Free Fire Witch by Thea Atkinson

surprise there," she said.
    "And he's no rider."
    "That explains a lot," she said.
    "He's very good at killing, though," Chelan said in a musing way. "No one expects it of him and so it makes him even more lethal."
    She felt as though someone had blown cold air down her neck and hugged herself tighter. When he noticed, he pushed himself to his feet and limped his way to her. She took a step backward and fetched up against his horse. He placed either hand on the beast behind her, trapping her between his arms. He smelled distinctly of musk and blood and perspiration, but there was a spicier fragrance that spilled around him as though he was in the habit of eating cinnamon and that it was bleeding from his pores.
    "Do you need me to carry you?" he said, his face so close to hers that she thought he would bury his mouth into her neck the way Feran had.
    "No," she squeaked out.
    "Good," he said. "I don't think I have it in me." His hand slipped down behind her shoulders, finding the small of her back as he gave her a hearty shove toward the blanket. With a certain amount of trepidation, she went down on her knees and found a comfortable spot on her side, facing the fire. When she thought he would take his place behind her, Raga broke through the darkness with an armload of fuel that he dropped next to the fire. Then he shoved his hands into a pouch tied to his belt and came out with a pile of dark matter.
    "It might smell a little," he said. "But it will burn just fine."
    "I'll never complain about a little bit of shit if it keeps me warm," Chelan said as the youth threw piles of dung into the petering flame. Moments later, it blazed a little brighter. She could swear she saw a woman within with long blazing hair, torching men at her will.
    "I'll take watch," the boy said. "I'll let you know when they come."
    "Let me know before they come," Chelan said. "Just in case they feel a resurgence of mutiny when they catch sight of our red-haired beauty here."
    The youth pulled his blanket from the back of his horse and strode off again into the darkness. Chelan climbed down onto the blanket and wrapped himself around her back. Even as her mind refused to give in, her body melted against his with relief as she felt his heat envelop her.
    "Much better," he mumbled into her hair as he laid a heavy arm over her waist. An equally solid and heavy leg tangled over and between hers, effectively pinning her to him.
    She thought she would stay awake until he fell into a near comatose sleep, and then she would slip out from beneath him and creep to Raga's horse--Chelan's was too big a monster for her to manage – once astride, she'd find a way to get home.
    She dreamed of lighting her own fires as she fled, using her power as fuel, gifted to her through her mother's bond. She'd seen her mother scrying through flame before and she was certain now that her mother was sending her a message. Be ready, it said. Together we will burn these two-legged beasts alive.
    She waited several moments for his even breathing, and then she remembered no more.
     
      
     
    She woke with the sense that something was wrong. At first, she thought it was because she knew she had slept all night without a single nightmare to spoil her rest. There was no suffocating cavern where she lay smoking beneath yards of linen and oil, with her flesh threatening to leap into flame. It had become so much part of her life that she feared she had finally given in to its crouching presence and mourned when it went missing. Then she realized it was because the warm body next to her had gone rigid and there was a wall of frigid morning air snaking beneath her armpits and creeping up her bare legs. She blinked her eyes open, shading them against the bright morning sun with a weary palm.
    At first she couldn't comprehend the shadows that stood over her, blocking out shafts of light until she realized the shadows were men and that one of them had a sword pointed downward. She followed the