Duel of Fire (Steel and Fire Book 1) (3 page)

“What do you know about Prince Sivarrion?” she asked when there was a lull in her parents’ conversation.

“Worthless,” Rafe said immediately. “His father’s sway over the mountain is increasingly ceremonial.”

Dara blinked. “Ceremonial?”

“The Fire Warden is the true power here. Sivarrion is at least smart enough to know that. He entertains himself and lets Zage Lorrid do as he will.”

Dara had heard her parents’ complaints about the Fire Warden, Zage Lorrid, a thousand times. The king was another story, though.

“Isn’t King Sevren well liked?” Dara asked.

“Of course. He’s a nice man,” Rafe said. “A weak man, but nice. He has to rein Zage in before he allows our best asset to disintegrate into nothingness.”

Dara poked at the bits of goat floating in her porridge, avoiding the sight of the empty chair. She knew all too well why her parents hated the Fire Warden. Most of their dislike was personal after what had happened to Renna a decade ago, but they had professional differences with Zage as well. According to her father he was determined to spread the mountain Fire so thin as to be nearly useless. The king purportedly approved of this policy, but she had never thought of his power as ceremonial only.

“Why are you asking about the prince?” Lima asked, her sharp eyes on her daughter. “You’ve never mooned over his
dashing
good
looks
, unlike most of the girls in the Village.”

“Oh, I heard he likes to duel, that’s all.”

“He’s a lout,” Lima said. “
I
hear he spends most of his time drinking in the parlors in Lower King’s. He’s bound to enjoy other frivolous activities too.”

Dueling isn’t frivolous.
Dara curled her fingers around her wooden spoon as though it were the pommel of her sword. Her mother’s disdain for her sport got worse every day. She suspected her parents would object to her going up to the castle the following morning. If she could get away, that is.

“Well,” Rafe said, “I suspect the prince will need to watch his back, if Lorrid continues along his current path. Perhaps he should learn to defend himself.”

“You think the Fire Warden would do something to him?” Dara asked. She looked up in time to see her parents exchanging glances.

“We already know what the Fire Warden is capable of,” Lima said bitterly. She looked over at the empty chair then, and Dara couldn’t help following her gaze. Renna’s chair. Her mother kept the wood polished and dust free after all this time.

“Never you mind, my young spark,” Rafe said, resting his hand on his wife’s arm and leaning toward Dara. “You ought to be more concerned about what the Fire Warden is doing to the family business if you’re to run it one day.”

“You gave me until the Cup to prove I can make it in the duels,” Dara said.

“Just keep your eyes open,” Rafe said. “And be wary of taking too much of an interest in the royal family.”

Dara finished her meal in silence. Her parents had their own quarrel with the Fire Warden, but could he actually be plotting something against the king’s family? Or Prince Sivarrion in particular?

In any case, Dara was quite certain her mother would consider her upcoming duel a waste of time. So how was she going to get out of work tomorrow?

Her mother snapped her fingers sharply. “Did you hear me, Dara?”

“What?”

Lima stood and stacked their emptied bowls. “I said since you’re getting such a late start this morning I need you to stay home this afternoon and help me with the ledgers.”

“But—”

“No arguments. You have a duty to your family. Meet me in the shop after you wash up.”

Dara gritted her teeth and helped clean the bowls while her father returned to his workshop. She wouldn’t be able to try out that new idea on Kel at practice after all. She’d have to work extra quickly today if she had any chance of getting away tomorrow morning.

After finishing up the dishes, Dara joined her mother in the lantern shop, located next to the kitchen on the ground floor of their dwelling. It was an elegant room, with hardwood floors polished to a shine and discreetly placed mirrors on the walls. Ruminor Lanterns hung from intricately carved arches around the open space. There were only eight pieces on display, which served as samples of Rafe’s work. Most clients purchased custom lanterns rather than buying from the showroom. As far as Dara was concerned, the shop didn’t really need to stay open all the time. But her mother didn’t see it that way.

On one side of the room was a large hardwood desk, where Lima sat with ledgers and drawings spread before her. Lima herself couldn’t Work the Fire, like Dara, but she had a knack for drawing. She would sketch the designs based on their customers’ requests, and Rafe would bring them to life.

