Page 1 of Firebird (The Fire That Binds #1)

PROLOGUE

Dacia, 53 BCE

MALINA

“Malina,” hissed my sister. “Vino aici.”

I ignored her summons again, continuing to peer out through the tent flap.

The crowd thickened close to the stage where Hanzi tipped his head back and slid a sword down his throat. An eruption of awe swept up with applause.

“Malina.”

I finally snapped the tent flap shut. Lela removed her headscarf, black waves of hair tumbling down her shoulders. Plopping myself down on the wooden stool, I watched her with undisguised envy. Our bunica, our grandmother, gave her the colorful basma on her betrothal day last month. It still made my heart clench with envy.

“What is that look, bebelu? ?” she asked.

“I wish you’d stop calling me baby.”

Lela tilted her head and smiled in her maternal way, then picked up the stick of kohl.

“Close your eyes.”

I did, sighing as Lela lined my left lid first.

“Are you going to tell me what the sighs are for? You always love to dance for the crowd.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “And the crowd adores you.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I miss Mama and Papa. I miss home.” And I didn’t want anything to change. Everything would change when she married Jardani.

Usually, our parents would have come with us. Most of our clan was with our caravan. But winter approached. There was much to do and prepare before the snows began to fall. Our parents and a few selected elders of each familie in the clan remained behind. Our caravan had made a small circle through the valley beneath the southern range of the Carpathian Mountains. This last bit of coin would serve us well through the winter months.

As she’d done many times before, Lela smeared the kohl to thicken the shading along the outer edges of my eyes. “This is the last village. We’ll break camp in the morning and start the journey home.” She laughed in her throat. “But you don’t fool me. You’ll miss this.”

Lela finished dabbing the kohl and brushed out my hair the way she used to before she fell in love and spent all her time with Jardani.

My gaze fell to my lap where I traced the intricate design in golden thread on my red fust?. The gold and silver medallions of jewelry sewn into the vibrant fabric winked by the lantern light. Bunica had made the richly adorned woolen skirt in a way that flared in perfect little arcs when I spun onstage.

I stood and smoothed my white blouse, the gold star-shaped embroidery sweeping in gentle curves down to where it met my fust?, creating a continuous design that flattered my figure.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re an adventurer, Mina. And too curious for your own good.”

I shrugged. “The world is an interesting place.”

“And dangerous. Especially for a wild seventeen-year-old girl.” Her dark eyes trailed down my body, a frown pinching her brow. “And one who appears much older.”

It was true I’d inherited more curves from our mother than Lela. We were polar opposites, the two of us. Lela was all sweetness and gentle ways like our father. I had the boldness and short temper of our mother.

“I’m nearly eighteen,” I argued.

“And unmarried and unprotected.”

I hated that reminder. She’d be married soon, and Mother was already hinting it was my turn next. All I wanted was for everything to stay the same, but that seemed impossible.

The tent flap whipped open with a thwack. Jardani filled up the entrance, stormy scowl darkening his features, broad shoulders tense with readiness.

Lela straightened. “What is it?”

“Romans.”

My throat went dry, fear tripping my pulse faster. “Are any of them—” I swallowed hard, unable to finish the question. But Jardani knew.

“Yes,” he growled. “One is a centurion.”

The tent flap popped open again. Kizzy and Kostanya swept from behind Jardani’s imposing figure.

“Romans are here,” whispered Kizzy .

“To watch the show,” finished Kostanya.

Our twin sisters, one year younger than me.

“Where did they come from?” Lela’s pretty eyes were wide and glittering. “There’s been no word of an uprising.”

No. This region had been faithful subjects to Caesar. Honor Emperor Igniculus with tribute, and the Romans left us alone. We weren’t fools.

Jardani shook his head. “There’s a Roman province across the Danube thirty leagues from here. Could be a scouting party from there.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Only four,” Jardani answered. “But that centurion.” He shook his head, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. “If he wanted, he could kill us all.”

I pushed past Jardani and the twins, peering out through the sliver of tent opening. I spotted them strolling through the crowd toward the front. The three soldiers laughed, seemingly entertained by Hanzi’s juggling act, but the centurion who followed slowly in their wake did not. His red cape denoted his higher station. He stood taller than Jardani. The baldric crossing his chest held his gladius, the hilt glinting with fine craftsmanship.

His movements were fluid, lithe, a hunter’s steady progress toward the awaiting prey. His face was steeped in shadow till they passed a torch. I sucked in a staccato breath.

His face was too hard, too sharp, too arresting. His maker had cut him with an unforgiving blade, molding him into a beast of unquestionable dominance and terrible beauty. He stood off to the side of the front row, his dark gaze sweeping the audience. The gusting torch flame licked along his features, caressing into the shadows like a lover. Then it happened. Flickering flame caught the golden deep of his irises, touching the supernatural doors to his soul. If he had one.

