Page 33 of The Devil May Care

“I heard a silence fall,” Solonar says, voice smooth and dry. “And I thought—surely my old friend has spoken.”

“Briefly.”

“Sharp, too. The court flinched.”

“As they were meant to. There is no honor in forced sacrifice.”

He smiles faintly and turns toward me, leaning against the curved wall as though it belongs to him.

“They were already sharpening blades,” he says. “You may have slowed the first cut.”

“I intend to stop the strike entirely.”

Solonar tilts his head. “Protective. I didn’t know you’d taken on a ward.”

I bristle at the word. “I was unaware as well.”Did she not insinuate the same?

“No,” he muses, “she wouldn’t make a very good one. Doesn’t listen. Speaks when she shouldn’t. Seems the type to trip over ceremonial steps.”

I exhale slowly. “You’ve observed her.”

“Of course. Spoken to her too. She may have just arrived, but we all have our eyes, don’t we.” He crosses his arms, tone still light. “She’s quite the distraction. Doesn’t burn, but she stirs. That’s the word they’re using now. A spark that shifts the air. No one’s sure what it means.”

“It means nothing,” I lie.

Solonar’s gaze narrows, not cruel, not accusing. Just curious. Almost indulgent.

“Has she been examined fully?” he asks.

I frown. “She stood before the Flamebound.” Our scholars, one expert for each realm. They’d have known.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He steps closer. Only a half-step. But enough.

“Have you seen her?” he asks, voice quieter now. “All of her? Really looked?”

I say nothing.

Solonar lifts a brow. “Naked flame reveals all, doesn’t it?”

I roll my shoulders back. “You’re implying something.”

“I’m asking,” he says. “Perhaps the Brand doesn’t show as it does in us. Perhaps it lies somewhere… less visible.” His eyes follow the line of my throat to the neckline of my tunic where my own Emberbrand sits dark and red below my glamor.

The image flashes before I can stop it: Kay’s skin, pale where the sun hasn’t touched it, streaked with soot and desert grit, robe slipping from one shoulder in the haze of lamplight. The curve of her back. Her breath catching—

Enough.

I can’t say if she’s beautiful. Humans aren’t terribly different from Daemari, not in size or shape, especially not when we hold our glamour. Big brown eyes with the stark whites, no flame visible in the depths. Her hair is long, like so many of the Daemari, and it bends and curves as it falls down the arch of her spine. She doesn’t’ appear to wear it in intricate twists and braids. Maybe she reserves that for formal occasions. Kay isn’t someone I’d look away from, but she’s human. Fragile. Delicate. Without flame or want or magic.

I close my eyes, drag in a slow breath, and crush the thoughts of her. Solonar sees the tension. Of course he does. His mouth twitches.

“Easy,” he says. “It’s a fair question.”

“It’s a provocation.”

“More like a possibility.” He steps back then, granting me the space he so skillfully stole. “You’ve never been good at not caring,” he adds more softly. “Even when you tried.”