Cursed by Fire (15 page)

“Are you saying the grand is so weak that he would not be able to see through a simple charlatan, if indeed
I was one?” Dethan asked archly, one of his dark brows lifting high.

“I …” Firru hesitated, looking away from Dethan to see his liege lord’s expression of interest in his response. “I-I just meant to say …” he stammered.

“Your grand has hired me to find out what is wrong with his army and to use that army to get rid of the Redoe. I can hardly do that if you plan on fighting me every step of the way,” Dethan said. “If indeed there is an army.” He frowned as he thought on that. “A city guard is not an army. The city guard’s focus is to protect the city while your army’s focus should be beyond the walls. Do you have an army?”

The general’s gape-mouthed, wide-eyed silence was telling, even if Selinda didn’t already know the answer. There was no army. Firru had always said that the city guard was more than enough to keep the city safe.

“We have no soldiers and nowhere to find them,” Grannish spoke up, discomfited irritation in the lines of his body. Firru was
his
man. He couldn’t afford for his man to look bad in front of the grand.

“That is peculiar, for
I
saw a mass of soldiers in the center of the city square yesterday.”

“There were no soldiers in the city square! The only thing taking place in the square is the fair!” Grannish said.

“Yes, and there were hundreds of healthy men able for battle if properly trained. Many of whom, as I understand it, are idle and starving as their farms are squatted upon outside the walls.”

“Mud farmers? What do mud farmers know about fighting?” Grannish scoffed. He laughed and many at the table laughed with him.

“Not much, I am certain, but it is their farms out there, so they will fight passionately for them. They are strong from backbreaking work, tilling muddy fields. A
little training and they could be a force to be reckoned with.”

Grannish laughed again, but there was an uneasiness in his tone that had not been there a moment ago. “And you will convince them to fight how? They will resent conscription.”

“I disagree. I believe they will readily volunteer. But there is only one way to prove which of us is right.”

“You are correct. I welcome the opportunity to be proved wrong. The aim is what is best for Hexis,” Grannish said, suddenly magnanimous. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at his grand. “That is all we want. You work for gold, but we work for the love and well-being of our city.”

“That remains to be seen,” Dethan said sotto voce. But Selinda heard him well enough. She also felt him. When she would have spoken a moment ago, leapt into the conversation, he had stayed her the way she had tried to stay him the night before, with a hand on her thigh and a gentle, insistent squeeze. She very rarely got to speak her opinion on matters, and in public in front of her father was one of the few venues she had. Sure, she might pay for it later, but at least she was able to openly speak her mind to her father, invest her opinion, and hope it somehow reached him on some level. At the very least it would cause Grannish to dance and bow and scrape a little faster to undo whatever damage she might have done. It was a small victory, if it could be called that, but it still made her feel a little better. But now Dethan was holding her back, trying to control her just as Grannish tried to control her.

No. That wasn’t fair, she thought hastily. He had not proved himself to be anything close to what Grannish was. Only time would tell on that score and on many others. For the moment, she had many other things to
be worried about that were far more serious than a missed opportunity to join a conversation.

For instance, the fact that he expected her to come to his bed tonight. The very thought of it had her feeling nauseated. Not that she was repulsed by him—she had to admit he was exceptionally appealing in a rugged sort of way, with his dark hair left free down to his shoulders and curling at the ends and the thick black of his lashes a perfect framework for his clover-green eyes. He was mind-numbingly tall, and that was to say nothing of his well-muscled body. She had seen all of it, but what she had seen had been covered in burns and scarring, dead flesh and ashes. Yet here he was today and she could see the meat in his biceps, the ropey veins running down and over his forearms. His hand on her leg was large and warm, and it was that touch that made her feel small in comparison to him. His palm nearly engulfed the whole of her thigh and she could feel his strength in his fingers. That strength seemed to seek out an unknown and secret part of her, making her highly aware of the imprint of each finger on her thigh and just how close those fingers were to a place where no man had ever touched her before. To a place that seemed to be … craving his touch, as scandalous as that sounded. Almost as if it were calling out to him. Selinda flushed hotly at the wanton sensation, confusion overtaking her as heat burned her cheeks. Was he doing this on purpose? Or was it just her own cravings making it seem so?

