool with a gentle hiss as her boiling body was submerged in the cool liquid—which turned warm almost instantly.

Val's body caved in as the cool water tempered her internal flame. She could feel it go out, replaced with nothing but smoke and ember. Sighing, she submerged herself nearly to her nose, opening her eyes to find a slightly damp Aris examining the hand that had been around her waist, which was now red and blistered.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Aris smirked, brushing at his wet clothes. "No, you're not."

"I wasn't talking about the water," she said, and pointed sheepishly to his burned hand.

"Ah." He held it up, as though admiring the blisters beginning to form, "I've had worse. Don't worry." Crouching in front of her at the edge of the pool, he sat down, his gold armor bulky and cumbersome as he attempted to get comfortable at the pool's edge. He plunged his injured hand into the water before almost instantly withdrawing it. "Gods, Valeria, was this supposed to be cold?"

"It was," she admitted, smiling at him. He laughed, flicking water off his blistered fingers.

"It is incredible," he said. Almost absentmindedly, he reached into the pool and picked up her hand, which had been floating at the surface of the water. He caressed it, his fingers cool and damp against her still warm skin.

"What is?" she breathed. She didn't know why she was letting him hold her hand like this, but each touch of his calloused fingers on her tanned skin provoked a familiar tightening sensation. But this time, it wasn't in her chest.

"How our magic changes our bodies to adapt to it." He flipped her hand over, tracing the delicate lines on her palm. "Your temperature should have been enough to kill a normal being. And yet . . ." He rotated her hand over again, this time running a rough finger down the delicate skin of the middle of her forearm, causing goosebumps to ripple down her skin. "You are still perfect," he murmured.

They sat like this for a moment, Aris stroking her arm with a casual finger, Val trying to control the unruly internal flame in her that was flickering out of control again, causing more steam to rise out of the pool.

"What did you want to talk to me about, General?" Val whispered, breaking him out of his reverie.

Aris stopped, as if realizing what he was doing, before slowly lowering her hand. "Our spies have informed me that Titus has set his sights on something more concerning than Bridah."

Val cocked her head. "What could possibly be more concerning than Bridah?"

Aris's hazel eyes flicked up to meet hers. "Mount Cinis."

The rebellious flame in her extinguished almost immediately. Suddenly, her body felt unbelievably cold.

"Titus is attempting . . ." The words couldn't seem to form. Her body was rigid, and she couldn't breathe past the weight of the terror sinking onto her chest.

Mount Cinis was located at the southernmost point of Maniel. An active volcano, the heat and lava surrounding the area was insurmountable to any—even the strongest Ember Magic wielders. But its biggest allure was the dragons. As the only place the creatures dwelt in all of Krigor, Mount Cinis had become an object of fascination for many Manielians. Particularly, those of strong Ember Magic.

"I need to know, Valeria," Aris implored, leaning closer to her, "I need to know what the test of Mount Cinis is. All I have heard is that it is the true test of a fire warrior. And that there is an extremely dangerous prize at the end."

"Yes," Val whispered. "That is true. To face down the strongest wall of flames on this earth and survive is the only way to win."

"Win what?"

She looked up at him, and she could see the fear in his eyes, the concern. Aris so rarely had an expression that wasn't flirty or passive, but she could see every line of worry on his beautiful face.

"A dragon," she whispered. "A dragon that will become your companion. To do with as you please."

Aris seemed to stop breathing.

"But it is impossible," she insisted, rising partially from the pool. "It has never been done. Many have tried, but all have perished. The fire and lava of Mount Cinis are too intense, even for the nobility." She rose out of the pool, her clothes clinging to her body, and reached out without thinking, pulling his chin back to face her. He seemed to be rapidly spiraling into horror. "Even for the High King," she told him.

Aris stared at her, her hand still firmly clenched on his face, their gazes locked. Fear and tension were thickening the air like the steam emanating from the pool around them, and Val held her breath as Aris's eyes left hers. They trailed down her face, all the way down her body. It was only then that she realized that her thin training clothes were plastered to her . . . and had become very, very see-through. Everything was on display, and the general's eyes swept down her body.

