A Promise of Fire(21)
The first scorching blast sinks into my belly, and I snap awake with a startled cry. He only attacks at night, when I’m asleep and can’t see. I don’t know how he gets past the locks on my door, but it’s him, always the same one. He wouldn’t dare come after me when I’m ready and alert. I’m too good with a knife.
His magic rips through me. Fiery needles pierce my skin, burning deep into the heart of me. I arch off the bed, throbbing, and scream until my throat turns raw, blind with pain. Red with fury.
He lets up, and I just barely suppress a whimper. He’s not strong enough to keep going. If his magic were mine, I could go for hours, slowly cooking him until the last breath left his body. He’s not me. For every five minutes of torture, he needs one to recover. That’s when fists fly.
I block, curling into a ball until either I can strike back without leaving myself too open, or Thanos comes to pull him off me. He hovers over me, fingers digging into my shoulders and pushing me down. His hands on my blistered skin are excruciating, but I thrash to loosen his hold, shrieking for all I’m worth, and then hammer a fist into his throat.
My knuckles connect with flesh, and everything suddenly feels too real. My eyes fly open, and Carver is doubled over me, grabbing his neck. His eyes are bulging, and the breath he finally manages to drag into his airway rattles in his throat.
Seeing him, I go limp with relief. A shudder tangles in my chest. I’m not there.
“What in the Underworld was that?” he rasps, rubbing the Cat-sized fist mark already shadowing his skin.
I glance at my shaking hands, expecting to see red bubbles and slashes, blood turned to lava in my veins. They look normal, but I know the truth; they’re stained.
“Nightmare,” I croak.
Carver sits back on his heels. He shoves a hand through his hair, frowning. “You were twisting and howling like a damned lunatic. Scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I clamp my mouth shut. If I open it, I might scream.
Drawn by the commotion, Kato and Flynn exchange a look. Flynn drags his bedroll closer until I’m pinned between Carver and him, and Kato sits down near my head, using one of my knives to carve a likeness of Athena into a chunk of fragrant cedarwood.
I should tell them all to go away. I really should. I unlock my jaw, and something else comes out. “Why Athena?”
“Wisdom and war,” Kato answers. “What every man needs.”
“Not home and family?” I ask.
He grins. “Not a young man. A hearth and a wife are for later, when the battles are won.”
“Haven’t you won? Sinta is yours.”
“Sinta is Egeria’s,” Kato says. “There are battles yet to come.”
His cryptic words send a chill down my spine. Is Tarva next? Fisa? “What makes you think she’ll rule any better than the royals before? Capricious, violent, cruel, bestowing favors only to take them away…”
“You’ll understand when you meet her.”
That’ll never happen. I’ll escape soon. I have to.
“That was more than just a nightmare. Who hurt you?” Flynn asks. He sounds angry, and his genuine concern leaves me feeling raw and exposed.
I press my lips together and stare up at the night sky. I have a better question. Why haven’t I had my daily dose of nightmares since Beta Sinta abducted me? That is, until tonight?
* * *
The next morning, Beta Sinta still hasn’t returned. No one seems particularly worried, and they don’t break camp. I grit my teeth and hint that I might want a bath. Even Poseidon is telling me I stink.
Carver grins. “So how does this work?”
“How do you think? We both turn invisible. The rest is pretty much self-explanatory.”
Chuckling at my crankiness, he wiggles his eyebrows at Kato and Flynn, who joke about wanting their turn at an invisible swim. I roll my eyes and make a rude hand gesture. Then we disappear before they can retaliate.
On the bank, I strip and grab my soap. “You ready?”
“Naked as the day I was born,” Carver answers, sounding far too proud.
I tug on the rope and lead him into the stream. The pool on the east bank is perfect, four feet deep with a sandy bottom and a light current.
“Too bad I can’t see you,” Carver says.
“What?” I feel my cheeks heat. “Why?”
“That would be more fun,” he answers matter-of-factly.
I can’t help laughing. “Splash.”
“What for?”
“So I know where you are.”
The water sloshes about three feet from me, and I hurl the soap at him. Carver lets out a satisfying grunt.
“Don’t flirt with me.”
“Why not?” He sounds completely innocent. The rascal.