Cursed by Fire (35 page)

He kept to his vow, rushing into her so hard her toes were barely clinging to the floor. She heard his hand hit the stone of the wall above her head and his other gripped her hip. All she could do was brace both hands against the wall as well and let him ride her as if she were a wild mare in need of breaking. All the while pleasure swirled and grew inside her, so much so it was all she could do to keep from crying out too loudly. Even surrounded by stone as they were, she still did not trust they would not be overheard. But instead of hindering her pleasure, the idea of getting caught, as terrifying a prospect as it was, only added to the racing of her heart and the keenness of her nerves.

She flew into orgasm and forgot to keep her voice down. She didn’t care. She had never known such pleasure and could not contain herself. But once was not enough for Dethan. He kept on until she came again, filling her again and again in an endless sea of thrusts, his stamina the stuff of legends, until finally she had to beg him for reprieve. With a chuckle, he bent to kiss her shoulder briefly.

“As you wish,” he said, a smile in his voice.

And yet he drove her up once more … one last time,
this time losing himself in her even as she was lost around him again.

She was absolutely boneless and exhausted. She couldn’t have held herself up a single moment longer. So it was a good thing he was there to sweep her off her feet and carry her to the bed. He snuggled down under the covers with her, refusing to let so much as an inch of air come between them. And still he touched her, his hands running over her skin again and again.

“Now rest, little juquil,” he said softly against her ear. “I will wake you in an hour and maybe love you once more before I am forced to let you leave me.”

“Mmm,” she said. Then she yawned fiercely. “That sounds nice.”

“Oh, it will be,” he promised her as she drowsed toward sleep all too quickly. She had spent hours so keyed up, in need of him, and now at last there was relief and reprieve, and she was right where she needed to be.

She had never known such happiness.

It frightened her. It scared her to think it might all somehow disappear tomorrow. She didn’t know how exactly, but she feared that unknowing more than anything … even more than she feared Grannish’s fists and temper.

The thought troubled her as she fell asleep.

The days passed quickly after that, each one seeming to fly by … the nights between Dethan and Selinda seeming to fly by even more swiftly. Because of his curse their time as lovers was so very short, but the hours when he was healing allowed for them to learn about each other more thoroughly. She learned that, like her, his mother had died on the cusp of his adulthood and it had profoundly affected the course of his life. In his
rage over her death, he had joined an army—any army—so he could kill with impunity, venting his fury on his enemies ruthlessly. Before he knew it, he had moved up in rank, and even though his rage had long ago been spent, he found himself marshaling his own army, conquering city after city in Weysa’s name.

Both his wives he had wed for the same reason: to gain a foothold in the government of their city. It turned out that he was just as willing to conquer in peaceful ways as he was with a strong arm and fist. Selinda thought that showed remarkable intelligence and benevolence. He scoffed at that and said it was more that peaceful ways cost less in both coin and lives.

Dethan worked hard on his army throughout the day, training his recruits and testing the mettle of his new commanders. Some he kept on; others he let go. Kyran remained, having proved himself invaluable as his right arm time and again. Dethan began to trust him more with responsibility and with the plans he was making.

He also rounded up the city guard for practice sessions at the fairgrounds, pitting them against his greener soldiers, only to find out half of them were just as green and untrained. Soon all of them were swinging swords whenever they were not on duty at the walls or in the streets. All the better, Dethan thought. The city guard would be just as important in the skirmish to come as the army would be.

Day after day the Hexis army swelled in numbers. The barracks were raised and found to not be enough to house them all. So more barracks were raised. Soon there was a ring of them entirely around the fairgrounds. When not training, the soldiers were not allowed to be idle. They were assigned to either make rounds with the city guards or help forge weapons. For they were very short on swords, bows and arrows, and long spears. To
say nothing of shields. There were large metal sculptures of the ruling monarchs past and present in the center of the fairgrounds and Dethan had them torn down, using the metal to make the weapons they needed. There was not enough to make shields, but they would have to make do. Some of the men found wood and began to make strong wooden shields for themselves. They had four experienced blacksmiths and four apprentices. They in turn began to teach others, or at least use them to help with the simpler work. The forges were going all day long and into the dark hours of night.

