Free Taming Fire by Aaron Pogue Page A

with laughter. "Yes," she said. She nodded toward the room where I had changed. "I've been waiting here the whole time."
    I felt my blush burn brighter and ducked my head. I took a breath. I met her eyes again, and they were waiting. They were delighted. They were lovely.
    I licked my lips and tried a bow. "I am Daven," I said.
    She returned my bow instead of offering a hand. "And I am Isabelle," she said. 
    "Just Isabelle?" I asked.
    She arched an eyebrow at me. "Just Daven?" I spread my hands, flustered, and she laughed again. It sounded like moonlight. She came half a step closer and tilted her head to look up at me.
    "I am Isabelle of Teelevon, first-born daughter of the Baron Eliade. Come all the way from the farthest corners of the Ardain to find myself a prince to take home with me."
    I sighed and spread my hands. "Alas. And I am not a prince."
    "Indeed not," she said. She looked up and down the hall, and then stepped closer still and lowered her voice. One conspirator to another. "But you keep working on that act. Hang onto the clothes. Maybe before long you'll be able to pull it off."
    For a long moment we stood like that, our noses inches apart, her charcoal eyes wide and serious. Then my mouth broke in a grin, and hers answered it. I laughed, sharp and loud and utterly astonished, and she gave a little shrug—still smiling—and stepped away again.
    I laughed myself out, then met her eyes. She waited. I shook my head. "Are you always so kind to beggars from Chantire?"
    "Oh no," she said, suddenly serious. "No, not to most of them. But there's a special place in my heart for princes."
    I looked at her for a long moment, and my breath escaped me again. "I'm only a shepherd," I said. My eyes lingered on hers, and I had to lick my lips again. "But I'll certainly let you know if I'm ever anything more."
    She blinked, surprised, and then opened her mouth to answer. Even as she did, I heard the door behind me open. A servant was going through with a tray loaded with silver goblets and a glistening silver wine jug. Beyond him I saw Claighan, red in the face and arguing with another old man, and I felt a little shiver shake me. I remembered how important all of this was, how much depended on my appearance before the king, and here I stood in the hall flirting with a girl three times my better.
    I turned back to her. I took half a step, half reached for her hand with a thought to kiss it farewell. My heart pounded and my anxiety rose and I gave a little shake of my head and met her eyes one more time. "I'm sorry," I said. "I must go."
    Her lips parted, her eyes widened, but behind me I heard Claighan speak my name and I settled for a weak little wave. The cloak flared dramatically around my heels as I turned. Perhaps I looked the prince, but I felt the fool. I left the girl behind and went to see my wizard.
    Though he'd spoken my name, he hadn't been calling me. I slipped into the room without a sound and found a sprawling salon, richly-appointed, with a fire roaring in a fireplace on the outside wall. Claighan and the other old man were arguing, waving their arms and speaking with fierce faces, but mostly in low voices that didn't carry across the large room. The servant I'd followed stepped past the couches in the middle of the room and placed a pitcher of wine and several glasses on the small serving table there.
    Then he turned and caught sight of me. He moved quickly back to me, whispering. "The Masters, they are not happy. Perhaps you should speak with them another time?"
    I smiled in spite of the nervousness that suddenly danced in my stomach. "I have little choice. I'm here with Master Claighan."
    He shrugged. "Princes fear to tread where wizards argue, but young men will always do what they will." He slipped the silver tray under his arm and stepped past me, but just before he reached the door he turned and whispered back to me, "But don't forget that I warned you." And then he left in the same quiet way the