Every curve, every angle was visible, her nipples peaking under his scrutiny. She knew he saw it. His regal eyebrow arched slightly, and his gaze darkened, all thought of dragons and dangerous tests seeming to fly from his mind.

"You should probably go back under the water now, Valeria," Aris murmured, but the sound was different from his usual, calm baritone. It was feral. Almost a growl. Something she had never heard, even in all his insinuations, all of his flirtations and impositions. There was genuine desire in that noise.

Instantly, Val released his jaw and plunged back into the water, her face bright red, her heart hammering so loudly in her chest she was amazed little seismic ripples weren't emerging in the water.

Aris cleared his throat and got up hastily from the edge of the pool, straightening his armor, rearranging his sword . . . tactfully. Val's eyes lingered on this and he shifted, turning his back to her, his hands on his hips.

"What are the chances that Titus will succeed?" he asked.

"His grandfather had tried," she said, her heart still pounding in her chest. "He lived, but failed."

She saw Aris nod, although he still had his back to her. "Tonight," he said, his head turning to face her just slightly, a corner of his hazel eyes visible. "My office. We will discuss this more then."

We will discuss this more then . . . when you are fully clothed and covered.

He didn't need to say it. She could already guess why he was beating a hasty exit to the door. If it wasn't so confusing and mortifying, she would have probably found it funny that, when faced with all the things he said he wanted, the general of the Pillar Legion turned tail and ran from it.

Val was tiptoeing out of her bedroom to go to Aris's office that night, only to run headlong into Lucia, who was posted outside her door, gold eyes gleaming dangerously.

"For the love of the Mother!" Val gasped, clutching her chest in shock. "Lucia—"

"Good evening, Captain." The willowy female was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her red hair gleaming in the light from the torches overhead.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to check on you," she replied tersely. "But I also wanted to see where you were sneaking off to again tonight."

Val's face flushed with color. "There is no sneaking ."

"Then why are you waiting for the dead of night to squirrel out of your room again, Captain?"

Val gave Lucia a flinty-eyed glare. "I am your superior, Lucia. Surely you shouldn't be talking to your captain that way."

But Lucia was pushing off from the stone wall, prowling towards her, those golden eyes of hers serious. They were always serious, but now they looked particularly lethal.

"Superior or not, you are acting suspicious, Val." She narrowed her eyes. "You're going to see the general, aren't you?"

Val felt her face flush. But she couldn't deny it, couldn't lie. Not to Lucia.

Her silence seemed to answer her lieutenant's question, but she did not smile. Her beautiful face remained stoic, almost stern.

"I swear, Lucia, it is purely for work," Val placated her, hands outstretched, practically pleading. "We are gathering intel on something. It's top secret now or I would tell you—"

"People are beginning to talk, Val," Lucia said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You have been spotted heading to his office at night. You know what people say about you, about him—"

"And I give it no credence, nor should you," Val hissed, her temper flaring up again. "You should know me better than that."

Lucia's face darkened. "I do know you better than that. Which is why I know that there is something in your heart for him. Something you are not admitting to yourself—"

And that's when Val lost her temper. Sparks flying, flames licking her wrists, twisting up her fingers, Val approached her second in command. Lucia took a half step back from her, the slender female hitting the stone wall again.

"There is nothing between Aris and me," Val bit out, embers crackling in her veins. "We are working on intel he has received from within Maniel. As your captain, I have every right to go where I please. Do not buy into such heinous lies about me, Lucia. I thought you were better than that."

Val hated pulling rank. Hated it with every fiber of her being. She and Lucia were more than captain and first lieutenant. Lucia was slightly older than her and treated her, often, like a big sister would their younger sister. They were friends. She had, however, always accepted Val and her strength, and often yielded without fuss.

This was one of those times.

However, Val did not miss the spark of hurt in those golden eyes as Lucia backed down. Shame welled inside of her at the sight. She did not know where her anger had come from other than the strong possibility that Lucia may have been right.

"I only bring this to you because I care for you," Lucia said. She looked up at her, her lip stiff, eyes blazing. "Captain or not, you are my family, Val."

The words hit Val directly in the heart and she felt herself wilt, that unruly, roaring flame in her core petering out.

"I know," Val said softly.