“I need you to double-check all of these orders for me,” Lima said, pushing a stack of papers toward her daughter. “We can’t have a mix-up like last year when the Morrven and Samanar orders got switched. We almost lost two of our best customers over that.”

“I’ll be careful,” Dara said. She pulled up a chair and sat beside her mother, preparing for a long morning bent over the papers. Her wooden seat was hard and unforgiving, and her body felt crunched and useless as she set to the tedious task of crosschecking the orders. At least the shop was well lit with the steady burn of the Fire Lanterns.

It was midsummer, one of their busiest times as they prepared new lanterns for the winter season. Rafe needed time to complete the work and then deliver the lanterns throughout Vertigon and the Lands Below. Their customers always wanted the newest and most-fashionable lantern designs despite how long they lasted. But as Rafe was the only one in their family who could Work the Fire, the business couldn’t grow much bigger.

If only Renna hadn’t
—Dara stopped herself from completing the thought. Her parents’ grief over her sister’s death had only been amplified when they discovered Dara’s lack of Spark. She had spent so much of her life trying to make up for something beyond her control, but she was close to breaking free on her own merits. She had to move forward, even if her parents couldn’t.

The shop door opened, and a stocky man entered wearing a coat embroidered with ornate threads of Firegold. He swept off his matching hat and bowed.

“Afternoon, Lima.”

“Corren. You’re early.”

“I never keep Rafe waiting. This is my new assistant, Farr.”

He waved his hat at the taller, younger man who accompanied him. He had muddy-brown hair and long, bony arms. Dara was reminded forcibly of the scraggly trees that grew on the tougher slopes of the mountain.

“A pleasure.” Lima rose and swept forward to offer her hand. The two men took it in turn, and Dara noticed that Farr had burn marks on his fingers. “Rafe didn’t mention the purpose of your visit.”

“Guild business,” Corren said, shrugging his broad shoulders. Corren was a prominent Fireworker, like Dara’s father. He specialized in spinning fine threads of Firegold to adorn shoes and other leather and fabric goods. He wasn’t a direct competitor, and he had been helping Dara’s parents with the Fire Guild for years.

“Anything I should know about?” Lima asked.

“A couple of the Smiths had their supply cut off again yesterday. We need to talk about how to respond. I don’t want to interrupt your work, though. I’m sure he’ll fill you in.”

“It’s all right,” Lima said. “Rafe is in the workshop. Dara, would you walk these gentlemen down there? Come right back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dara leapt up, eager to escape her desk. She worked her wrists to loosen the tension in her pen hand.

“You’re getting tall, Dara,” Corren said as they walked through the back of the shop and down the long corridor that went from wood to stone as they descended into the mountain. “How’s the dueling?”

“Not bad. I’ve got the Eventide tourney coming up in a few weeks, but I’m mostly getting ready for the Vertigon Cup.”

“I remember when you first picked up a sword. It was almost as long as you.” Corren chuckled. “And now you’re all grown up. Any marriage prospects on the horizon?”

“I’m too busy for that at the moment with training and helping out with the business,” Dara said.

“Ah yes. The business,” Corren said. “You’ll make someone a good match, Dara.” He gave Farr the assistant a significant look. “I can find my way from here. Farr, give me a few minutes in private with Rafe before I introduce you. You can chat with Dara here.” Corren grinned widely and nudged her arm. They had reached the end of the stone tunnel, where half a dozen steps led to the door of her father’s workshop.

Dara kept a polite smile plastered on her face as Corren disappeared into the workshop, a wave of heat spilling out into the tunnel. This wasn’t the first time he’d brought one of his many assistants to meet her. Corren had long been vocal about his desire to more closely align his business with the Ruminors’. Once he had even suggested that if Dara couldn’t Work the Fire herself maybe she could produce a Firesparked baby or two. Her parents had laughed, but they hadn’t dissuaded Corren from bringing around his most eligible assistants.

“So,” Farr said after a minute, shifting his feet on the smooth stone of the passageway. He opened and closed his bony hands, knuckles cracking. Dara sighed. The last apprentice had been much more charismatic.

