Heart of Fire (34 page)

Once inside, she knocked lightly on
Sir Laythan’s door. “Sir Laythan? It’s Jessalyne. Are you
awake?”

When he opened the door it was
obvious he had not yet retired for the evening. “My dear, I am so
sorry. There was nothing I could do.”

“May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside
then closed the door behind her. He motioned toward the chair by
the fire, bringing another chair from the desk.

As soon as he was seated, she began.
“The tonic is poison. Sryka is making it from the dust on Fynna’s
wings.”

His eyes went wide.

“You must stop giving it to the
king. Don’t tell Sryka, just send the steward to fetch it every
morning like you usually do. We cannot tip our hand yet until we
have some sort of plan.”

“A plan? What can we do? I am an old
man and you’re a mage apprentice.”

She smiled softly. “There’s much
I’ve kept hidden. Will you take me to the king? I believe I can
strip the poison from his body.”

“Do you really think there’s
anything you can do?”

“I can only try.”

He nodded. “Come with
me.”

* * *

Ertemis approached the castle gates
with caution. The guards would not be able to see him, but his
warrior instincts stayed wary for anything that might go wrong. Two
guards on either side of the barbican and two guards on either side
of the inner gate. Even for him, climbing the large iron gates
without making noise would be difficult. He couldn’t chance
it.

He crept along on the far side of
the main street in front of the castle entrance. The guards gave no
sign they sensed his presence. Further down, guards were stationed
at regular intervals along the parapet. He kept moving, studying
the walls. He ran his hand over the polished granite. It was as
slick as it looked.

There was no way he could scale
those walls without alerting the guards. He would have to use a
little magic and an ample portion of cunning.

Of the two guards on the outside,
one was a might stouter than the other. Ertemis slipped between the
guards, careful not to touch against the gates, lest the hinges
groan. Leaning toward the portly guard, Ertemis whispered into his
ear. “Had enough at supper, didn’t you, lard bottom?”

The guard jerked his head around at
stared at the man across from him. “What did you say?”

The other guard gave him an odd
glance. “I didn’t say a word.”

“I heard you!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

The stout guard turned back to his
post, tugging his tunic down.

Ertemis leaned in again. “I’ll wager
your shadow weighs more than I do.”

Again, the fat guard whipped around.
“I guess you didn’t say that either!”

“Said what?” The thin guard made a
face. “Maybe your ears are failing.”

“Or they’re stuffed with butter.”
Ertemis added softly in Turl’s ear.

“That’s enough, you weedy varlet. I
won’t stand for another word, Pieter.” Turl punctuated his
sentences by jabbing the air with his spiked lance.

“Weedy varlet? Is that the best you
can do, you suety barrel of pig innards?” Pieter narrowed his eyes
and planted his feet wide.

“Pig innards?” Turl’s face bloomed
bright red.

Turl dropped his lance and lunged at
Pieter. Ertemis stepped out of the way. As the two tussled, the
guards inside yelled for them to cease. It did no good. With much
swearing and name-calling, the two guards rolled around in front of
the gate, beating each other senseless.

Inside, the other two guards opened
the main gate to come to the aid of their fellows. Stepping around
the scuffle, Ertemis walked straight into the bailey.

* * *

Jessalyne followed Sir Laythan into
the king’s bedchambers. He drew back the heavy bed curtains first
and then the sheer inner ones.

“Should I wake him?” Sir Laythan
asked softly.

“No. Let him sleep. Just give me a
little room.” Jessalyne kept her voice low as well.

Laythan backed away. “Do you need
more light?”

She shook her head. “The candle is
sufficient.” The king looked ill even as he slept. His skin was
almost grey and Jessalyne suspected a few more days of the tonic
might finish him. Turning back, she gave Laythan a reassuring
smile.

She rested one hand lightly on the
king’s forehead and another over his heart, slowly shutting out
everything around her. She tried to sense the poison, tried to feel
for it with her mind before she drew it into herself.

Eyes closed, she envisioned the
king’s body as whole. In her mind, she saw dark oily patches rise
to the surface of his skin. Her whole body tingled. She snatched
the first of the dark stains away. It burned her skin like acid.
She called more fire for strength. Over and over, she plucked the
caustic stains and fed them to the fire inside her, wincing as they
gnawed into her flesh.

Laythan gasped. She opened her eyes.
Blue fire washed her hands and arms.

When the stains were gone, she
searched for anything else ailing him but found nothing. She
directed the healing heat into the king before taking her hands
away.

Her head spun and dark spots clouded
her vision. The poison’s magic had taken its toll. She slumped into
a chair near the bed, exhausted and panting.

Laythan went to the king’s side,
staring in astonishment. He shook his head. “How...I...thank you.”
Concern bent his mouth. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine after some
rest. How is his highness?”

“He looks utterly restored. He’s
still sleeping, but I imagine he’ll be much improved come morning.”
Tears glimmered in his eyes. “I doubted you. I’m sorry. I won’t
make that mistake twice. You have my word.”

“I’ve hidden this power from Sryka
and I would like to keep it that way.”

“What’s one more secret?”

At that they both smiled. Laythan
offered her his arm and helped her out. He shut the door quietly
behind them. “We have more to discuss.”

“We do, but I’m shattered. Can it
wait until tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow is time enough.
Thank you again.”

* * *

Ertemis hugged the walls as he slunk
into the great hall. The fires had burned down to glowing ember
beds. People snored beside the hearths. He inhaled the scent of
strong drink. Good. A man in his cups slept well.

One of wolfhounds dozing by the
fireplaces raised its head. The dog looked directly at Ertemis. Its
great black nose worked the air. He held his breath. At last, the
animal lay its head back down.

