Page 24 of The Incendiary

GAVIN SMYTH

As it turns out, I can talk to Shera in my head. If only I could find a way to talk to you that way too.

—UNSENT CORRESPONDENCE FROM QUEEN ARYELLA I TO THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA

23rd of Aesta, 402 Years Ago

I’d always been skilled at hiding in the shadows when necessary. Isaac and Eden had enforced strict rules while raising me, and I’d followed… maybe a third of them.

It had been one month since she showed up in my shop. Once or twice a week, she found a way to escape into the city to train. I knew she had more important things than a lowly blacksmith to think about, but I hadn’t gone a single waking minute without thinking of her. I would be glad to take my final breath with her on my mind. I’d rather die drowning in thoughts of her than not know her at all.

Today, I’d taken the extreme risk of knocking an unassuming guard unconscious and stealing his uniform. He would wake up hours from now in only his undergarments, tied up with rope in some eastern Brinnean back alley. He’d probably have to call for help, but he’d be fine.

She said being near her was dangerous. I was not easily deterred.

Was I obsessed with her? Yes.

Did I care? No.

Was I outside her door after scouring the castle for two hours in search of her bedroom? Yes, I absolutely was.

The single blue jay carved above the door gave it away. I knocked impatiently. The moment she saw me, she gasped and pulled me inside, then slammed the door and shoved me against it, glaring up at me.

I smiled at the way her green, gold-speckled eyes lit up when she saw me. No matter how disgruntled she pretended to be, she was happy to see me.

She wore a soft, short-sleeved ivory dress that cinched at the waist and had a modest neckline barely hinting at her perfect breasts beneath. Her silver-blond hair was unbound and billowed out in angelic waves behind her. Biting back a groan, I clenched my hands at my sides to keep from pulling her against me.

One of those castle guards could drive a sword through the door into my gut, and I’d still be one lucky bastard to have her be the last thing I saw.

Gods, what a way to die.

“Are you insane?” she hissed.

“Yes.” My pulse pounded. I was very focused on her fingers flexing into my chest. Her touch, combined with the milky skin of her neck glowing in the morning light streaming in through the curtains, would drive any man insane. The sweet scent wafting off her hair had me wishing I could bury my face and wrap my fist in it and never come up for air.

I was so fucked, yet I’d never been happier about anything in my entire life.

“You saw me four days ago, Gavin.” She pursed her lips and blushed.

I glanced down at her mouth and tried to keep my own from watering. “So?”

“That’s not very long.”

I scoffed. “I beg to differ.” Four days felt like four hundred years.

“It’s dangerous,” she reminded me.

My smile widened. “As I’ve said, I’m not sure I care much about that.”

“You should care.” She released my shirt and stepped back. “If something happened to you⁠—”

“Ah.” I pushed off the door, following her. She sucked in a sharp breath and made a good effort at hiding it, but I’d already become adept at not missing a single thing where she was concerned. “Are you worried about me, Ella?”

“Someone should be.” She folded her arms across her chest.

I chuckled and surveyed her bedroom. I tried not to look at her bed, simply because imagining her there, sleeping without me next to her, made my heart hurt. A grandiose, golden chandelier with delicate roses carved around the main stem hung from the muraled ceiling. This time of day, enough daylight streamed in through the windows that the candles weren’t lit, but that chandelier was still the most lavish thing I’d ever seen.

“Do you like roses?” I asked, studying how intricately the petals were carved into the gold. I hadn’t shaped gold into anything intricately detailed in my short career as a blacksmith, but I’d watched Isaac do it twice, and it was rigorous work. I didn’t want to think about how long it had taken to craft that chandelier.