Page 48 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

“Let’s not worry about that right now.” Zane’s eyes roved across her face as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His gaze fell to her lips, then struggled up to meet her eyes. It was absurdly thrilling, and a rush of heat blazed through Kalie, heat that warmed her face and demanded more.

“For now,” he said, his voice husky, “let’s just let ourselves live.”

“Yes,” Kalie echoed, as her heart fluttered. “Let’s do that.”

They hovered there, legs pressed together, heads almost touching.

She breathed in the smell of his toothpaste and ocean spray cologne.

His eyes hovered on hers, dark and intense, but he waited for her to make the first move.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She glanced at Zane’s lips, his powerful muscles, the rumpled shirt that hid his well-defined abs.

There were a million reasons she shouldn’t be doing this, but she didn’t care.

She wanted to live, to feel, to forget the rest of the world?—

Boots thumped outside. Fire crackled in the hearth, and she jolted back to herself—back into a palace where the walls had eyes and ears, back to reality, where her sister would seize any grasping reason to discredit her.

As her cheeks flushed, she cleared her throat and pulled away.

“Sorry.” Her face was on fire. “I forgot myself.”

Zane was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “It’s late.”

It was an out, one she was immensely grateful for, and she nodded. She wasn’t in her right mind. It was only a momentary impulse, a mistake. He was her guard, her friend, and she had responsibilities—duties she couldn’t cast aside, no matter how hot he was or how badly she wanted to give in.

She was the Duchissa of Dali. She could not risk crossing the line.

But when she got back to her room, Zane followed her into her dreams.

The sea’s briny scent washed over Zane as he followed his Praetorian escort towards Redmont’s highest precipice, a dark cliff face looming over the ocean.

Fires burned over onyx altars, and as their acrid plumes of smoke twisted up his nose, phantom explosions thundered in his ears.

Ghastly images from that article were seared into his eyelids—a bombed building, a child’s charred shoe.

One man had leveled an entire Dalian city.

Fifty-four other terrorists had escaped last week, so it would only get worse, and what if something happened to Kalie?

He had always intended to stick by her. He had no choice if he wanted his money.

But after their conversation, things had changed. It was about the money, yes, but it was also about her.

She clearly didn’t hate him, and she wasn’t the selfish royal he’d initially taken her to be. She was genuine and kind, and she really did care for her people. For all her flaws, she’d be a far better ruler than Lexington, who’d given the Feds free rein over Dali.

Despite the cycles he’d spent despising her family, she could be a friend.

Maybe something more, but he couldn’t dwell too deeply on what might’ve been. He’d left it up to her, and she’d pulled away. It had been the wrong time, anyway, with nightmares still heavy on her mind.

“He’s here, Your Supreme Highness.” The Praetor’s voice jolted him from his thoughts, and the guards flanking him bowed.

Though his skin itched at the thought of bowing to anyone, Zane forced himself to do the same.

Kalie’s dark-haired brother sat on the edge of the cliff, dangling his legs over the edge. Zane raised his eyebrows. The haughty Crown Prince hadn’t struck him as the type to sully his clothes in the dirt, even if Kalie was right and he enjoyed dueling.

The Prince didn’t turn. “Dismissed. ”

The Praetors’ boots clomped away. Kalie’s brother didn’t rise, so Zane trudged to a strip of grass and dirt at the edge of the cliff.

Hundreds of feet below, murky waves crashed against the island’s rocky shores.

Foamy spray spurted into the air, stinging the tar-black cliffs.

Zane slanted a look at the Prince. It was off-putting to stand to the side while he sat in the dirt.

“I presume you’re here because of the bombing yesterday,” the Prince said. His blank expression didn’t falter. Not a flicker of emotion, not a shred of grief for the dead Dalians.

Zane scowled. “That’s part of it.”

“Have they caught the bomber yet?”

“They haven’t caught any of them.”

“Except for the traitor who’s being treated like a prince.”

“They hardly caught Grant. Lexington pardoned him.”

“By claiming my uncle framed him.” The Prince pursed his lips. “I know.”

Zane scuffed his boot in a drift of mud. Kalie had vehemently denied it as they’d watched Iliana’s press conference, but he remembered the old guard’s words in the lounge, and they made his gut churn: “The people loved him. More than Roth, even. They called him ‘the Count of the Commons’.”

Landon Grant’s rise in power was definitely motive for a power-hungry suit like Roth to frame him.