He honed in on Jessalyne’s heart
rhythm, moving toward the stairs on the far side of the hall. Back
flat to the wall to avoid anyone coming or going, he made his way
up.

* * *

Jessalyne bid the king’s guards
goodnight and set off through the maze of passages. She hadn’t had
dinner, and as tired as she was, her grumbling stomach wasn’t going
to let her sleep until she ate something. She changed course and
took the back hall to the servant’s entrance into the
scullery.

Lost in a swirl of thoughts, she
walked blindly. What would happen when Sryka learned the king had
been healed? And when the king learned what his son and his mage
were up to? A strand of hair dangled before her eyes and as she
tucked it behind her ear, she collided with a dark
figure.

A small platter of chocolate
biscuits and gingerbread clattered to the floor. She bent to
retrieve them. “Pardon me, I wasn’t looking where I
was—”

“Let them be. The future queen of
Shaldar should not scuttle around the floor like a
maid.”

She held her breath. The biscuits
were scattered around a pair of goblin skin boots with jeweled
buckles. No, not now. She had neither the strength nor the desire
to deal with the prince. Straightening, she met his gaze. “And yet
you fetch them from the pantry yourself, your highness?”

“I am not coming from the pantry,
although where I am coming from is none of your business.” He moved
toward her. She stepped back.

She could smell perfume on him and
judging by how poorly he had redressed himself, she knew Fynna’s
guess had been correct. Fresh anger over the night’s events welled
up. “So kind of Salena to give you her leftovers.”

Amusement warmed the prince’s cold
stare. “Jealousy becomes you. I’m pleased to know you have some
spirit after all.”

He took another step toward her and
she backed into a wall.

“I hope to see that spark when I bed
you.” He put a hand on either side of her, pining her to the stone.
“I’m so used to Salena’s fiery disposition, a cold fish would bore
me to tears.”

“Then keep her in your bed.”
Jessalyne ducked under his arm but he shoved her back.

“I plan to, but I can have Salena
anytime I choose. Innocent flesh is much rarer.” He leaned in, lips
puckering.

Jessalyne pressed her hands against
his chest and twisted her face away. Erebus’s tongue slicked the
side of her neck. She gagged. Anger and disgust boiled up insider
her, desperate for a way out.

* * *

Ertemis rounded the corner and found
Jessalyne in the arms of another man. Wounded, he stumbled back. He
was too late. And if that was the way her tastes ran now, she
definitely wouldn’t want him.

With a scowl of disgust, she pushed
the man away. Not her lover after all. The man lunged at her and
Ertemis’s relief faded. Jessalyne’s assailant laughed at her
attempt to stop him and roughly pawed her breast. She
yelped.

Rage overtook Ertemis. No one hurt
Jessalyne. Still cloaked in magic, he grabbed the man’s collar and
yanked him back at the same time she shoved.

Jessalyne looked at her hands in
surprise as if she hadn’t known she possessed such
strength.

The assailant slumped against the
wall, rubbing the back of his head where he’d smacked the stone.
“Pasty wench. How dare you deny me? How dare you lay hands on me? I
swear, you will not survive this kingdom long when your usefulness
is up.” Who was this weasel?

She flung her palms toward him,
fingers curled up around blistering balls of flame. The man
flinched. Good. She stared him directly in the eyes and spoke in a
slow, deliberate voice. “If you ever touch me again, I will show
you my true fiery disposition.”

Ertemis grinned. She’d been
practicing. Her refusal to back down made him proud. How could he
not love a woman this fierce?

The man swore and backed away.
“Witchspawn,” he whispered, his gaze lingering on the flames she
held. He whimpered and took off down the passage. She doused the
fireballs as soon as he was out of sight.

“Well done,” Ertemis
whispered.

She spun around, hands up. “Who’s
there?”

Ertemis pushed the hood of his cloak
back and dropped his enchantment. “You called and I
came.”

Her hands fell to her sides as her
mouth dropped. “Are you real?”

He could wait no longer to touch
her. He gathered her into his arms. Her soft curves and warm skin
against him felt like coming home. “You tell me, lelaya.” He
pressed her closer and inhaled her scent. “Do I feel
real?”

She nodded. “Oh yes...very real.”
Her eyes blazed as she pulled away and jerked her hand back, her
open palm flying toward his face.

He caught her wrist inches before
she struck his cheek. “What the devil is that for? You called
me!”

She wrenched her hand out of his
grasp. “I’ve been calling you for a month. You just show up now and
expect me to thank you? Why don’t you just go back to whatever
alehouse you crawled out of?”

Heat radiated off her in waves,
warming the passage uncomfortably.

“Jessalyne, I can
explain...”

She grabbed his tunic and pulled him
close, sniffing him. “You don’t have to. I can smell her.” She
glared at him and swallowed hard. “Get away from me. I don’t ever
want to see you again.”

Chapter
Eighteen

He inhaled. The chain holding his
mother’s ring was steeped with her perfume and the warmth of the
passage was releasing the scent. “You have no idea what you’re
talking about, Jessalyne. The woman you smell is my lady
mother.”

The air cooled as Jessalyne’s
disposition calmed. She narrowed her eyes, unsure. “You went to see
your mother?”

“Aye. In Elysium.” He watched her
face softened and realized that he desired her just as much when
she was angry as when she was not.

“You visited with her for a
month?”

“Nay, I was in Elysium for less than
a day. When I stepped foot on mortal soil again, a month had
passed. Time on Elysium is as meaningless as money in Fairleigh
Grove.” He took a step closer. “Believe me, I came as soon as I
heard your call.”