Ashes (The Firebird Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  I had to admit, I was a little surprised.

  “Kierakai!” she rejoiced, squeezing him tightly, “I missed you so much.”

  He grinned, a little startled, “You too, Ebbs.”

  More people were tumbling out of the door, I recognised Chara and Briseis, but then a man stepped through and crossed his hands over his forehead, then his heart. Somehow Kieran was mimicking his movements while the girl clung fiercely to him. The man’s gaze shifted to me with a cold ferocity and instant suspicion, I fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “Let him breathe.” Nik shuffled outside to see the source of the commotion.

  Ebony finally released Kieran. She was quite small, about an inch shorter than me and she had a pretty, rounded face and moss-green eyes. She was as cute as her house and bounced energetically up and down. When she saw me she smiled carefully but kept her distance.

  The girl bounded off to stand next to Chara, her face alight as she chattered loquaciously. Then I noticed someone else, a little girl around four years old. She was gazing quizzically at Kieran with shining black eyes. Kieran’s face lit up in wonder as he kneeled down before the little girl.

  “Libby, say hello to your uncle Kierakai,” Ebony said.

  “Libby,” Kieran smiled proudly. “You’ve grown so much.”

  She smiled sweetly, shyly hiding until Kieran offered his hand, which the little girl took and Kieran lifted her protectively into his arms.

  That meant that Kieran had another brother or sister he hadn’t told me about. Was he related to Ebony or her husband? I looked at Ebony with her shiny black hair and her moss-green eyes and knew for definite. He had a sister. I almost felt a little betrayed that he hadn’t told me.

  I shuffled awkwardly, suddenly remembering how underdressed and incongruous I was. Ebony seemed to notice this, instantly bounding over.

  “Of course, you need your things,” she remembered. “Follow me this way.”

  She led me into her little home; the others eventually following. The hallway was decorated with vibrantly hectic tapestries, hanging from the walls by curved metal hooks. A soft yellowish light emitted from strange crystal balls looming above. The stone floor was unexpectedly warm against my feet. There were weatherworn boots muddily laid atop a straw-woven mat and keys jangled from a hook on the back of the door. It was a complete contrast to the Palace I’d just been in.

  Ebony directed me into a homely living room. Mistreated sofas sat around a low wooden table, on which were plates of bread, cheese and meats. Seeing the food, my stomach grumbled hungrily and to my embarrassment Ebony heard. She gestured compassionately for me to sit, offering me a plate. I took some bread and cheese, gratefully thanking her as everyone sat down.

  “Your things are upstairs when you’re ready. I’m afraid you and Briseis will have to share a room,” she admitted nervously.

  “You mean I can stay? Here?” I asked in bewilderment. I thought we were just stopping here and then I would have to find a local inn or something. Not that I had any money or anything of worth.

  She frowned. “Of course you can. I don’t care what anyone thinks,” she suddenly decided in a loud determined voice. “You brought my family home, and if they say you’re okay then I believe them.”

  “Thank you,” I said genuinely, feeling relieved.

  Chapter Twelve

  The soft yellow light escaping through the thin curtains eventually awoke me the next morning, that and the wonderful scent of frying bacon. I was spread out across the bed comfortably. My arm, recklessly throw out in my forgotten dreams, dangled over the edge of the mattress. My cupped palm caught the sun’s welcoming rays, warming my fingertips. My eyes slowly fluttered open. For a while I thought I was at home, until I realised that Max wouldn’t come to lick my hand to wake me properly. It was a sad thought. I missed him so much; he was often the only constant happy figure in my life.

  Last night had flown by. I had a bath, ate dinner and spent most of the night talking with everyone about nothing and everything. It was nice, relaxed. For the first time in what seemed like weeks I felt truly okay.

  Sighing, I sleepily tumbled out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes my hands could find. The room was empty, I slowly realised; Briseis must already be up. Opening the door, I journeyed quietly downstairs. There was no one in the living room so I went into the kitchen. My stomach growled as the overwhelming smell of bacon smacked into me with renewed force.

