Cold Fire

He said it not knowing what the head of the poet Bran Cof had told me, words my sire’s binding prevented me from repeating to him. Blessed Tanit! I was not drowning. I was being dragged along by the unerring tidal force that was him, or us, or destiny, or—whispered the shade of Heartless Cat—nothing more than proximity and lust.

For it was not that his eyes were beautiful, although they were. It was not that his features were symmetrically pleasing, although they surely were. It was not that his body, which I by now had an arm around, felt so very promising held close against mine, although I could scarcely think of anything except how I yearned to touch him all over.

After all, I had only to wait, hold on for seven more weeks, and then I could get what I wanted from him without being chained by it. If physical love was the only thing I wanted.

Four Moons House owned Vai through his village’s clientage, but even so, his magic gave him access to immense status within the House. Yet he had not abandoned and would not abandon his family and his entire village, although he could easily have left them behind for the wealth and privilege his power as a mage granted him. Instead, he made their burdens his own. He intended to risk his own security and no doubt his life to free them. That was the man he wanted to be.

I could take what I wanted as I walked free. Or I could share the burdens and risks with him.

I felt my lips part, as if to speak, but all that came out was a mute exhalation.

He drew back slightly, studying me with the serious look that seemed to see not just me but all the things that made me what I was. That seemed to offer not just him but all the things that made him what he was.

“We can walk our paths each alone. Or we can walk this unknown road together. If anyone can find a way through, it will be you. If you will walk with me, my sweet Catherine, then I will never let go of you. And I promise you that together we will get there.”

I thought he was going to kiss me, but that was not what he was about. He brushed a hand along my hair and drew his thumb down the side of my face until I could not remember how to breathe.

Eyes half closed in a way that made me wonder how he might look if I woke up beside him made all drowsy and contented, he whispered, “And I do here ask you if you will come home with me, tonight, to the bed I built for us.”

Blessed Tanit, how I wanted him!

Wanting is like the tide of a dragon’s dream, sweeping away the safely familiar landscape and all the cautions with which you have so carefully guarded yourself. Those who are caught in the tide can never come back. But maybe they would not regret being changed.

So I said, “Yes.”

26

“Vai. Ja, maku! Me wholehearted apologies, but I need a word with yee.”

How long Kofi had been standing about ten paces from us, I could not guess. The dance and the drums, the polyrhythm of conversation and laughter and song, the press of bodies and the smell of pepperpot mingling with the kick of dust slammed back up against my awareness.

Vai dragged his gaze away from mine. “I’ll be right back.” He released me, rose, and walked over to Kofi.

I dredged for a semblance of thought. The intricate voices of the drums throbbed up from the earth. My feet twitched as if drums were a partner who led you into the dance, and of course they were. Rhythm was another thread wound through bone and blood to weave together existence. For one night I could set aside my worries about Bee and Rory. For this night.

I watched as Kofi spoke urgently into his ear. I needed to listen, yet it seemed wrong to eavesdrop on a man who had just confided his secret hopes and dreams. At first he was smiling as if expecting to hear how his conspirator’s machinations had brought him triumph. His brow furrowed. Then his eyes widened, and he frowned and shook his head.

I heard him say, annoyed and thus a little loud, “This is not a good time.”

With an unreadable glance toward me, Kofi said, “’Tis the message I’s told to give yee.”

As Kofi hurried off, Vai strode back, pulled me up, and brushed off the burlap. I trotted beside him to the food cart whence he had borrowed it.

“You’d hate it if the last of this pudding dribbled down that gorgeous jacket. What were you thinking to wear it to an areito?”

The coy glance he gave me from under half-lowered lashes was enough to make my breathing stutter and my heart flame. “Only of you. Whatever is necessary, I will do.”

Suspicion flowered into a burst of vibrant certainty. “You blinded Aunty Djeneba and Brenna with your good manners and your appealing way of confiding in them. Uncle Joe was right. You haven’t been crying in your pillow at all. You’ve been biding your time. Plotting my downfall.”