Page 47 of Of Flame and Fury

“That’s not what Bekn seems to think.”

“Do you have a dimmer switch or something?” Coup snapped, and pulled his hand from hers. “It’s nothing. Really. Just an overprotective brother who thinks I’ve abandoned all self-preservation instincts.”

“Have you?”

Coup’s eyes sharpened, focusing on Kel in a way that made her shift her weight. “I owe Bekn. And I can repay that debt through CAPR. So, for now, debts overrule self-preservation.”

Kel wanted to ask what he owed Bekn, but from the hard edges in his voice, she knew he wouldn’t tell her.

She didn’t entirely understand why, but she wanted to draw back the version of Coup she’d seen just moments ago. The version that had kept her company atop a burning hill, had silently sat with her in Sav’s aviary, had squeezed her hand when the reporter had questioned her.

“I’m terrified of losing Sav,” she quickly stuttered, like a poisonto expel. “That’s my debt. I owe Sav better than having to race and bleed to pay for our home.”

She instantly regretted the brittle confession. It would only give Coup more ammunition to tease her, to call her a hypocrite. Shehatedracing, but only because she knew how lethal CAPR could be. It was cruel to compete to justify keeping Sav in a gilded cage, like every animal in this park; to cling to the one creature in her life who couldn’t die.

After a long silence, Coup said, “Careful, Varra. I’d almost think we have something in common.”

Her insides lifted as if she’d been tossed from a carnival ride. Silently, they turned from the aviary—just as a new, camera-less figure approached them with delicate steps.

The girl, about their age, gazed at Coup. “You’re Warren Coupers, right? Could I get your autograph?” Her lips curved up. “I’m Alma.”

The girl—Alma—held out a pen and a photo of Coup, garbed in his riding leathers, atop the Star Chasers’ flaming beast.

Coup stepped away from Kel as if bitten.

The sudden loss of warmth sent a chill down her spine.

“Sure,” he replied, flaunting his thousand-watt smile.

Coup’s gaze flickered to Kel, but she was already moving away, offering them some small privacy. Alma twirled a black curl around a finger. Her long lashes were flawless and her expression sincere.

“You were so brave in that race. I’d never seen anything like it,” Alma said to Coup, her voice lilting.

Coup laughed.

Kel swallowed a metallic taste and shuffled further down the cobblestone path. Every sweet, silky word the pair traded soured her tongue. She focused on the painted fence to her right: a mural of Salta’s magical attractions.

Kel shoved her sweaty hands in her trouser pockets and mentally rebuilt a familiar, jagged wall between her and Coup. Just for a moment, she’d let herself wonder what it might feel like to take a sledgehammer to that wall. Now, she left no room for any more sharp, painful truths to slip through.

She snuck a glance back. Coup’s and Alma’s heads were ducked conspiratorially.

It wasn’t like Kelhadn’tnoticed Coup’s looks, striking enough to turn heads wherever he went. His muscled build from years of riding, an easy grin that earned its arrogance, sun-soaked eyes… But she couldn’t imagine ever seeing past the smug, self-assured second skin he wore long enough to be attracted to him.Ever.

Kel huffed and forced her attention to the artwork before her: Ebrait’s sea monsters and ash-gray temples, Ascira’s glamour and sprites, Dresva’s forestry and serpents, Cendor’s tech and phoenixes. She shifted further from Coup, brushing a hand along the next mural of the Four Alchemists.

Before arriving on Salta, the Alchemists had been failed inventors, laughed from their homes on the continent. Salta’s magic had provided the perfect ingredients for their experiments. Kel had only ever cared for her father’s stories of Cendor’s Alchemist, Landon Ryker, soaring on the mighty Deja, leaving fiery trails of destruction.

Before the other night, beside Coup in Sav’s new aviary, she hadn’t let herself think of those stories in a long, long time.

“I can’t believe my date left me to fend off an admirer by myself,” a voice teased from behind her.

Kel turned to see Coup, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, a lazy smirk across his face. His shoulder pressed against hers. She couldn’t stop her spine from stiffening.

Kel swallowed down a stronger, bitter mouthful. “Yourdatewas miserable from watching that poor attempt at flirting.”

Coup’s smirk vanished. “Don’t pretend you know a thing about flirting, Varra. Just stick to glaring and we’ll get through this.”

Before she could reply, Coup turned back to the cobblestone path. “Come on. We’ll have to bat our eyes at each other for the cameras at least another hundred times before my brother’s satisfied.”

---