  Kieran was standing at the stove, brandishing a metal frying pan like it was a deadly weapon, apparently providing a one-man show for little Libby; who was clapping enthusiastically on a seat at the stone counter. She was wearing pink cotton pyjamas. Kieran wore only a pair of grey joggers and no shirt. I hung back for a moment, unable to help myself as I ogled over his perfect naked torso. I wasn’t normally the type of girl that gets all hot and bothered when she sees a fit guy, but Kieran was different. The rippling muscles coated his body like armouring and his tanned skin was the gorgeous colour of cinnamon, tarnished only with battle scars. A dark gold chain, almost identical to mine but with different symbols, hung perpetually around his neck. But it wasn’t just his appearance that sent butterflies flittering in my stomach, it was the way he carried himself, with such an air of confidence it bordered on conceit. Every step he took was calculated, every movement assured and purposeful; graceful with the same stealth and precision as a hunting animal. I soon fussed over the chaotic mess of my hair.

  Kieran looked up when I entered; speaking to Libby. “See,” he said, “I told you she would come when she smelt this. This one’s a right little carnivore.”

  “Carnivore,” Libby repeated happily, her black eyes shining. I wondered in that moment whether or not black eyes had something to do with not only being a child, but also if it was just someone who hadn’t burned in general; like Adrian.

  “Little,” I repeated, raising my eyebrows, while smoothing down my tangled mop of ‘hair’.

  He finished frying the bacon, proceeding to pile it up onto thick slices of crusty white bread. Then he put the pan back down and came to stand over me with his towering, muscular frame. Jeez, his biceps were as big as my head. He didn’t need to say anything else; the challenge was in his eyes.

  “I’m not short,” I protested eventually, shoving him from my personal space like he’d bitten me, not that I’d mind… quit it Ruby, I battered myself. “You’re just big. Where is everybody?” I asked as I groggily clambered up onto the available chair next to Libby. I smiled when she waved.

  Kieran served up breakfast, handing a bacon sandwich to Libby with the crusts delicately sliced off; meanwhile I attempted to keep my eyes away from Kieran’s chiselled body. Libby snatched the sandwich up hungrily.

  “Bris is in Adrian’s room, probably fornicating.” My eyes widened in surprise at this but he continued nevertheless, “Chara is in her room being antisocial. Will and Nik are hunting but of course I’m not allowed to go as its too straining on my poor frail back.” he said bitterly, “And Ebbs went for food, leaving me in charge,” he added with an intentionally superior tone.

  “Does Ebony have house insurance?” I asked innocently, “or does she want it to burn down?”

  “Why?” he retorted, “are you planning to sing?”

  “It’s too early in the morning to deal with idiots,” I muttered grumpily.

  “So go outside then,” Kieran suggested. “I’m sure at least one of your personalities would appreciate the quiet.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Or what?” he smirked arrogantly. A flicker of irritation fluttered in my stomach; which was still persistently complaining about my lack of morning-food. I’m grouchier when I’m hungry.

  “I’ll kick your ass.” You never know, maybe I could.

  “Pah!” he scoffed, “You sure you can even reach it?” he looked down at me from his superior height and smiled.

  “I’m not short,” I said then thought curiously, “Is that really where Bris is?”
>
  “Probably,” he shrugged, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Really?” I wondered, perplexed at the thought of anyone being able to like Adrian enough to want a relationship. He was just so cold and…angry.

  “Yeah,” Kieran frowned, “The only problem is, I think Adrian actually likes her, whereas she just wants him because she thinks it annoys me.”

  “Why would she think that?” I asked.

  “We used to mess about a bit,” he said nonchalantly, “But she wanted something more. I don’t think she ever got over it.”

  “Oh Kieran,” I sighed, looking out of the window, seeing rolling grey clouds hovering above the mountains in the distance, dropping millions of snowflakes. “Must every girl you meet fall in love with you?”

  “Afraid so,” he laughed, and then his expression dimmed and softened unexpectedly, “Though none so far have counted for much.”

  I looked at him with a quizzical stare, but then my attention wavered as the intriguing scent of bacon wafted to me again. My stomach moaned. Kieran smirked. As the strips sizzled in the pan he casually asked, “Want some?”