“Do you think it’s true?”

The Prince arched a dark eyebrow. “What exactly do you want?”

Point taken. The question of Landon Grant’s innocence didn’t matter. His traitorous son had nearly killed Kalie, and between the Dalian terrorists who’d broken out last week and the legionnaires Iliana had summoned to Dali to stop them—so she claimed—he had bigger things to worry about.

“Your sister mentioned you fence.” Zane breathed in the sea’s sulfuric air. “I wanted to talk to you about training for Fal?—”

“I’m not dueling to the death for her. Even if I wanted to, I’m not a Dalian citizen.”

“Not you.” Zane wrung his hands, trying to vent the nervous energy thrumming under his skin. “Me. ”

“You heard my father. He said no.”

Zane grimaced. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Laughter? Agreement? Argument? He hadn’t expected nothing at all.

“I know, but?—”

“You thought I’d see it differently? The answer is no, Wells. Kalista is not going to invoke Fallé di Azura. My father will come up with something.”

Zane shoved his freezing hands into his pockets. “What if he doesn’t? What if the Feds find us?”

As the Prince pulled out his beeping comm and unlocked it, Zane tensed.

He almost couldn’t bear to look. Another bombing?

More deaths? People Kalie knew? A fleet?

In her guise as a guard, Mira had grown close to Iliana, and she’d heard whispers of Carik’s increasing desperation to kill Kalie.

That was why he had to train, so she wasn’t in danger. Surely, the Prince saw that.

“They won’t.” The Prince rose to his feet and pocketed the comm, apparently unconcerned. “If that’s all, you can see yourself back. My wife needs me.”

A smile curved at the Prince’s lips, and Zane did a double take.

They’d yet to announce the name of the new Hannover princess.

Even Kalie didn’t know, and he’d assumed that meant her brother was disappointed his wife hadn’t given him an heir.

But the mention of his wife was the first time he’d seen the Prince smile. His family clearly mattered to him.

“I hear congratulations are in order. For your daughter.”

The Prince’s smile disappeared, and his jaw tightened. He folded his arms, and his expression turned guarded

“She could be a Dalian Duchissa someday.” Zane edged closer. “Obviously, Iliana will never do it, but if Kalie only has sons…”

The words turned to ash in his mouth. Now that he’d said it, he couldn’t help but see it: Kalie marrying someone else, having kids with someone else. It bothered him, and the fact that it bothered him bothered him.

“How long have you known Kalista?”

Zane tried to tally the weeks in his head, but it was too cold for calculations. “Four weeks? Five? ”

“And you’re willing to give up everything for her. That doesn’t sound irrational to you?” The Prince dusted dirt off his pants. “Kalista is not some wanton woman?—”

“Of course she’s not,” Zane huffed. A gust of wind tore through his clothes, and the fire altars crackled behind him. “I’m only her guard. I know that.”

“Do you? I think, Guardsman, that your feelings for my sister go beyond guarding.”

Zane clenched his jaw. The Prince’s icy eyes made shivers creep up his spine. If he got the wrong idea, it would be all too easy for Kalie’s brother to make him disappear.

So he rolled his eyes. “Your family cost me my father and my barony. Your sister got me charged with treason. You think, after all that—” Zane snorted, shaking his head— “you think I’d have any shred of interest in her?”

“You’re willing to risk a duel to the death for her.”

“For my barony.”

“That barony won’t do you any good if you get your head chopped off first.”

Zane smirked. “I don’t plan on losing.”

The Prince brushed past him. “I’m the Crown Prince of Etov, not a tutor for reckless commoners. Now, if you’ll excuse me?—”

“Wait.” Zane marched after him. “If Iliana corners us, what are we going to do? Think about it. An army of legionnaires finds us, we’re trapped?—”

“It won’t happen.”

“You can’t guarantee that. If we’re trapped, it may be the only way out. If I pledge to do it, it gives Kalie time to run. Dammit, would you please listen?”

The Prince stopped, and Zane sighed. “I’m not going to waltz into the capital and challenge Iliana. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would want to do that. It would only be a last resort.”

The Prince didn’t move. Zane wiped his clammy palms on his pants and dared to take a step closer. Damp grass squelched under his boots.

“It’s my job to keep Kalie alive. I won loads of fencing tournaments on Oppalli, but I’m rusty. I can find someone else to train with, but she says you’re the best. If practicing with me saves her, isn’t it worth it?”