“You’re a Firegold spinner?” she prompted.

“Trying to be,” Farr said.

“Right.”

He looked at her mutely, a hulking shape in the corridor. There wasn’t quite enough space for her to slip past him and return to her mother. She wondered how long Corren had meant by “give me a few minutes.” He probably expected they’d need at least five to agree to marry and make Firesparked babies.

Despite her desire to poke Farr in the toe with a sword so he’d move out of her way, she couldn’t offend Corren.

“Any idea what they’re talking about in there?” she asked politely.

“Master Corren is going to ask Master Ruminor if I can learn some latticework from him,” Farr said, his words coming out in a rush. “I keep breaking the threads, and he wants me to try out something heavier.”

“Hmm.” Dara doubted her father would agree to that. Like Dara, he hated anything that broke his focus. And he hadn’t taken an apprentice since Renna died. He would much rather keep the business in the family.

“So . . . you don’t Work the Fire?” Farr asked.

“I’m sure Corren mentioned that,” Dara said. Corren had undoubtedly filled Farr in on exactly how valuable the Ruminor name would be to an up-and-coming Fireworker. Even though she was over her disappointment at not having the Spark, she didn’t like being reminded of it every time she turned around. “I help my mother with the orders, and the rest of the time I duel.”

“Really? I’ve never been to a dueling show before,” Farr said.

“Competition.”

“Huh?”

“You mean dueling competition. It’s not a show.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Farr went back to shuffling his feet and cracking his knuckles. Dara held back another sigh. This fellow wasn’t promising. She wondered if he liked paperwork. Maybe Lima should be the one taking on a part-time apprentice.

Actually, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Dara looked up at Farr as he took a deep breath and blurted out: “I think you’re pretty!”

“Uh, thank you,” Dara said. “I need to talk to my mother about something. Will you excuse me?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she squeezed past him in the tunnel.

“Will I see you at the next Guild meeting?” Farr sounded a little panicked, and words tumbled out of him again. “The discussions have been quite interesting lately. Lots of developments that could alter the future of our business.”

“I’m sure it’s fascinating,” Dara said. “I don’t go to the meetings unless I have to. Good luck with the spinning.” Dara started up the corridor then took pity on the poor assistant. She turned around. “Look, Corren can be a bit forceful, but you don’t have to try to woo me.”

There was enough light to reveal the blush in Farr’s cheeks.

“Sorry I messed up. He said I should . . . Never mind. I do think you’re pretty, though.”

“Thank you. Look, if you’re really interested in the Fire Guild, I could ask my mother to talk to you about it. She’s been keeping the Guild minutes for a decade.”

“I’d like that,” Farr said.

“Great.” Dara grinned. “In fact, I’ll see if she’s free tomorrow morning.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Farr said, grinning back. He had a nice, unassuming smile, and it softened his bony features. “I hope I’ll see you again.”

Dara jogged back up the tunnel to the shop. She should be able to get away for her duel with the prince if her mother was occupied with Farr. For her part, she was tired of suitors and guilds and paperwork. She was tired of trying to replace her sister when she didn’t have the same ability. She had to find some way to ensure that she wouldn’t be totally dependent on the Fireworking business for the rest of her life. She needed a patron—and a replacement of her own—soon. In the meantime, her mother and Farr would get along grandly. And she had a royal duel to win.

3.

The Prince

DARA leapt out of bed before the sun rose on the day she had arranged to meet Berg. She had almost been too excited to sleep last night. The familiar buzz she got whenever a competition approached hummed through her stomach as she peered out her window. Mist hung thick over the slopes of the mountain. A few lights burned over on Square Peak, but the castle at the top of King’s Peak was still dark.

A low rumble came from deep within the cave as Dara dressed in her usual practice gear of soft gray trousers, training boots, and a darker gray blouse. The cut was more masculine than her mother liked her to wear outside of the dueling hall, but it moved easily and hid the sweat. Dara twisted back her long golden hair and put on a deep-blue cloak. It was too hot for the cloak inside, but the farther she got from her father’s workshop, the more she would need it. It may be summer, but it was always cold on the mountain.