  I nodded eagerly, “That’d be nice.”

  How come things take so much longer to cook when you’re really hungry? Kieran picked up the pan finally, bacon cooked, and started carelessly tossing the yummy stuff up on a thick hunk of homemade bread. I swear my mouth watered as he laid it on a plate and slowly sliced it in half Jamie Oliver/M&S style. Coming around the side of the table, carefully emphasizing his movements, he carried the diet-ruining, hangover-curing breakfast. My belly rumbled ravenously again as he picked up the sandwich, offering…and abruptly ripped a bite from it. Smiling arrogantly through a mouthful of pig, he said, “You know where the pan is.”

  Growling, I plonked off the chair and went to fetch my own damn breakfast.

  “A gentleman would have made it for me,” I grumbled, more annoyed by his teasing than anything else. There was more uncooked bacon wrapped in a brown sheet of paper, like an old-fashioned butcher had packaged it. I took two slices and carefully laid them in the centre of the spitting-hot pan. Kieran had the nerve to plonk into my chair and smirk.

  “I’m not gentle, princess, I’m rough and ignorant like a real man,” he informed me, tearing into his sandwich and licking his lips irritatingly. “We were waiting for you to wake up. Or slither from your lair; whichever it is that you do.”

  I was instantly suspicious, “Why?”

  I finished frying off the bacon, found the loaf of white bread and hacked off a thin slice, then assembled my sandwich. I then began to devour it.

  “You eat like such a lady,” Kieran frowned.

  “So do you.” I smiled attractively, displaying most of my sandwich.

  “But yeah, as I was saying, we were waiting for you to get up because Chara and Ebbs need to take you to Temardra.”

  Before I could say anything, Ebony literally danced into the room. “Morning,” she greeted cheerfully.

  “Morning,” I said politely.

  “Mummy,” Libby rejoiced, throwing up her arms so Ebony could scoop her up. Ebony hugged her close for a moment before sitting her back down.

  “How are you?” she asked me as she lifted a canvas bag onto the table and began emptying its contents; which was mostly vegetables. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Fine thank you,” I answered courteously.

  “Has Kieran told you about us taking you to Temardra?” She wondered. “You need to buy some things for tonight. And get inked, if you want to.”

  “Inked?” I asked.

  “Do you want to keep your marks?” She wondered, gesturing towards the gorgeous spiralling patterns that covered my right arm and slowly made their way over my new body. “If you do, you need them to be inked over with Tabya ink; otherwise they’ll be gone in a few weeks. Of course you’ll still only be able to see them before or after a Change and while you’re using your gift, but most people choose to keep them anyway.”

  I never even thought that I would lose my marks. I felt like they represented the new me, a fresh start, I didn’t want them to just disappear.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked.

  “It’s done with a needle and ink,” Kieran said. “Of course it hurts. Any tattoo does.”

  I glowered at him but then heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Chara and she’d overheard the end of our conversation. She was fully dressed and added when she entered the kitchen, “You also need a wing brace.”

  “What’s a wing brace?”

  “You know the leather bags that wrap around wings?” Ebony asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You need to have one of those, only you need a proper one.”

  “A proper one?”

  “Here,” Kieran gestured for me to follow him. “I’ll show you.”

  Nodding to Ebony, Kieran lead me outside into a massive pavilion-type building which I first assumed was a garage–except now I think about it they don’t actually have cars here. Opening the door, I realised that it was really a room filled with weapons, equipment and other dangerous Phoenix devices. Open doors lead outside to a gravelled tennis-court sized pitch. Weird markings were painted onto the floor in bizarre curling circles.

  “Here,” Kieran said, walking towards me while carrying something dark and heavy-looking, “this is a wing brace.”

  He lifted up a massive lump of heaving material. It opened out as a series of complicated straps made of a strong black material and metal links that laced together in protective columns, like chain mail. I frowned at it, trying to picture how it would fit on a Phoenix. It just looked like a heavy mess.

  I said eventually, “How the hell does that work?”

