Prophecy Bound: The Lightbringer Chronicles

6. Too close to the flame

“We’re not alone.” I reply incredulously. “ Lyva is with us, and the Maze can be viewed from every parapet. "You can hardly call that alone –”.

No sooner have the words escaped my lips then I am grabbed from behind. My whole body is lifted and held against the hedge under an archway. My defenses are on alert, and the tingle of flames quickly rises. Faster than I can process. What the hell?

“What about now, would you call this alone?” He taunts. His face is less than an inch away from mine. So close to me, I can see the gold flecks in his green eyes. They mock me, and his body continues to press me into the hedge. The leaves at my back begin to wilt from the heat coming off me. My ice blue eyes fill with fury as I try to form words. Nothing comes to me. All I can do is stare at him, speechless.

I look up, expecting the guards to rush over, but I realise – he’s right. In our current position, none of the guards can see us and Lyva is nowhere in sight.

We are alone.

And he’s still so close, the heat comes off me in waves, he’s in danger. My mind and body are at war with each other; they fight with a mix of thought and emotion. I’m outraged.

He needs to back off.

Now.

I put my right hand on his chest and push. He doesn’t move.

I push harder. “Move damn you.”

His eyes hold mine in challenge, a battle of wills. He still doesn’t budge, just grins sinfully at me. “Make me.”

Not now.

I can’t refuse his challenge.

Saying a silent apology to Mother for the second time today, I let the tiniest of flames ignite only this time I make it flashy. It travels deliciously from the back of my hand down to the tips of my fingers.

Let’s see how smug he is after this. He needs to either back off or prepare to be burnt. The smell of singed wool tickles my nose, and I smile at him, calculated mischief quirking my lips.

He winks at me but still refuses to move and so do I.

The wool cloak gives way and the flames blaze through his overshirt. I keep complete control, making sure the flames don’t spread any further than where my hand is.

He raises a dark brow.

Don’t do that.

The cloth of his shirt gives way and starts to burn through his undershirt. It won’t be long before there are no clothes left, and the flames will burn his skin.

Neither of us is willing to back down from the challenge.

The final layer of cloth disintegrates under my hand, I can feel the cool skin of his chest, and I don’t pull back. I grin, now we will see who the winner is. He tenses but doesn’t pull away; the smell of burning chest hair hangs in the air.

Back off, i***t.

His skin is blistering, and he still refuses to pull away. He has to be insane. He’s got to be. Why else would he do this?

His eyes still hold mine, but they have turned black as he holds himself still against me. He is in pain but doesn’t protest. I can’t help feeling a little thrill that he hasn’t let go. He’s not intimidated by my power. He is stronger than I gave him credit for. That’s enticing.

“Lycur, what are you doing with Saoirse?” Lyva’s small inquisitive voice breaks his spell, and he quickly turns to her. I blink twice to compose myself.

“Nothing pup.” He says quickly, the flames retreat at the same instant that he pulls away. Both of us look at the blatant handprint blistered and raw on his skin. Oh boy.

“I have been waiting for you both.” She says getting closer, her nose raised as she sniffs the air and smoky scent of scorched skin.

Lycur holds his clothes away from the wound. Glancing up at me from beneath his thick brows, one remains arched inquisitively. It looks bad, really bad. It is only after seeing the damage that I have done that I have the sense to blush, a little ashamed of letting him get to me yet again. He seems to have a devastating effect on my peace of mind.

“What happened to your shirt?” Lyva asks. She moves between us, peering up at Lycur and the hand print holes in his shirt, completely unaware of the tension between us. She doesn’t notice the way that he is looking at me, or the fact that my cheeks are bright red with embarrassment.

Thank the gods.

“Just got a little too close to the flame, pup. It doesn’t pay to play with fire.” He whispers the last under his breath so that only I can hear him. It doesn’t help matters; my blush deepens.

“Follow me.” Lyva grabs his hand and drags him away, leaving me to gather my composure. She propels him forward, turning left, then right, then left again and finally onto the right path to the center of the maze.

The center of the maze opens into a circular garden with rows of herbs and flowers immaculately kept. Each is positioned near other plants that will help them to flourish. Lyva jumps on the spot, clapping her hands together, delighted at her success. I guess she does this whenever she is happy, because it produces a nostalgic grin from Lycur.

“I did it! Saoirse, I did it.” She runs to me for praise and takes my hands, swinging me around in a little dance.

“Yes, you did, Lyva, very well done.” I laugh and help her pirouette on the spot. All thoughts of my episode with Lycur will be dealt with later.

Lycur inspects the garden in silence, rubbing the lavender between his hands and inhaling sharply. He is listening to Lyva, closely, trying not to interfere with our conversation. I can’t question her with him here. It will be pointless, so I won’t even try. This is going to be a wasted effort on my part. Lyva runs from one side of the garden to the next exclaiming at the smells, picking flowers.

His presence disturbs my thoughts. I’m awkward as I try to watch him without being seen, but it’s impossible when I know he’s watching me too. There is a strange magnetic pull between us. He keeps pulling his shirt away from the burn but doesn’t complain.

I go directly to the darker corner of the garden and break off two pieces of Aloe Vera for the burns. He is a guest and I need to tend his wound, I tell myself as I approach warily and he looks up.

“Umm...” I start, he says nothing when I hold up the plant stalks; he’s waiting for me to explain myself. “You should… ahh….rub some of this on your burn, it will take some of the heat away and help speed the healing for you.”

“Will you do it for me? I don’t know how.” He asks and moves closer, holding the shirts aside to allow me access.

Oh no.

“Oh…OK.” This is a dangerous, I don’t know what to do and bite my lip undecided. He is a guest, I tell myself again. I strip the stalk open to reveal the meaty green flesh and carefully place it flesh side down over his blistered skin. His chest rises and falls with each breath, as I gently rub the sap over my hand print.

Remain calm and don’t look at him.

I keep my attention on the wound, making sure there is a thin film left, then quickly step back and put the other stalk in his hand. “Rub some more on later, it will help.”

“Lycur?!”