Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Forty-Five

Lukas felt utterly guilty and made sure to admonish himself for his blatant selfishness—and, once again, ignorance. Yevvi's disapproving glare and poison words echoing in his mind, a constant reminder of his own failures. He simply wanted, needed warmth from another person and such a gracious girl like Cesca seemed like a perfect candidate. With her kind eyes, mischievous grin and unfaltering comfort, Lukas respected her, envied her. Once pleasantly willing to participate in his advances, now stood frozen with a distant look plastered on her face, Lukas swiftly retracted his hands. He spied the helplessness consuming her, the hidden fear. He had crossed a line.

Quietly, Lukas excused himself, barely mustering an apology. Usually, he was prone to thundering in the opposite direction, angry and unaware of his oblivion. Lukas's mind wandered to his past king, the king whose flame was once radiant and powerful, to the dreams of him taking advantage of his mother. The memories of his uncovered childhood. He had become comfortable with his power, with the thrill of getting whatever he desired, yet hadn't realized the true impact it made. Is this who Lukas has become? Pathetic, he spat. Now, he sped outside the kitchen, flickering his eyes to anything in an attempt to wipe the shame bubbling within him. Instead, he spied the local tavern and headed for it.

Gulping down one large ale, then another, then another, his world turned and bended. Glistening morning sun became a dull afternoon illumination. Brisk wind became a steady breeze. Revellers stumbled and giggled, singing bawdy tunes amongst their cadre. Lukas swayed in his seat by the bar, throwing coins at the waiter and demanding more sweet juice. For a moment, he thought he saw another figure beside him, hood concealing her thick blood hair and dazzling eyes. Makeup smudged with peppered bruises brutally adorning her strong face. The warrior witch who had trailed him, captured him, strung him along on some unknown mission of hers. Evanora Gannon, the ex-high council member who burnt her people to ashes, who defeated mighty beasts with just a dagger. The dagger now seated on his waist. Gods, why was he so suddenly infatuated with his past captor? Lukas's drunken haze hadn't cleared the shame nor the burning memory of his recent mistake, but it had unveiled a hidden feeling within him. A writhing passion and fight that only a certain witch coaxed out of him.

Frustrated with what the ale had done to his mind, Lukas barged out the tavern door...only to end up at the distillery down the road.

~~~

Lukas's feet scuffed the rough gravel path as he absentmindedly trailed it, brushing twigs and stray leaves off his shirt—courtesy of the farming patch he had blacked out on. The sun slowly descended, a calming peach swirling through the darkening blue sky. After his escapades in the distillery—snatching fresh wine and stumbling to escape angry workers—and a peaceful nap on growing crops, his mind felt somewhat clearer. It was quite simple; Lukas would politely apologize to the woman he had offended and then dutifully return to his mission of scouting the Soran palace. A part of him felt doubtful of his so-called foolproof plan.

A devious lull pricked his ears and those smothering sapphire eyes spotted him. Lukas almost groaned, almost whipped around and ran. It wasn't too late. He could—

"Lukas! I thought I'd never see you again," Loura bounced towards him, pestering Lukas with that demure guise.

He mumbled a response, partially a greeting, partially a vulgar curse. Soon, he was pulled to where the travelling circus's tent was stationed, the scent of roast pork lunging at him. He could have hurled, happy to forgo any sort of sustenance. Kainara playfully swatted Rue's arm—albeit, the tortured expression on his face suggested that her strength was far from playful.