Page 62 of The Fury She Holds
“The mages. They’ve been after you since before the rescue at the mansion.” His eyes widened. “And before the incinerator. They were after you then too.” His voice trailed off. “You’re sure you haven’t done anything to warrant this hunt?” His voice held genuine concern.
Tal stopped in her tracks, causing Faron to step past her and then backtrack. Her resolve wavered. “I—no. They’ve been hunting me since the night Pochette’s burned down, likely even before.”
“So, they’re not hunting you for attacking them. Then why—?”
Tal started walking again, slowly. Her companion jolted to keep pace with her. After a breath, she reluctantly explained, “They made a deal with Pochette to capture me. He and I had… a business agreement. I’d periodically check in to make sure he upheld his part. He was going to use one of the meetings to ambush me and sell me to the mages.”
His utter astonishment almost made her laugh. “Okay… I’m going to assume that you did not take that lightly. I’d love to hear about your reaction, but why hunt you in the first place?”
Tal paused. That same question from before plagued her. Could she trust him? For her own safety, she had refrained from sharing her ability when they first met, but after spending so much time together, she’d grown to accept the noble as a regular in their crew of misfits.
It had been years since she’d shared her secret with anyone new, not even Daire had been awarded that privilege. She showed Carrick after only a few days out of necessity. She’d taken a few months to open up to the twins. Egan had witnessed her fury when he stumbled upon Tal in a skirmish. She immediately accepted him into their group for jumping in to help her. She’d only known Faron for a few weeks, and so much about him still remained a mystery. But something about the noble drew her to him. She steeled herself and said, “Come on.”
The Kiln was the safest place to practice her fury. She’d occasionally used magic elsewhere in the tunnels or even on the surface, but she always ran the risk of being noticed or starting a fire. Tal ushered Faron into the small room and closed the door with a screeching metallicthud. His unease did not come as a surprise. Scorch marks marred the floor and ceiling, and questionable burnt remains sat in a small pile at the center of the room.
“Okay, so they’re after you because you own a really great torture chamber?” He laughed nervously.
“I’m about to trust you with something that, if it got out, would put a price on my head higher than anything you’ve ever seen before.”
“A bounty hunter with a bounty?” he attempted a joke once more.
Rather than telling him, she held her palm, face up, in front of her. His brows furrowed.
Tal called to her fury. Pulling at the energy within, she felt a low tingle in her chest. Slowly, it crawled to her shoulder and walked down her arm. She exhaled and the weight of a pebble satin her palm. It warmed as the pressure built. Soon a light glow emitted from the center. She studied Faron’s reaction. When his eyes widened at the appearance of light, she pulled more fury into her hand, and the glow rose into a single flame.
Faron’s mouth opened in astonishment. The single flame grew into a ball the size of her fist. He stiffened as her fury reflected in his eyes. She let the fireball double in size until she tamped the energy feeding it. By then, Faron’s jaw had hit the floor.
Tal played with the ball of fire, letting it roll to her fingertips, and to the back of her hand, before returning it to her palm. She often performed the trick to combat boredom. If she really concentrated, she could toss the flame in the air and catch it like a ball.
“Bleeding hells, Tal! You have fury!”
“I’ve noticed,” she said darkly.
“You haveFIREfury!”
“Yes, I know.”
He ran his hands through his hair, turned around, took two steps, then turned back. He fidgeted, running a hand over his face. “They’re after you because you have fire fury!” he exclaimed. “Oh hells, they’re after you because you have fire fury,” he repeated with grim realization.
She nodded coolly. “I’m aware. By the way, you can’t tell anyone, not even Ed or Waylon.”
“That part’s obvious. What are we going to do?”
Tal chuckled. Her prior hesitation to tell him seemed silly now. “We? Are you involved now?”
“Aren’t I?”
“Are you?”
“I’d like to bet my coin on ‘yes.’”
She snuffed out the flame. “I’ll consider it. What do you bring to the table?”
“Good with a sword? A winning smile?” He tilted his head waiting for a response. “Battle axes?” he drawled.
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin, feigning deep thought. “Those are decent arguments. There’s one problem though.”
“Name your price.” He narrowed his eyes, pretending to be dreadfully serious.