She suddenly had the idea that he was measuring how much strength he was using to get his message across … yet not hurt her, as if to say,
I have the strength to rip the world to shreds every moment of every day, but at this moment I choose to do otherwise
. But was that all he was saying? Was he perhaps asking for more? Here? Surreptitiously but in front of everyone? The idea sent
wicked, shocking chills down her spine and a wet heat appeared in secret places.

Selinda swallowed noisily. She wanted to push his hand away, but she found herself ridiculously fearing the skin-to-skin contact. She imagined it might burn her. Why she was suddenly imagining him to be all these dangerous things she could not say, but there it was all the same.

She stood up suddenly, causing a ripple of similar movement to occur down along the table.

“Please sit. I find I am not feeling well.” Although she found she felt better now that the pressure of his touch and all its possible meanings had been lifted. “I am going to rest awhile.”

“I will escort you to your rooms,” Dethan said immediately, talking over a similar offer being delivered by Jenden Grannish.

She couldn’t deny them both, and the hidden command in Grannish’s eyes made her decision for her quickly. “Thank you, Sor Dethan,” she said, lightly placing her hand atop his and letting him lead her away. It was a new experience, having two men vying for her attention, and she found it a horrible position to be in. To think some women actually enjoyed such things! She supposed it might be different were the suitors men one wanted to have the attention of, but one could never really choose these things, could one? Men would do what men wanted to do, as was proved at that moment. The very man she had sought to avoid was right now walking her up to her rooms.

“Thank you for remaining silent just now,” he said to her once they were out of the hearing range of anyone, surprising her greatly. She wasn’t used to being thanked for her behavior … or lack thereof.

“You are … welcome. Why would you not let me
speak?” she asked in honest curiosity, amazed to find she was no longer irritated by his silencing of her.

“Although you have not told me the whole of it, I have gathered you pay for your opinion in some way or another at Grannish’s hands. You will be tempting fate enough with your actions these coming weeks. I’ll not have you hurt over this.”

“He won’t hurt me,” she hedged. “He needs me too much. There are no other women for him to wed in this family. He has seen to that.”

“So you truly do believe he murdered your family. I had suspected it was someone, but I did not know who until you put forward Grannish. After all, it is obvious he was the only one left to gain by such a thing.”

“Yes. Before me were my two elder brothers and after me my two younger sisters. Though I suspect he was not responsible for Arra’s and Gia’s deaths. They were taken by plague. Arra was considered the greatest beauty of her time. It was more likely that I was the one in the way of him marrying her … until she died and left him with no option other than to marry something ugly and scarred.” She touched the ridged scarring on her jaw.

Suddenly she felt him grab hold of her. She was dragged into a dark alcove, out of the way of foot traffic, and pressed up against the wall. She gasped, looking up into his fiery green eyes.

“And that is the last time you will refer to yourself as ugly in my presence. You will not even think it and I will know if you do.” He gave her a little shake. “You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes upon, and believe me when I say I have seen the most beautiful women in the eight heavens and beyond. You are not the sum of this scar and it is not the only thing on your body worth seeing!”

Then, instead of pushing her away, Dethan drew her closer, his hands opening and closing again on her
upper arms, almost as though he was fighting himself for a moment over what he wished to do with her. She found herself pressed to the full length of his body, feeling his strength through the density of her corset and her skirts, as though she were not wearing them at all. The thought made her flush hotly and she knew it colored her face because he smiled a little as he looked down on her. Then he reached for the veil that covered the damaged half of her face and pulled it up and away. She gasped and tried to pull it back into place but he grabbed hold of her wrist and held her tightly until she stopped struggling.