I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, knowing I looked upon the beast of legend. The one who filled our people with fiery nightmares, who stormed across the world and took whatever and whoever he wanted.

“Dragon,” I whispered.

Kizzy squeaked behind me.

“What should we do?” whimpered Kostanya.

Jardani gestured toward the north. “Slip off to last night’s encampment. Wait for me there.”

“No.” I followed my instincts, measuring the situation in a blink. “It is known and expected that the Bihari sisters close the show. Every show. That crowd out there is expecting us. If we run and hide, it will only anger them and alert the Romans that something is amiss.”

“But, Malina.” Kizzy’s chin trembled. “He’s a—a—”

“Yes. I know. And how far do you think we’d get if we ran and hid in the woods like thieves in the night? If we close the show without the final act, those villagers will want their coin back and cause a riot.”

I leveled on Jardani, who stared back, contemplating quietly. Finally, he cursed under his breath, then hung his head, hands on hips.

Lela stepped forward, her expression tight. “What do you feel ?” Besides Bunica, she was the only one who ever outright spoke of my gift. And they would never mention it outside family. To be an empath like me held its own dangers.

I turned my face back toward the tent opening, closing my eyes. Finding the quiet within, I reached out into the boisterous crowd, touching the life-light of every person. My gift allowed me to read the unique essence emanating from within a person.

When I found the centurion, knowing it was him by the stark potency of his life force, my empathic sense shuddered. I probed deeper, a feverish sweat sweeping over my skin, a vibrant cord of power pulsing through our connection. No anger, animosity, or violence trembled along the invisible thread I tethered to him. It was difficult to gauge from this distance, but odds were in our favor .

I opened my eyes and spun to them, shaking my head. “No aggression.”

Jardani gave a stiff nod, then moved closer to Lela. “Keep the dance short and keep your distance.” He cupped Lela’s face, his brutish hands gentle, tilting her face up to look at him. “Be careful, iubirea mea .”

I turned away from the intimate gesture. Jardani was a good man, and he adored my sister. Eventually, I’d forgive him for taking her away from me. Right now, my focus was on the crowd beyond the tent, roaring with applause. Peeking out, I caught Hanzi finishing with his flourishing juggle of flaming torches.

“It’s time,” I called over my shoulder.

The twins nodded and snatched metal zills from a basket on the shelf and fitted them onto their thumbs and middle fingers. I didn’t, as I needed my hands free for my part of the act.

“Right,” Lela snapped in her maternal tone. “Go, girls.”

On cue, the first lilting strains of Yoska’s lute carried from the stage. Then Rukeli’s soft rhythm, his hands sweeping on the tympanum, silenced the crowd. The hypnotic beat of the drum and the magnetic rise and fall of the lute riveted everyone’s attention to the stage. The four of us slipped into the shadow behind the stage.

Hanzi was there, sweat-drenched from his performance, but wearing his ever-present bright smile for us. A brighter one for me.

The twins leaped onto the stage before me and Lela, clacking their finger cymbals in rhythm with Yoska and Rukeli’s melody.

“Baft?!” called Hanzi with a wink, placing a firm hand on my shoulder and giving me a squeeze.

“I don’t need luck,” I answered with a smile before sweeping past him and up the steps.

Chin raised, body poised with straight back, one shoulder dipping lower, I glided onto the stage in bare feet, despite the chill in the air. Lela spun in a rhythmic circle down the center of the stage, her bejeweled blue skirt curving in arcs like a glittering ocean wave. Her breathless beauty drew all eyes, while Kizzy and Kostanya mirrored her movements. A mesmerizing scene.

I smiled and kept to the back, swaying gently and clapping my hands in tune to the beat, trying to remain invisible while Lela danced her part, captivating her audience with each swing of her hair and swirl of her skirts.

Then… I felt him. His eyes were on me. My skin prickled with awareness. It was too much to withstand, to ignore. Cutting my gaze to the left, I faltered, my hands holding on a single clap.

Watching him from afar was entirely different than seeing him this close. He leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed in casual repose, expression blank. But his fire-gold eyes. They told me another story. One of heat and mystery and unmistakable interest. Caught in his gaze, like a hare in the wolf’s claws, I almost missed the shift in the music that was my cue.

Rukeli beat louder on the tympanum with one beat of his hand, then silence. Breaking from the centurion with a snap of my head, I took my first step forward.

The defiant spirit that had buoyed me up so many times before repelled any fear of this dragon in our midst. The tether I still held to him didn’t scream of fear at all. Rather, his essence was alluring. Exciting. That inner fire burned through my limbs, guiding my dance like never before.

