Page 21 of A Tribute of Fire

“I will kill you,” I told him.

“You wouldn’t be the first to try. I owe gambling debts in every port in the Acheron Sea.” He flashed a charming smile and we lay there on the stone floor for a few moments more.

Until I remembered myself and my training. I stopped struggling and did the maneuver Demaratus had taught me. I bucked my hipsup while yanking my elbows down. It caused him to lurch forward, releasing my wrists, and I grabbed his waist, pulling my head up against his stomach.

“What?” he said, but I was already moving. I locked my left arm around his right elbow, yanking it down, and used his surprise to roll us to the left. The second he was on his back, I pulled myself free and moved away from him.

My breath turned metallic as I put my hands up defensively and waited to see what he would do next.

He gave me another amused grin and stood up. He bowed slightly and then left the courtyard. Leaving me stunned and not sure what had just happened.

I couldn’t believe that I’d let him beat me and get me to the ground. I hadn’t been that humiliated in a long time—not since I’d first begun my training and had been a complete novice. It was the second time today that I had been caught off-guard and bested by a strange man.

Something I would not allow to happen again.

I located my dagger and picked up the tray. I had wanted to satiate my curiosity, to kiss a man before I was consigned to die, and this was the goddess having a laugh at my expense. She had sent me a man to kiss, only he was Ilionian.

It was frightening how easily Jason had disarmed and incapacitated me. I had completely forgotten myself because I’d been so seduced by his kiss.

No wonder Demaratus had counseled me so many times to have self-control. To not let my emotions or feelings dictate my actions. Because I had done just that and wound up kissing my enemy.

I carried the tray and the dagger back to my bedroom. I kept checking behind me, like I expected to be followed.

But there was no one there.

I closed my door and locked it for good measure. Just in case. I set everything down and went over to my basin, pouring in cold water.I used a salt scrub on my face, determined to wash away all traces of Jason.

It wasn’t working. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his arms around me, crushing me to him, his mouth feverishly working mine, and my stomach tightened and swirled with that molten heat.

“Bah.” I made a sound of disgust. I should go tell Demaratus exactly what I’d just done and then he could yell at me for a few hours and that might make me feel a bit better.

If nothing else it would at least distract me.

Instead I located the bands for my scabbard and tied the dagger to my thigh. That gave me some measure of relief.

But it did nothing to ease the wanting I felt, the heat prickling along the back of my neck from the idea of seeing Jason again. I had to get that under control somehow.

I briefly considered hiding in my room but knew that someone would come looking for me.

The dining hall was packed full of people eating and drinking, laughing.

With our enemies.

Although there wasn’t much I could say on that matter, considering what I had just been doing with the enemy.

While Locrian festivities were more formal affairs, sitting at tables while being served our meal, the Ilionians had a more relaxed way of celebrating. The food was set out and the guests were free to partake of any of the dishes they wished. There probably had been a line earlier, but no one stood by the food tables now.

I hurried over and my eyes watered, my mouth salivating, at what lay in front of me. A roasted boar with an apple in its mouth. Lamb shanks crusted with onion, garlic, mint, and fennel. Hare stew, featuring carrots, turnips, leeks, and cabbage. Venison cooked with dill, cucumber, and garlic. Whole chickens roasted in butter, parsley, and thyme. Cyprus snails basted in wine, vinegar, and olive oil.

And that was just one table. There were so many others laden with all sorts of delights. There were vegetables—lettuce, radishes, asparagus, celery, artichokes—all prepared in a variety of ways. Some were mashed, some raw, some sautéed in sauces, others cooked with seasoning. There was also a massive spread of fruit—grapes, olives, apples, figs, pears, plums. Like the vegetables, they were offered in various forms—alone, in their own juices, drizzled with honey, cooked, dried.

I counted twelve different types of bread, with everything from unleavened flatbread to the coarse brown bread made from wheat to the soft, pillowy white bread made from the finest ground flour.

The desserts! My heart fluttered at the sight. There were cheesecakes drizzled in honey or grape molasses, honey cakes, dried figs, raisins and pomegranates, sweet rye buns, thin pastry embedded with walnuts, almonds and honey, fried dough laced with syrup, puddings, pastries cooked from flour and sweet flavorings.

Of course there were salt bowls everywhere. And in another nation, it might have seemed extravagant or excessive to offer so much, but it was going to quickly become the only good we had left to export.

There was a loud note blown from a horn and I turned to see what was happening. A life mage was on the dais. He wore a dark green tunic and had wrapped a thin cloak around himself so that only one arm could move.

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