Dethan also commandeered every horse worth its weight. Much to the protestations of the wealthy noblemen who owned them. But in a surprising turn it was Grannish who silenced them. And that was another thing. Grannish seemed to have become quite helpful. Dethan of course did not trust his motivations.

It was nearly harvest time before Dethan felt everything was at the ready. But harvest time, he knew, would mean nothing. The majority of the fields stood between the city and the bulk of the Redoe. They would no doubt be destroyed in the battle.

It had been a race. Could he get the army ready before the Redoe could undermine the walls? On his side had been the fact that the city was lying on the bedrock of the mountain behind them. That meant the Redoe had to chisel their way through just about as often as they had to dig their way through. Had he been in command of the Redoe, he would not have even bothered with such a near futile task.

Dethan had searched the ranks of the Redoe time and again for their commander. They lived in tents made of waxed fabrics, most of them pieced together like quilts. No doubt the remnants of old clothing. It seemed the nomadic Redoe used everything they had wherever they
could in order to live and survive. But that meant no demarcation of rank, no real banners or other symbols to indicate who was in charge. He watched the activity closely. He could tell from what he was seeing that they were preparing for action. It was only a matter of days before they attacked the city, in his opinion.

It was time to take advantage of the situation … before the Redoe were actually ready. The citizens of Hexis would never realize just how close to being overrun they were, but the grand had been kept more than apprised of it. His gratitude toward Dethan had grown exponentially with every passing day. Dethan had quietly cultivated that gratitude into an all-out sense of trust. Luzien had thanked the gods for Dethan on more than one occasion, and had also made his disapproval toward Grannish and his former general more than clear when it came to matters of the Redoe.

Those were the days Selinda dreaded. For on those days Grannish would come to take his resulting temper out on her. He had made it a regular habit, releasing his fury on her and getting a perverse pleasure from it as well. That much was very clear. His threats against her family deepened the closer Dethan got to her father.

Mem Josepha became a regular visitor because of this. She would heal a desperate Selinda. Dethan could not know. Not under any circumstances. Not until after the action against the Redoe … after he had completely won her father’s trust and could then prove Grannish to be the violent, deceptive man that he was. It would do no good for Dethan to find out now. There was no sense in both of them feeling helpless to do anything about it.

The mem’s visits had another purpose. Josepha came to help Selinda exercise her mage ability too, helping her to gain some kind of control over the fire and its connection to her emotions. The progress was slow, sometimes
seemingly insignificant. The only time she could reproduce the large flame, it seemed, was when she became irritated or outright angry. Luckily she had not accidentally set fire to anything during the mem’s teachings. Josepha said this was because Selinda had had so much practice controlling her emotions and suppressing them, which allowed her to control and suppress the flame. In fact, that skill was probably why it was so hard for her to access the fire. She did not know how to let go of it, just as she did not know how to give her emotions free rein.

All the while she came to Dethan most nights. They were by far the best moments of her days. The only time she avoided him was after Grannish took his fists to her. She was too afraid he might discover the truth. Thankfully he never questioned her or complained about it. He simply took it in stride and took Hanit’s excuses at face value.

Dethan walked into the fortress and went in search of the grand. He strode into the grand’s offices and found him, as usual, in conference with Grannish. There were scrolls of information lying all about them and Dethan wondered about it. He wondered just how difficult it would be to take over the reins of this government. Grannish was so deep into it, his roots reaching far and wide. The damage could be unfathomable. But he would not worry about that. If he had to tear it all apart and rebuild it from the ground up, it wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be insurmountable. In fact, he would prefer doing things from scratch. It would help him get a better handle on the workings of the city.

“Your most honorable,” he greeted Luzien, as usual ignoring Grannish. “Your army is ready for action.”