With a stiff nod, Lucia brushed past her, leaving Val standing in the hall, guilt threatening to drown her where she stood.

The walk to Aris's office felt long after that. Val's eyes darted back and forth down the empty, dark corridors, looking for any sign of inquisitive gazes. Lucia had said people had noticed her going to Aris's office, but all the doors were closed, the halls quiet and peaceful. The only movement was the flickering of the torchlight as she descended the winding staircase and crept down the hall to the familiar office she had been visiting for almost a week now.

When she pushed open the door, it was to find Aris sitting on his desk, flipping through an old, leather tome. He was in his usual state of casual dress, which he donned on nights like these. Devoid of his usual gold armor, the plain white tunic he wore hugged every inch of his body. It was opened at the collar, exposing his bronzed chest slightly in a way that made her throat dry.

He looked up as she entered. "Something delay you?"

"Lucia," she muttered. The memory of her second's face at her outburst made shame flood her insides again.

Aris tilted his head. "What did she want?"

"It's nothing." Val walked into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. She was not going to tell Aris the whole Legion apparently suspected they were having an affair. She already knew they attributed her promotion to captain to the fact she must have bedded the general and he had felt obligated. The whispers had been even louder lately, more blatant. They actively laughed at her now. But she wouldn't burden Aris with that.

Val sat down in her usual seat, trying to reel in her anxiety. She had always thought of Light's Tower as more of a home than the Augusta Manor had ever been. Here, she had three people who cared for her unconditionally, like siblings.

Her real siblings had bullied and beaten her to within an inch of her life . . . Sometimes did even worse than that. Lucia, Katia, and Atria would kill for her. Would die for her. The thought of her three officers made her heart swell with love and gratitude, and yet the rest of Light's Tower did not seem to regard her with nearly as much respect.

Pressing a hand to her mouth, Val hid her face from the general, attempting to steady herself. The heaviness in her heart at that moment was so overwhelming it was hard for her to keep it in.

Aris immediately noticed this. Lowering the book, he slid off the table and sat in the chair beside her.

"What's wrong, Valeria?"

Did he see the tears glimmering in her eyes? Perhaps he saw her rage at the fact that she cared so deeply what the Legion thought of her. She had never cared what people thought of her, never cared how her family had rejected her, or how her brothers had resented her. Yet, she cared what this group of misfits felt. And if she were a misfit from the misfits, what was left for her?

"It's nothing," Val said again, rubbing at her eyes, hoping Aris didn't notice the moisture behind them.

"Valeria." His voice was stern, and he reached out and seized her wrist, pulling it away from her eyes, revealing the redness she knew was in them. "Stop being ridiculous. What happened?"

She did not speak for a long moment. The tears in her eyes made the flickering candles around his office blur and twinkle. Aris held firm to her wrist, stopping her from rubbing at them again, stopping her from beating them from her eyes.

"Do you think I will ever deserve to be a captain?"

Aris stared at her. "Don't be silly. I have told you before—"

" You may think that," she said brusquely. "But they do not."

His hand did not release her. Instead, he began to do the same thing he had done in the bath: tracing light patterns on her hand, casually, carelessly.

"You are the strongest fire wielder in the whole Legion," he said softly. "Even today, that amount of power would have killed someone like Lycas. It may have even killed Lucia. But you . . ."

"What does power have to do with it?" Val breathed. "Look at you, General. You came from a common family, have limited magic, and you—"

"Are fighting with the rest of them," Aris cut in. "I do not pretend to be anything more than what I am."

He rose from his seat, releasing her hand. The skin felt cold without his touch, empty. "You are right. I cannot do much magic."

From his bookcase, he removed a small vase containing a long-dried flower. Gently, Aris placed it on the desk in front of her. Holding out a hand, a shimmer of green light glowed from his palm. As if watching time accelerate, the flower began to grow, its color darkening, petals strengthening, until suddenly, a bright red poppy sat in the pot, as healthy and vibrant as if it had just been plucked.

"You see, I would make a great gardener," Aris said lightly, causing Val to snort in spite of herself. "But besides that, it is nothing that could lead an army."

"You do pretty well without it," Val muttered, and Aris chuckled in that same self-assured way she was used to. Except, this time, there was a softness to his eyes.

