Born of Fire

“Not long.”


Grabbing her hand, he headed for a temple across the street.

She ran to keep up with him. “What are you doing?”

“Trust me.” He opened the door to the temple and slid inside.

Her trust wearing thin, she followed.

Inside the dark foyer, racks of unlit white candles lined the pale pink walls. Syn grabbed two and handed her one. “Just do what I do.”

He opened the intricately carved wooden door to the chapel and walked slowly down the aisle. Her legs trembling, she kept wondering if the men had seen where they’d gone.

And if they had, would they follow?

The last thing she wanted was a confrontation inside a holy place.

Realizing they were in a Kiloran temple, she looked at the intricately carved statuary of various saints that stood on pedestals every few feet. It was actually quite beautiful and serene.

With his heels clicking lightly against the hardwood floor, Syn led her past their watchful eyes to the velvet-encased altar, where an eternal oil lamp was set. He knelt before it and tapped his forehead twice before touching his heart. Then he kissed the candle and lit it from the lamp.

“Now you,” he whispered.

She duplicated his gesture. He cupped his hand around the flame and walked to a prayer bench just to the right of the altar, near a small door. Kneeling down on the bench, he placed the candle in a small holder.

She followed suit. All around the elaborate, gilded temple, she could hear people whispering their prayers.

All except Syn.

With his head sedately bowed, he said nothing as he appeared to pray. Until she noted that his eyes were open and he was discreetly searching the temple for something.

The chapel door creaked open. Shahara turned her head to see one of the men entering.

“Syn . . . they’ve found us.”

He looked to the door, then blew out his candle and took her hand. Shahara barely had time to blow out her own before he pulled her through the side door.

Her heart lodged painfully in her throat and choked her. He wasn’t actually going to lead them through the temple’s private grounds, was he?

Wasn’t that illegal or something? Or at the very least a grave sin?

The cold, dark hallway went on forever without a door. Syn pulled her down it until they came to a small alcove. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back into the shadows with him. Wanting to protest, she held her breath as she heard the door open and heavy footsteps approach.

Then she heard the gruff sound of a man coughing. Her heart stopped. This time, they were definitely caught. There was nowhere else they could go.





CHAPTER 10


Syn held her close against his chest. So close, she heard the pounding of his heart. Felt the rigidness of his body. And even though she should be terrified of what was about to happen, she found his presence soothing.

Another door opened just ahead of them and she heard several female voices whispering in a language that sounded an awful lot like the one Syn used.

The man came to a stop.

“What are you doing here?” one of the women demanded in an angry, intimidating tone.

At first Shahara thought they were talking to them, until she heard the unknown man respond. “I saw a murderer take refuge here. I’m looking for him.”

“Not on our private grounds you’re not. Get out.”

Two priestesses walked past their hiding spot without seeing them. As a third one paused beside them, Syn reached out and touched her arm.

The priestess glanced at them, then gaped. Closing her mouth, she took a step past their alcove so that she could shield them with her own body. She cleared her throat. “See to it that this man is thrown out on the street. Make sure he never disrespects our temple again.”

Once the doors closed behind the man and the two priestesses, the remaining priestess turned back to them and smiled tenderly at Syn. “My goodness, child, trouble is definitely your handmaiden.”

Syn released Shahara and straightened up like a guilty child confronting an irate parent. He hung his head and she cocked a curious eyebrow. She’d seen Syn angry, hurt, and contrite. But shame was a new emotion and she wondered what about the priestess made him feel it now.

“I’m sorry, Mother Anne. I shouldn’t have come here while I was being pursued. It was wrong to bring them here. But I didn’t know where else to go.”

The priestess touched his cheek. “Never be sorry for needing help, child. We all do at some point.”

Still, shame burned in his dark eyes and it made Shahara want to comfort him.

She shifted her gaze to the priestess and her golden robe. It shimmered in the dim light like a vibrant candle flame and it looked as soft as a cloud. Her bearing as regal as a queen, the priestess’s gray hair was braided and then wound around the crown of her head.