“Finally,” Grannish said. “It has taken you nearly two wanings of the moon to get them ready.”

“Armies are not built overnight, or easily. Even with the time taken, it is not enough. But they have heart and we are out of time.”

“You mean you are out of time,” Grannish said, just this shy of snide. “The agreement was you had until turntide. It is nearly upon us.”

“I am aware of the time,” Dethan said coldly. “It grows very, very short.”

Grannish was no fool. He heard the undercurrent in those words. It was a threat. It made him bristle, but he forced himself to remain calm.

“So we are to action, then. You will give me reports,” the grand commanded.

“Will you not watch from the walls?” Dethan asked.

Luzien looked appalled. “And risk the leader of the city to some stray arrow? That would be most unwise.”

“I see,” Dethan said. And he did. Not only was Selinda’s father a blind puppet, he was a coward as well. “We will begin at dawn.”

“At dawn, then. Good luck, Sor Dethan.”

“Thank you. I look forward to victory.” He looked directly at Grannish. “And my prize.”

Selinda was pacing her rooms anxiously, her hands clasping tightly and then releasing, over and over again. The news of the next morning’s action had filtered down to her relatively quickly. Grannish was not the only one with household servants loyal to him. In fact, she had relied on those connections more over the past weeks.

When the door opened and the mem walked in, she hurried over to her.

“Mem, please … He goes to fight the Redoe in the morning. You must teach me how to help him! I am a magess! What if they have one of their own? What if their numbers prove too much?”

“He?” the mem asked, one fine-lined brow rising.

Selinda stilled. She had not meant to give herself away, but in her panic she had said the wrong thing.

“I only meant … General Dethan. He fights for us and so must I. You must teach me how to help him.”

“I cannot teach you what you want in so little time. It takes years to become a practiced magess. Certainly to become one of use in a war. No, I am afraid you must be like the rest of us and wait and pray and hope. Perhaps if we pray to the goddess—”

“No! Prayer is as good as doing nothing!” Selinda snapped, pacing back and forth again.

“Prayer to the gods cannot hurt and it may actually help.”

Yes, but which gods? They were at war with one another. And she would not call forth their attention. Not after knowing what they did to Dethan night after night.

“The gods are cruel,” she whispered.

“Some are, it is true,” the mem agreed, surprising Selinda. “Come, child, stop your pacing. You are making me dizzy.”

The mem reached out in a rare moment of contact, surprising Selinda. She caught her by the wrist and pulled her to a stop.

“You must realize that we cannot—” The mem broke off, her eyes going suddenly wide. “You are with child!”

Cold shock and fear slammed into Selinda. “I am not!” she cried, jerking her hand away from the mem. “Th-that’s impossible! You know I am chaste!”

“I know it is expected of you,” the mem said calmly. “But if you are with child, then I also know it is not true.”

“Stop saying that!” Selinda leapt for her dressing table, snatching the trimming blade off the table and rushing at the mem with it, holding it under her throat.
The mem leaned back a little, to avoid the bite of the blade, but she did not recoil from it. “Say it again and I will cut your throat!”

“And then you will be with child and a murderess,” Josepha said.

In the face of her fearless calm, Selinda’s fingers went lax and the blade dropped to the floor. She collapsed to her knees and her eyes filled with tears.

“Do not mistake me,” Selinda said fast and soft. “I am glad of it. Truly glad of it. But to speak a word of it would mean the death of not only my child but me and all the ruling family. You must not say anything!”

“I have known for two wanings that you are a magess. Has it gotten back to you that I have said anything of it?”

Selinda shook her head.

“Then know you can trust me.”

“I do not have the luxury of trust. Not as long as Grannish lives.”

“I can see why that would be. But Grannish does not own me, however much he has tried.”

“He’s tried?” Selinda asked with surprise. Then she rethought the emotion. “Of course he has,” she said with a sigh. “How is it that you were able to turn him away?”