Heart of Fire (27 page)

“Sryka sure has done a good job of
keeping you from crossing his path this week. Between eating up
your hours with all that study to no dinners in the hall...” Fynna
shifted. “I wonder why she doesn’t want you to see him.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want him to see
me.”

Fynna looked sideways at her. “Could
be. You do look a little—”

“Elven—I know. You commented on that
when we met. Besides, I’ve heard it before.”

“From who?” Fynna sucked a bit of
parsley out of her teeth.

“You ask a lot of questions.”
Jessalyne leaned forward, resting her chin on her bent
knees.

“I would ask less if you would
answer more. I can’t help it. Pixies are very curious by nature. So
tell me, what are you hiding?”

Jessalyne whipped her head around.
“What does that mean?”

“You keep secrets.” Fynna shrugged.
“But they’re yours to keep.”

“What makes you say
that?”

“You moan in your sleep. You
daydream constantly, rolling that pricey pearl between your
fingers. Please, before it kills me, tell me about the man you
bought the shirt for?”

“I can’t.” Jessalyne shook her
head.

“I am very good at keeping
secrets.”

Jessalyne sighed. “You must swear to
keep it.”

“I swear on my wings, I won’t tell a
soul.”

“He’s not the monster people think
he is. Well, he was, but he isn’t anymore. I don’t know if he can
turn into a crow, I never saw that, but I swear he would never eat
a newborn babe. Although he does like to eat.” Eyes on the sunset,
Jessalyne took solace in correcting Fynna’s misconceptions about
the dark elf. Smiling, she added, “And he’s a wonderful
kisser.”

Silence greeted her. She turned to
look at Fynna. The pixie stared back, mouth open, wide blue eyes
topped by raised eyebrows.

“You wanted to know.”

“Are you talking about who I think
you’re talking about?” She whispered. “The Black Death?”

“Please don’t call him that. His
name is Ertemis.”

“Oh my oh my...”

“You’re babbling, Fynna.”

“Did you see him kill anyone? How
did you meet? Is the rhyme true? Well, no, you probably wouldn’t
know that. Or maybe you would. What does he look like? Is he
handsome? Does he have sharp teeth?”

“I saw him kill…a water serpent.”
She refused to further color Fynna’s idea of Ertemis with the tale
of how he’d dispatched the bandits. “How we met is a long story for
another time. As for what he looks like, he is very handsome,
well-muscled, and tall. His skin is the color of soot, but with a
sheen like this pearl. His eyes are black ringed with silver and I
could stare into them endlessly. And his lips...they’re very
soft.”

“You definitely kissed
him?”

“More than once.”

The pixie hopped up and down. “What
was that like?”

“It was a magic all its own.”
Jessalyne let out a delighted sigh and laid back on the ground,
arms crossed beneath her head for a pillow. Through the leaves of
the rowan trees, a few bright stars twinkled in the early evening
sky.

“A magic all its own and you still
don’t think you’re in love with him? Just admit it,
already!”

“What good will it do me to be in
love with a man I won’t ever see again?”

Fynna plopped down. “Why do you
think that? You don’t know for sure. If he is who you say he is,
he’s used to getting what he wants. If he wants you, he’ll be back.
And from that bauble, I’m guessing he wants you very
much.”

“I cannot think about that now.”
Jessalyne hugged her knees tighter. “I meet the prince tomorrow and
I’m dreading it.”

Fynna slid closer and wrapped her
little arm around Jessalyne. “It will be over before you know it.
Let’s head back and have some tea and finish the rest of those
chocolate biscuits. Then you can go to sleep and dream about your
lover.”

Jessalyne gave Fynna a good-natured
shove. “Don’t call him that. Are all pixies so
bothersome?”

Fynna nodded. “I thought I mentioned
that.”

Jessalyne stood. “I think I will eat
all the chocolate biscuits myself.”

Jumping up, Fynna put her hands
together. “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?”