With slow, precise steps I advanced to the stage dead center, swayed my hips, rose my arms heavenward. Rukeli pounded out another single drumbeat in unison to the stomp of my feet. My sisters clacked their finger cymbals slowly as I slid one foot forward and rolled my body.

Spinning to face the back of the stage and my sisters, I ignored Lela’s shake of the head warning me not to do it. There was one daring move I reserved for certain audiences. Not one with a Roman dragon standing in watchful attendance.

Best not to dazzle too brightly in the presence of one of them. They liked treasure. But the witch inside me defied the interloper in our midst. I ignored my sister’s silent protests as the music rose seductively.

I repeated the roll of my body from the ground up in slow repetition. With each wave, I arched my back farther and farther, bending my spine, my arms reaching and waving suggestively to the crowd appearing in my vision upside down.

My long hair brushed the stage as I bent, my blouse pulled tight over my upthrust breasts, one sleeve baring a shoulder. And still I contorted my body into an impossible arch.

When my head nearly brushed the floor, I straightened with a whip of my body to the beat of the drum. Rather than simply spin away, I gathered momentum and outstretched my arms, tumbling in a back flip where I stood. The audience gasped, then applause erupted.

The edge of my underskirt and fust? caught on my hip, baring the length of one bronze leg. The centurion’s gaze dropped, his phantom touch catapulting my pulse faster. I gripped the skirts in one hand and began to spin with swift, stomping footwork before I leaped boldly to the teetering end of the stage where he stood. The music was now a maddening frenzy, the audience clapping to the beat of the drum.

Angling my chin down over my bare shoulder, I locked my gaze onto the centurion, the black waves of my hair swaying with the melody. His dragon eyes simmered an otherworldly gold, reflecting the internal fire within. When his mouth ticked up on one side in a smoldering half smile, I faced forward and launched into a series of front tumbles, flipping so fast my skirts whirled in tandem.

Yoska and Rukeli played wild and fast, spinning me and my sisters into a whirl of skirts and flourishing moves. The music sped higher and faster into a sudden, dramatic stop where we each froze into a goddess-like pose, legs and arms intertwined, bodies curved, necks arched, and eyes shining bright.

Leaping from their seats, the villagers cheered. Small coins plinked and rolled onto the stage. As was tradition, our finale dance was showered with pennyweight coins. Hanzi scurried onstage to collect them while we bowed and smiled, waving to the crowd.

I tried to keep from looking but my gaze cut to the centurion anyway. He was smiling. For a moment, I was caught by his welcome and attractive expression. He reached inside a pocket on his belt, then held up a coin to me. It looked bigger than the ones being tossed onto the stage. I held out my cupped hands and he tossed it. I caught it with a laugh, then Lela pushed me roughly toward the steps.

“Malina,” she hissed, as we stumbled behind the stage. “What do you think you were doing?”

“Giving the customers what they came for.”

“You know what I’m talking about. That was too… too—”

“It was nothing.”

“It was reckless . As you always are.”

“Stop worrying, Lela. Go and pack. Jardani will want to leave tonight.”

Trembling from the performance, I stormed off before Lela could scold me further. The crowd still buzzed. Yoska and Rukeli played on. Jardani ushered them over for ale and watered-down wine. A few extra coins before the villagers wandered home.

Lela was right. I’d never displayed myself quite so provocatively. Why would I do it for him? I hated Romans. Hated their superiority. Their conquering and burning of the whole world, simply because they could. Because no one could defeat dragons.

Perhaps that was why. I wanted to flaunt my fearlessness in front of him. Show him I was not afraid, no matter what beast stared back at me, but my inner witch whispered, no, that’s not the reason.

Cutting through two wagons and behind the horse pen—the foul-tempered gelding chuffed and whickered at me—I rounded another wagon and peeked from behind. Jardani’s makeshift tavern, nothing more than a weathered canvas top and two casks propped on stools, lured the audience in well enough. Yoska and Rukeli played a lively tune, while Hanzi served drinks and collected more coin.

Slipping past and clutching the centurion’s coin in my palm, I grabbed a torch and ran along the path into the woods toward our encampment. But rather than go directly to our tent, I cut into the little meadow where we let the horses graze during the day, so I could observe my coin without my sisters fussing or asking questions.

Stepping into the open under the bright moonlight, I raised my palm and the torch so I could get a better look.

“Bendis above,” I whispered.

It was gold. Or at least it looked like gold. I’d never actually held the precious metal in my hands. One side depicted a temple, the edges soft and well-worn. The other was a woman, a goddess sitting on a throne, an upside-down crescent over her head, a cornucopia held in both hands.

“She is Lady Fortuna.”

I froze. The voice was a deep, melodious rumble, like thunder over the mountain. Like danger in the distance, drawing ever closer.

Stars save me. It could only be one man.

Spinning, I stared a mere few feet away at marble-like features cut into slashes of shadow by the moonlight. The centurion. And the dragon.