  “Complicatedly,” Kieran replied. He stretched it out and the muscles in his arms stood out like thick cords; it must have been seriously heavy. “This one’s mine from when I used to guard.”

  “You were a guard?” I wondered, but he was, seventeen when he left here. How young was he when he was a guard?!

  “A second protector actually, for the Lady Delia,” he answered. “As soon as I Changed she said she wanted me. To be fair, who could resist?”

  “But you must have been like fourteen or something!” I protested. How could he have the responsibility to protect someone’s life at that age?

  “I was twelve,” he corrected, “and a little advanced for my age. Soon got bored though; everyone seemed to like Delia, hardly anyone tried to kill her.”

  “How boring for you,” I muttered to myself. I walked over to Kieran and held up my hands, palms upraised, “Can I look?” I wondered.

  “You won’t be able to hold it,” Kieran stated.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him, reaching for it. Instinctively he moved back.

  “No seriously,” he said, “you won’t be able to hold it.”

  I gritted my teeth irritably. I can do what I damn well want. “I can do it.”

  Kieran shrugged, his expression was filled with lazy contempt; like he wasn’t really that bothered what I did anyway. He dropped it into my hands.

  And I collapsed under the weight of it.

  Bloody hell, what was it made of?

  Kieran reached out as I stumbled over, gravity pulling me unyieldingly. He moved as if to grab me to stop me falling over but instead just took hold of the brace and let me fall. I landed roughly on my backside.

  “Careful,” Kieran warned, picking a piece of dirt off a silver buckle on the wing brace. “You might break it.”

  Embarrassedly, with a face brighter than a strawberry, I staggered back up again as Kieran hung the wing brace back up on the wall where it joined several others.

  “But why do I need one?” I asked finally as we were re-entering the house.

  “Because you’re a Swartette, therefore you need to look like one, be trained like one and be as deadly as one. And anyway,” he added, “it’ll strengthen your wings.”

  We were back in the kitch
en now; Ebony was still in there, sweeping Libby up into her arms, saying to me as she left the room, “We’ll get going in about half an hour.”

  “Okay,” I called, but she’d disappeared.

  “She’s gone.” Kieran said.

  “I know.”

  My first visit to the massive city centre flew by. As soon as we left the house we walked through the fields down into the main city, and it wasn’t long before I was led to the biggest high-street I had ever seen.

  It was basically the Karisian version of Paris’s Champs Elysées, only larger and somehow more spectacular. The buildings were all tall, artistically constructed and blatantly old. The avenue stretched for miles it seemed. It wasn’t snowing here like it was in the mountains; it was still bright and sunny despite the chilling wind. A paved road ran down the centre with impressive black streetlamps and shops running parallel on both sides.

  People walked down the pavements. Groups of teenage girls wandered with linked arms, chattering away with smiling faces. Men walked with their girlfriends, clutching burdening shopping bags by their fingertips. Sharp business-types marched purposefully with stern, distant faces. I even saw people who acted suspiciously like tourists, pointing at the ancient buildings in parties-generally being annoying and in the way.

  Scattered on the long cobbled road were thriving market stalls selling everything imaginable; produce ranging from dried fruits to weird elemental equipment which I was clueless as to their function. Shows of dance, music and astonishing flight displays occurred constantly, surrounded by eagerly watching crowds. It was vibrant, it was exciting, and…well, very noisy.

  The girls automatically steered me towards the largest building on my right. I had been curiously edging closer to a man who was doing fantastic acrobatics as a bird, bending his body convolutedly into ridiculous positions.

  “First we need to sort out your brace,” Ebony explained, her voice loud as she struggled to be heard over the conventional sounds of a busy city day.

  We entered into what I imagined Tiffany’s would be like. The floors were covered in expensive patterned carpets, the walls decorated with fine art, and all around me were hundreds of glass cabinets, only instead of jewellery these cabinets contained very expensive looking weapons; some encrusted with jewels the size of my fist. The ceilings were high and the walls covered in gigantic metal wing braces and armour. I was too busy ogling, my mouth unattractively gaping open, to notice when a man stepped forwards.