Page 26 of The Incendiary

“You’re going to have to act like a real guard,” she said, finally giving in. “Be inconspicuous and keep far enough behind so no one knows you’re following me.”

I bowed my head, smirking. “Yes, my queen.”

Her laugh sounded sweet and carefree. “I’m not the queen. That’s my mother.”

She would be queen one day. And she was the only queen who mattered to me. “A goddess, then?”

“You can’t say things like that,” she warned me shyly. A rosy pink bloomed across her cheeks.

“Why not?” I reached out and brushed my thumb over the dimple beside her lips, where more color gathered. “You look perfect when you blush.”

It was a partial lie. She looked perfect all the time.

A light mewling sound and something brushing against my leg stole my attention. I looked down to find a sleek, gray cat with a pink nose purring so loud it was vibrating.

“Well, who’s this?” I asked with a chuckle. I had always liked cats.

Aryella’s face lit up. “That’s Shera.” When I stretched out a hand, Shera shoved her eager head into my palm and purred impossibly louder. “She’s mine.” The pride in her voice over something being hers tugged at my chest.

Suddenly, I was jealous of a cat.

“I found her when she was a kitten trying to steal scraps from the kitchen,” Ary continued. “She was quite thin, but I kept her in my room and nursed her back to health.” Sadness dimmed her angelic features. “I’m not sure what happened to her mother.”

“Do you have a thing for strays, Ella?” I gently teased.

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile as she went on. “I named her Shera—‘silver’ in the gods’ language—because she felt like my treasure. Even though she was discarded. And“—she looked up at the chandelier above us—”everything around here is gold. I’ve always liked silver better.” Aryella sighed down at her cat. “And she’s gray, of course.”

Shera meowed up at us and brushed against my leg again.

“She likes you,” she laughed as I squatted to get even closer. “For her, that’s saying something. She hasn’t met a single castle guard that she likes.”

Her whiskers were long and straight; she was lithe and muscular with a shiny coat. Her contentment and good health were a testament to how well Aryella had cared for her since finding her.

“Speaking of guards.” She backed away and narrowed her eyes on my outfit. “Where did you get that uniform?”

I smirked. “Are you sure you want the answer to that question?” Her eyes widened in terror. “No one’s dead,” I rushed out, voice shaking with laughter. “Everyone’s fine. I promise.”

“Like I said—trouble,” she repeated the earlier sentiment, eyes twinkling with mischief and warmth. She grabbed my hand and opened a creaky door. After sticking her head outside to check for others, she pulled me into the hallway behind her.

“Where are you taking me?” I cringed when my voice echoed too loudly in the empty hallway.

“Inconspicuous!” she hissed in a whisper, then spun around and reached up to slap her hand over my mouth.

It was an effort to not kiss her palm. I drew in a careful breath, which didn’t help my restraint. My mind went hazy; she smelled so sweet.

I promised my silence with a firm nod. She let go and forged ahead of me so I could follow at a respectful distance as a guard would.

I realized I could handle wearing this uniform every day. Perhaps it was time for a career change. What would Queen Christabel and her magician brother require of the man tasked with guarding their secret jewel? How grave would the consequences be if the guard tried to set her free from her barred windows?

Did I care about those consequences?

“Someone’s coming. You go first.” She yanked open another door and pushed me into a dimly lit stairwell. After exchanging words with someone, she slid inside the stairwell and locked it behind her. Instinctively, I reached for her hips to draw her into me and keep her close for as long as possible, but before I could, she gripped the fabric of her cotton, cap-sleeved summer dress and hurried up the spiral staircase.

“We’re going up,” she called back to me. I watched the laced ivory hem disappear around the corner and immediately missed the sight of her. Glowing, flawless, and terrifyingly fleeting.

I followed, taking two steps for every one of hers to ensure she couldn’t outrun me. The stairwell spat us out onto a rooftop surrounded by three window-less walls. I felt a possessive sense of satisfaction that she spent time where no one else could see or find her.

“Come sit with me.” She sat down and waved me over. I shrugged off the guard’s thick armor beside the stairwell door, then joined her. “I know it’s not exactly trouble, but I love how quiet it is up here.”