I glanced to the right, preparing to flee, wondering if I could actually outrun him. Panic gripped me. I certainly wasn’t fearless now.

“No, wait.” He held up both palms in a disarming fashion, then took a step backward. “I won’t harm you.”

But it was impossible for a man of his height and breadth and birth to appear harmless. He was a noble-born Roman with ancient magic—and a monster—firing through his blood.

My pulse raced, and I realized we were alone. If he wanted to hurt me, he could quite easily do so before anyone would come and help me. If they could help me .

Still holding his palms out in a placating manner, he nodded to my hand where I still held the coin. “That aureus is special.”

It was gold. My arm holding the torch shook, a flame gusting as I exhaled a trembling breath.

I was terrified, but I lifted my chin with all the confidence I could muster, realizing he must’ve given me the coin for nefarious reasons.

“Why would you give me a piece of gold?” I snapped, though my voice quivered.

Everything about him screamed for me to run. Except my empathic sense, which was still annoyingly quiet as a calm sea. My witch told me to keep still. So I did.

“You’re a gifted dancer,” he stated with calm and poise, lowering his arms to clasp his hands behind his back, still trying to appear harmless. It did ease my panic a little, though my body remained ready for flight.

“I’m the best of my sisters,” I finally replied, using bravado to cover my quaking fear.

He smiled. My gaze automatically dropped to his mouth. That’s where I realized what gave him some semblance of softness. Where his jaw, chin, nose, and brow were all sharp angles, his wide mouth seemed soft.

“You are,” he agreed. “I witnessed the proof of it just now.”

“Why would you give me a gold coin for a dance?” I snapped again, my fear morphing into ire. “You will not get anything else for it.”

Still poised, even at my assumption, possibly an insult, that he’d been trying to buy something else from me that I wasn’t prepared to part with, he replied steadily, “I do not want anything else.”

A cloud billowed above us across the moon, the shadows hiding his face. Even so, his dragon eyes glowed in the dark. It reminded me of the wolves back home in the Carpathian Mountains, when the winter grew harsh and they came looking for easy prey around our village. Strangely, this Roman didn’t incite fear in me with his gleaming dragon eyes .

I stepped forward and raised my torch so that I could see his face more clearly. He remained unnaturally still. I knew he was trying to assuage my fear. We both knew that if he wanted to harm me, he could. Only noble-born Romans with the blood of the dragon coursing through their veins could be centurions.

His eyes. Bright as a burning star, they watched me. “This coin is special,” he told me. “It’s worth more than the gold it was forged from.”

“Why is that?”

“Fortuna is the goddess who guides our path through life. She bestows good fortune to those who give her tribute, who pray and listen to her.”

“I do not believe in your gods,” I told him boldly.

“That does not matter.” He took a small step forward.

I braced to run, but he stopped at that one step, seeming to want a better look at me.

“We all have our own gods,” he added, clasping his hands in front of him now, very large hands to equal the rest of his towering physique. He was far taller than any man I’d ever seen. I’d been told that before about dragons, that they were larger than human men. Still, it was astounding to behold with my own eyes. “But Fortuna loves all people of all provinces and all regions.”

His words were confusing to me. We had our own gods who we prayed and sacrificed to. Why would a goddess I didn’t worship care about me?

“Not only is Fortuna a special goddess to me,” he went on, “but this aureus was given to me by my mother, the gold minted by my own father when they married. A wedding gift. I’ve carried this aureus on me for many years.”

“Which again makes me wonder why you would give something so precious away to a stranger.”

The fear was sinking its claws in again, but then he said, “Fortuna speaks to me sometimes.” He paused. “Do you believe that? ”

Of course I believed the gods and powers unknown spoke to us. I was one of a long line of mystical women who wielded gifts not of this world. My inner spirit spoke to me often. I merely nodded.

He graced me with another smile. “She spoke to me tonight. And I knew you’d need the coin for good fortune one day.”

I peered down at the image of Fortuna in my palm, the torchlight glittering on the gold piece. Then I gazed at the centurion.

“We could all use the favor of the gods. I will not shun such a gift if Fortuna has selected me for her favor.”

“Indeed.” He dipped his chin. “You are wise as you are beautiful, little firebird.”

I frowned at his familiarity and the moniker. I didn’t know what a firebird was. But before I could ask, he had taken a step back and then did something rather shocking. He bowed, a gesture saved for nobility alone.

“Farewell,” he crooned softly. “May Fortuna guide your path.”

Then he spun away, his red cloak rippling, stalked into the shadows, and disappeared.

Clutching the aureus to my chest, I fled back to our family tent, knowing I’d keep my small treasure a secret. After all, Fortuna had chosen me for her good grace. I would cherish the centurion’s coin, no matter that it was delivered by the enemy, a dragon.