Hitching up her skirts in both
hands, Jessalyne grinned wickedly. “If I get to them first, I
will.” She took off running, Fynna close at her heels.

Panting as she ran into the room,
Fynna crashed onto her bed. “If I had my wings, you would still be
in the garden.”

“If I had used my magic, I could
have just blinked myself up here.”

Fynna sat up. “Really?”

Jessalyne grinned. “No. But it
sounded good, don’t you think?” She dodged a pillow as it flew past
her head.

“I think I will beat you in a game
of Fryst as soon as the tea is ready.” Fynna hopped up to fill the
kettle and hang it over the glowering coals.

“Well, you can try.” Jessalyne was
glad for the distraction and friendship Fynna provided. The pixie
deserved more than a few new tunics and some soft sheets for her
bed. She deserved her wings back.

Chapter
Thirteen

Prince Erebus posed before his
full-length looking glass while Sryka waited. He adjusted his white
silk tunic. A flurry of valets brushed imaginary lint from his
embroidered velvet cape and polished the sapphire-crusted buckles
on his goblin-skin boots. He twisted the waxed point of his dark
beard one more time before waving his staff away with one heavily
jeweled hand. “Out! All of you.”

Finally, the prat turned to face
Sryka. “You’re sure you can get my father to bless her?”

“I’ll find a way.” Sryka wished the
prince paid as much attention to the politics of state as he did to
his appearance.

“I still favor you casting a spell
to get him to bless Salena.” Erebus licked his lips. “She’s a very
willing wench and much to my taste.”

“We have been over this, your
highness. The Oath of Amity between the king and I makes that
impossible. The oath serves its purpose. It has always been that
way between king and mage. Besides, I have searched every grimoire
and tome I possess trying to find a way to break the oath. It
cannot be done.” Idiot. Sryka shifted her bones on the hard wooden
seat.

“Why don’t you bind the girl’s
powers now so I may bed her this evening?”

Sryka closed her eyes, willing
herself to stay calm. “She is not ready to have her powers bound.
Once you are wed, you may do as you wish with her. All in due time,
Erebus.”

* * *

Jessalyne and Fynna stood outside
the carved wooden doors of the prince’s chambers. Jessalyne took
several deep breaths, unready to walk through them yet.

“Remember, he needs you more than
you need him.” Fynna squeezed her friend’s hand.

Smiling weakly, Jessalyne nodded.
“Thank you.”

“Now go or we’ll both get into
trouble. Dinner by the pond?”

Knocking loudly on the heavy doors,
she whispered, “Dinner by the pond will be just what I
need.”

Fynna slipped away as Sryka’s voice
bid Jessalyne enter. Pushing the door wide, she did her best to
look calm and confident as she entered the Prince’s private
chambers. Sryka sat in a wide carved chair looking highly
uncomfortable. The prince stood opposite. Jessalyne dropped into a
curtsy as Sryka had instructed. “Your Highness. Mistress
Sryka.”

With difficulty, Sryka eased herself
out of the chair. “Lord Prince Erebus of Shaldar may I present my
apprentice, Jessalyne Brandborne of Fairleigh Grove.”

Clasping her hands in front of her,
Jessalyne kept her eyes focused down. She knew not to make eye
contact until spoken to.

“Jessalyne.” The prince spoke her
name like he was tasting a new food, testing it to see if it suited
him. “Welcome to my home. Are you enjoying your stay in my fair
kingdom?”

Jessalyne raised her head and looked
at the man speaking to her. He was almost the same height and his
dark, sparkling eyes reminded her of the water serpent. She
imagined he must fancy himself a great man to wear so many jewels
at once. “Yes, your lordship. Castle Ryght is a marvelous
place.”

Slowly, the prince circled her. She
felt like the last sweetcake on a platter set before a starving
man.

“Quite lovely.” His palm grazed her
backside as he walked behind her.