“And this is the last time you will wear one of these while you are in my sight,” he said, pulling the cap completely from her head. It was pinned in place so it dragged at her hair, ruining the delicate chignon it had been sculpted into and Hanit’s hard work. He dropped the cap to the floor, and now that he had started, he finished pulling the rest of the pins free, letting the black mass dump down over her shoulders and back, letting it fill his hungry hands, where he stroked it and fondled it eagerly.

“Y-you don’t understand. I-I have never gone without my veil! Grannish will be very—”

“And,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken, “I think I should like you to wear your hair down as well. It makes the blue of your eyes stand out, and I find I like that. I noticed your eyes from the very first and find them stunning.”

“My eyes are not the first thing most people see when they look at me,” she said, her tone bordering on bitter. She tried to pull free of him but he tightened his hands around her head.

“They are the first thing
I
saw. And since I am to be your husband one day, I should think my opinion would be the only one that matters to you.”

When he put it like that, she stopped fighting him and relaxed in his hold a little.

“You are only marrying me to get to my father’s throne,” she said in a soft whisper, afraid her words would anger him, daring much by calling him on it. But instead of getting angry with her, he surprised her by chuckling.

“Only? You know very little about men if you think that is the only reason I want you as a wife, when you will warm my bed with this body for the rest of your days.” His hand filtered out of her hair, his large knuckles drawing along the skin from her collarbone to her breast. “But then again, in a world gone mad, where
this
is considered ugly, I can see how you might be twisted about.” He reached the swell of her breast, where it met the conservative line of her corset, and frowned. “What is this? Why do you bind yourself up in such a way?”

“I-it’s just a corset,” she stammered, her face on fire as he touched her in a way no one had ever touched her before.

“Yes. I gathered this is the fashion, for I saw it on other women at the table. But unlike you, they swelled over the top of theirs, showing off the plumpness of their breasts. And while I find it to be surprisingly bold, I wonder why you are not so daring. In my day no one wore these … corsets. Women left their bodies free. But still, you are bound tighter than most.”

“Some of the women are wearing underbusts,” she explained, “and others are … I just … I’m not allowed to flaunt myself.”

“Not allowed?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Grannish has forbidden it. I am not even allowed to wear makeup in the court fashion. If at all.”

“I had noticed that too. And while you do not need such embellishments, it wears ill on me that he should
prevent you from expressing your looks as other women do or as you might like to. We will have to change this.”

“Oh no!” she cried, sudden panic winging through her. “I cannot! You must not make me! Please! He will become enraged. He will—” She cut herself off and swallowed hard.

“He will what?” Dethan demanded to know, his expression turning thunderous. “What will he do to you?”

“Nothing,” she whispered in a lie. But knowing he would see through it, she hastily added, “Nothing serious. I’m sure I make more out of it than it really is.”

“And I’m sure his attitude and behavior in this matter set the trend for your other interactions with him. It set in motion your need to come to a complete stranger for help, bartering yourself to him freely without knowing a damned thing about him.”

His words made her swallow hard. “It had to be a stranger,” she whispered. “Grannish knows everyone else. Has them all afraid of him or in collusion with his goals. I knew, listening to you at the table, that anyone who understood the first thing about Grannish would never challenge him in such a way. His ego would not tolerate it. It is not just that he believes he’s not wrong; it is that he cannot tolerate a world where he might be deemed as being wrong. I do not think you understand what you are putting yourself into.”

“But you were hoping for that,” he mused, his glittering eyes searching her face. “And you do not believe I will succeed.”

“I did not,” she agreed breathlessly, “until I saw you this morning.” She quickly dared to ask, “Why are you not burned? You are a little, but nowhere near what I saw! You have healed almost completely in comparison to last night!”

“First, I must ask you, will your girl talk of this to
anyone? Is she in Grannish’s pocket? It seems to me she would be the best way to keep close eyes on you.”