Page 22 of A Tribute of Fire

An Ilionian servant approached with a plant in a terra-cotta flowerpot. He set the pot down on the table next to the life mage. The mage reached into his tunic and pulled out his amulet. The green gem sliver sparkled even in the torchlight.

The man closed his eyes and muttered some words to himself, his right hand waving over the plant. For several beats nothing happened, and then a large bulb started to grow at the top of the plant. It got bigger and bigger until it burst open, revealing a dark pink flower. The flower slowly opened until it became a full bloom.

The audience broke into respectful but bored applause as the life mage collapsed into a chair behind him, completely drained fromthat small bit of magic he’d just displayed. He would remain that way, oblivious to the world, for several more hours. Doing magic seemed to severely drain the user.

No one was excited because we had seen this trick performed every year before the selection. I still remembered the first time I’d witnessed it—it had shifted everything I had thought to be true. When my grandmother told me the ancient stories, how could I not believe? I had seen magic performed in front of me.

At last year’s selection, after the mage had been roused, I had proceeded to get him very, very drunk. He had been a timid and quiet man who became the opposite when he drank.

He had shared a great wealth of information with me.

Most importantly, he had told me what had happened to the Locrian eye, which used to be housed in our temple.

After the curse, our eye had been taken by Ilionian mages. They had cut up the green gem into tiny pieces and each man took one for himself, embedding it into an amulet. They wore the destruction of our nation around their necks. Their amulets were passed from father to son and allowed them to do small, meaningless pieces of magic—like forcing things to grow or wither away. He had spoken of the power he felt while wearing it—a tiny, constant hum that buzzed against his chest.

After he’d passed out, I’d stolen his amulet. It did nothing for me, though. I hadn’t felt the hum he’d spoken of and I didn’t know how to wield magic.

I had decided that there were two reasons it hadn’t worked. First, the piece of the gem wasn’t big enough. I would need the entire eye to restore Locris. The second, and most important, was that only men could wield the magic of the goddess.

Which meant I was going to have to kidnap an Ilionian life mage and bring him back with me after I stole their eye.

With the show over, I turned to get something to eat. I wanted to try everything and was having a difficult time deciding what to take first.

“Good evening, beautiful Lia.”

Jason was standing next to me, on my left. He’d disarmed me, held me down, humiliated me in the worst way possible, and now he was mocking my appearance? I was not going to make a scene in my parents’ palace. “Go away.”

“Is that any way to treat the man who gave you your first kiss?”

Would he be able to stop me before I went for my dagger?

He leaned his head in so that his mouth was next to my ear. “Look at how you flush. Very alluring.”

I had to swallow hard and stop my eyeballs from rolling back into my head due to the sensation caused by the faintest brush of his lips against the shell of my ear. I reached for a chicken leg and put it on my plate, determined to ignore him.

Jason wasn’t interested in being ignored. “I thought I would come over here and inform you that if you’d like to sneak off to a shadowed corner, I’m available.”

“I’m sure you are,” I said through gritted teeth.

My body still flamed in response to his offer, though.He is my enemy,I tried to remind myself.I want to run him through, not kiss him.

But my trembling hands hadn’t received the message.

“I would have to request that you leave all pointed objects behind, though,” he said. “I prefer to keep all of my body parts where they are currently situated.”

“No deal,” I shot back.

He laughed, but thankfully we were interrupted.

“May I have your attention?” My father’s voice boomed across the hall. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate the betrothal of my daughter Princess Kallisto to Lykaon, son of Pelias, of Ilion.”

No mention of the selection that would take place tomorrow.

My sister smiled sweetly and waved to the crowd, who cheered for her.

And then her betrothed turned to face the room and I dropped my plate to the floor, where it broke.

The man standing next to my sister was the same man who had hit me.

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