Fire Kin by M.J. Scott Page A

“I couldn’t sleep. I was up on the roof of the Brother House and I saw the commotion. And before you ask, yes, I did what I could to help, but from the distance, as you say, that wasn’t much.”
    â€œYou still work with fire, then?”
    â€œAmongst other things. But, yes, I still have a little skill with fire. Were there many wounded?”
    I figured he had a right to know when he was going to be joining the City’s defenses. Last night’s encounter had to be factored into any strategy he and the Templars were formulating. So I reeled off the facts and figures about the victims of the fire for him.
    â€œIdiots,” he said softly as I finished.
    â€œYoung men often are,” I shot back, and then wished I had bitten my tongue as I heard the bitter undertone to my words. I didn’t want him to think that I still harbored any hurt over his leaving. That would only encourage him in whatever ridiculous fantasies he had been spinning for himself about there being a chance for anything to ever grow between us again.
    â€œSometimes they learn,” he said softly. “Sometimes they regret.” His eyes seemed very gray in the shadowed hallway, the color of deep water.
    Or deep trouble. I took a breath. He was beautiful. He’d always been beautiful. And he’d always been trouble. I doubted that that had changed. And I’d learned too.
    â€œSometimes it’s too late,” I said. “I have to go.”
    He drew back then, bowed crisply. “As you like. Keep running. It works. For a time. But, Bryony?”
    I turned back. I couldn’t help it. “Yes?”
    â€œEventually you have to stop and face what you’re running from.”
    â€œI’m not running from anything,” I snapped. Technically true. If I chose to misunderstand what we were discussing. Which I did. I turned again and this time he didn’t call me back. I ignored the little pang in my heart that found this troubling.
    ASH
    I watched Bryony walk away. I wanted to follow, but this clearly wasn’t the moment. I had thirty years of distance to overcome. That was going to take some time. But first there was work to be done. So I went in search of Rhian.
    I found her, somewhat unsurprisingly, in the stables, tending to her horse, an unassuming-looking gray gelding whom she doted on. With good reason. He would win no prizes for his beauty, but he moved like lightning when he wanted to. And I’d seen him kill a man with a well-timed kick on the battlefield.
    Rhian’s kind of horse.
    I clucked my tongue at him over the stable door, digging into my pockets for sugar cubes.
    Rhian looked up from her brushing. “Morning. You look tired.”
    â€œI’m fine.”
    She started to work on the horse again, brushing his neck with long, sure strokes. “Did you spend your night howling at the moon and mooning over that Fae lady?”
    She didn’t miss much. Damn it. “There was no howling. Or mooning.”
    Rhian snorted. So did the horse, which made Rhian laugh. “I saw you going after her last night. Haven’t seen you look at another woman like that. Is she the one you left behind?”
    â€œIt’s complicated.”
    She pointed the brush at me. “It always is. Best approach is to grovel. If you were thinking of mooning, that is. Groveling always works well.”
    I was sure Rhian had had many, many men groveling at her boots in her day. She should be an expert on the subject. I wasn’t sure there was enough abasement in the world to get me back into Bryony’s good graces, however. “Thanks for the advice. How did you get along with Brother Liam last night?”
    She grinned at my change of subject and set back to work, the muscles in her tanned arms rippling under her tattoos. “Too pretty to be a knight, that one.”
    â€œWell, he is a knight. Bound to his God. So try not to break his