"I do alright."

"Why do you put yourself down, General?" Val asked, shifting to look up at him.

He leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, face unreadable. "Why do you , Valeria?"

Val scowled. "This isn't about me."

"It most definitely is about you."

"No," she said, standing up too, arms crossed, mirroring his defensive stance. "Now this is about you. You are a great general, Aris. Why do you not believe that?"

"And you are a great captain, Valeria," he said softly. "Why do you not believe that?"

They stood like that for a long moment, arms crossed, staring each other down, so close that Val wondered if he could feel the heat that was beginning to emanate from her.

There is something in your heart for him. Something you are not admitting to yourself.

Lucia's words echoed in her head, bouncing between her ears as she looked up into Aris's green and gold-flecked irises. She could not deny that her body reacted to him almost instinctively. That pesky internal flame seemed to roar to life every time he was near her.

Aris's eyes were darkened, hooded by the dim lighting. They were running greedily over her face, her body. His usual seductive smile was nowhere to be seen. It was all heat and electricity, tension and conflict. This was the Aris that hid under the shallow flirtations. This was what had been lurking there all along, what had been threatening to be unleashed earlier in the bathing pool.

It looked like he had to rip his eyes away from her, choosing to look at anything else, as if that would stifle the storm brewing in him. Instead, he reached down and plucked the now revitalized poppy out of its pot. With the same burning intensity, he reached up towards her face, brushing against her cheek. His long fingers stroked her hair out of the way, tucking the stem behind her ear, before brushing the red strands back over it. He didn't release her, though. Those fingers kept touching her, stroking her, winding through glistening ruby strands, trailing down towards her neck, pulling her closer and closer . . .

"Are you going to run away again?" Val breathed.

Aris let out a low, tortured moan as his fingers wove into her hair, jerking her almost roughly against him.

"I really should."

His breath was hot on her mouth, his hands firm in her hair, pulling her head back in a vicious strain that almost made her whimper with longing.

She only had the ability to moan one word.

"Don't."

And then his mouth was crashing over hers and the flame inside Val exploded. His hands were no longer cool on her skin, but hot and persistent, just like his mouth, prying open her lips to brush his tongue against hers in an agonizing tangle of molten warmth. Val's hands gripped at his tunic, the thin fabric now a hindrance. She clawed at it, almost burning holes through it in order to touch some part of him—some tiny bit that wasn't hidden by any kind of armor.

Then his tunic was off, and suddenly Val was being spun around and thrust onto the desk. Aris broke their kiss momentarily, only for him to lunge impatiently for her own clothes, the look in his eyes feral and savage. Hungry.

This was Aris unmasked, unleashed. And she worried for a moment that he was going to eat her alive.

Shoving her legs open, he pushed himself between them, hands groping at the collar of her corseted top, revealing the tops of her breasts as he let out a terrifying snarl.

"Gods, you are delicious, Valeria," he growled, and then his mouth was on her breasts, and Val's head dropped back as she clutched at the large wooden desk for dear life.

It was almost too much. She needed him back on her mouth. Needed him in some way . . .

Seizing his head by the top of his short brown hair, she wrenched his lips back to hers and this kiss was fiercer, more passionate, more demanding than any she had ever received in her long, long life.

And then, suddenly, it was over.

As if someone had dumped a bowl of cold water on him, Aris retreated, eyes glazed. Val watched as those eyes went from unfocused, to confused, to something else as he looked up at her, his eyes wide. The look sent a cold chill down her spine . . . As if he were terrified of something.

"General—" she panted, but he shook his head violently, stumbling backwards.

"I shouldn't have done that," he panted, his voice strained.

Val sat there on the desk, legs still open, blouse still pulled down, staring at the panicked general. He paced the length of the office once, stooping to grab his tunic and hurriedly put it back on.

"General—" she tried again, but he cut her off with another shake of his head.

"You should go, Valeria," he said gruffly. And, without even a single glance back at her, he stormed from the room.

For one stupefying moment, Val just sat there, stunned. Her body was still humming, churning with flame and heat, the imprint of Aris's hands still causing parts of her to tingle. Numbly, she fixed her clothes and slid off the desk.

Feeling used and dirty, she left the room.