She gasped and almost started
forward but quickly steadied herself. Heat sparked in her belly.
She forced a civil response. “Thank you, your highness.”

“You look a touch fey. Have you any
impure blood in your line?” He came around to face her, making no
effort to hide his attempt to peer down her dress.

“No, your highness, I do not.” It
took great control to keep the rising anger out of her voice. “I
believe that would make me dark as night, not pale as
day.”

He raised one well-groomed eyebrow.
“So it would. But then, of course, you’d not have been suffered to
live.”

Leaning closer, black lust flickered
in his eyes as he scanned her figure, “And you are very much alive,
aren’t you?”

His words crawled over her skin,
making her want to retch. To her great relief, he turned his
attention to Sryka. “She will do.”

Jessalyne knew she should be happy
with the prince’s approval. It secured her position as
mage-apprentice. But the prince looked at her in a way that made
her feel worthless and ashamed to be a woman. For all his wicked
ways, Ertemis had never made her feel that way.

Sryka leaned to the side to see
around the prince. “You’re dismissed for the day, Jessalyne. You
will dine tonight in the great hall at the prince’s table. Tomorrow
your lessons start anew. That is all.”

Jessalyne curtsied again and ran to
find Fynna. The pixie had been right about how quickly it would be
over and how salacious the prince was. Did the women competing for
his hand actually think his behavior acceptable? Or worse,
appealing?

* * *

Fynna sat in the scullery, picking
stones out of the lentils. She glanced up as Jessalyne stormed in.
“Well? How was it?”

Jessalyne put a finger to her lips
and shook her head. “Cook, is there anything Fynna and I might have
for a picnic lunch?”

Kneading dough on the long table,
the rotund woman who ran the kitchen used her elbow to point across
the kitchen. “In the cold larder, there’s lots of pickles, all
kinds of breads and cheeses, vegetable cakes, honey braids...help
yerself, love. Fynna’s done a fair share of work in here today.
Sneak yerself a few of them chocolate cakes if ya want. They’re for
the prince’s tea but his royalness don’t really deserve
them.”

“Thank you.” Jessalyne took a basket
from a shelf and lined with a linen square before loading it with
goodies.

Fynna set the bowls of lentils down
and hung up her borrowed apron. “Thanks, cook.”

As soon as they were outside and out
of earshot, Fynna asked again. “Well, what happened?”

“The man disgusts me. He looked at
me like some kind of sweet to be eaten.” Jessalyne’s gait increased
the angrier she got.

Fynna jogged to keep up. “Really? I
didn’t think he would like you that much.”

Jessalyne shot Fynna a
look.

“You’re plenty likeable! Just not
what he usually goes after. For the love of Queen Menna, slow
down.”

Jessalyne halted, crunching gravel
under her slippers. “He ran his hand across my
backside!”

Just as Fynna stopped, Jessalyne
spun on her heel and started off again.

“What did Sryka say?” Fynna
panted.

“Nothing. She seems to have
forgotten how concerned she is with my chastity.”

“Well, he is the prince.”

“But she works for the king!”
Jessalyne set the basket down in the shade of the rowans but stayed
standing, her hands on her hips.

“Stupid old hag.” Fynna sat
cross-legged on the ground and began setting out their
lunch.

“He asked me if I had any fey
blood.”

She looked up. “He did?”

“Right before he tried to look down
my gown. Ugh. The man is a slug.” Jessalyne shuddered.

Fynna patted the ground next to her.
“Sit. It’s over. Tell me more about your dark elf while we
eat.”

“I know you’re trying to change the
subject.”

“Can you blame me? You’re talking
about my two least favorite people.”

“Is that also why you’re eating the
chocolate cakes first?” Jessalyne laughed.

“I didn’t think you noticed that.”
Fynna tried to hide half a cake in her small blue hand.

Jessalyne shook her head. “You’re
too much, Fynna...you make me laugh. Thank you.”

“If you want to thank me, tell me
about the kissing again.”