The Fire Lord's Lover - 1 (14 page)

   The dragon stretched one black leathery wing, the tip of it grazing the general's shoulder, propelling him head over heels across the stone floor. Dominic flipped to his feet, shaking the hair from his face.

   "When you were a child," Ador rumbled, "you forged a connection to the black scepter."

   Dominic felt like he might still be tumbling. What was the dragon talking about? Yes, he'd touched the magical talisman, a forbidden thing he'd never mentioned to anyone. And whenever he'd looked at the scepter after that, he'd felt… odd. But he'd never even mentioned this to Ador.

   "What does that mean?"

   Ador opened his scaly lids, his eyes gleaming in the night, seeming to wash Dominic with a haze of their red color. "We were created from the scepters and still retain a link to them. They are more powerful than you humans have guessed and they have a will of their own."

   The general struggled to grasp the dragon's words. "Are you saying the scepters are somehow alive?"

   "Not like you and I. But aware, elven lord's son. And likely to destroy anyone who dares to wield them who is not of full elven blood. And yet it allowed you to touch it."

   "Why?"

   The red light faded as the dragon closed his eyes. "I don't know why it chose to protect you or to hide your growing magic of black fire from the mad elf."

   Dominic stilled. It couldn't be. He'd thought he'd imagined the black fire magic within him. Thought it wishful thinking. A fantasy to stop his father's torture. "But… damn you! Do you mean to tell me I have had enough magic to be sent to Elfhame and—"

   Ador snorted, a burst of red flame that washed the stones an ugly pink. "You foolish bastard. Do you really believe that's where the madman sends those who threaten his reign?"

   Dominic's anger turned cold and his mind began to work at a frightening speed, the way it did on the battlefield when faced with a new strategy from his enemy. "If I believe these confidences you're suddenly willing to share with me… then I can see how it would be easier for the elven lords to have the children brought to them for the trials, to weed out any half-breeds who may have inherited enough power to threaten the Imperial Lords' sovereignty. That's if I believe what you're telling me."

If
the talisman indeed had some kind of awareness—some power greater than his father's—it made sense, for he'd touched the scepter before his first trial. Magical gifts revealed themselves at puberty, but they could grow over time. The reason that his father kept his nobles close. But anyone possessing the higher gifts—like that of black fire—would be sent to Elfhame. But such children were rare; perhaps one in a thousand of those possessing elven blood were born with the powers to become a chosen one.

   The general closed his eyes, unwilling to believe this but trying to remember. Had he touched the scepter through sheer accident or had he been impelled to do so? Damn, he did not like this feeling of being a pawn in some game he did not understand. He slowly opened his lids and narrowed his eyes at the black snout and unreadable features of the dragon. "Why are you telling me this now?"

   "Because soon—ah but not yet—your powers will grow strong enough to challenge the madman, and you need to know the truth." Ador yawned, as if he hadn't voiced words that could change lives. "That is, if you survive long enough. But if you manage it and succeed in the coming battle, the scepter is one step closer to returning home… although it will be long and long before the gate to Elfhame can truly be opened."

   Ah. Dominic caught a glimmer of understanding. So the dragon thought to use his human weakness just as his father did. Ador offered him the bait that Dominic did indeed have the power to protect Cassandra. But to what purpose? How could he discern the truth?

   "Prove it."

   "You humans are tiresome, half-elven or no," responded Ador, eyes still closed. "Very well, then. Your powers have at least grown strong enough to dispel the wards on Mor'ded's supposed door to Elfhame. The mad elf leaves the palace on the morrow. Go see for yourself."

   Dominic rubbed his brow. Could it be possible Ador spoke the truth? The thought that he might have the power to protect Cassandra filled him with a savage elation. But it was tempered by the worry of what he might find behind that heavy oak door. It made him wish his wife had never awakened his human feelings again, and he stood for a time, staring at the stars in the cold night sky.

   Ador finally succumbed to sleep, his rumbling snores shivering the stones beneath Dominic's boots.

Eight

Cass woke the next morning still in her golden gown of the night before. A haze of silver powder covered her pillow and memories came rushing back. She pulled open the curtains surrounding the bed, not surprised to find herself alone. Of course he had not returned.

   She rang for Gwendolyn and May, and they helped her perform her toilette while her thoughts spun with the events of the evening. It had been so grand to see Thomas again, looking so handsome in the latest mode of dress. Faith, he played the part of a mindless coxcomb even better than he'd played a priest.

   "How about this one, my ladyship?" asked Gwen, holding out a fine wool mantua.

   Cass sighed. She might as well give up on insisting that Gwendolyn choose the plainer pieces in her wardrobe. The girl had such a flair for the dramatic. And last night… yes, the general had certainly appreciated the way she'd looked. His face, as usual, hadn't revealed a thing, but she'd felt him staring at her far too long.

"It's not quite appropriate for a walk on the grounds."

Gwen's face fell.

   "But I suppose if you pin up the train, it shall suffice."

   The girl nodded with enthusiasm and chose a soft leather girdle tooled with fanciful flying horses to belt the burgundy gown. She dithered over the choice of stays for they would show through the open bodice, but finally settled on an embroidered stomacher to cover it, heavily inlaid with garnet stones.

   May had almost finished brushing the powder from her hair, and Cass closed her eyes at the heavenly feel of the older girl's gentle strokes. How would she find her husband today? She didn't know what to expect after his show of jealousy last eve. Her eyes flew open and stared at her reflection in the dressing mirror. Had he indeed been jealous? He'd certainly acted like it, and if she'd had any doubts, their whispered argument proved it. And when she'd asked him about his dog his voice had shaken with emotion. Only a man with a human heart could care for his pet the way Dominic had. But why had he left her bed and not returned? He had not finished telling her about Mongrel. How could she gain his trust when his actions were always so at odds with his feelings?

   For she felt convinced that despite his elven blood, he had feelings just like any other human. He'd just become exceptionally skilled at hiding them. She could understand why, when he had such a horrid father.

   May began to weave her hair, an intricate twining that Cass's eyes couldn't follow. Her new servants would never spy on her and if they did happen to overhear something, she did not doubt their loyalty. She wondered who would be interested in spying on the general. And then she flushed. Little did he know he harbored a spy in his very bed.

   May positioned a pinner on her head with long lace lappets, and Gwen helped her into her mantua, the burgundy wool so finely combed it felt like velvet against her skin. The girdle unbuckled in front, and it made Cassandra feel much more confident as she left her apartments. The belt would make a fine garrote.

   She intended to go for a walk about the grounds to consider her own feelings for her husband. Cass rejoiced that Dominic had shown jealousy over Thomas, for her goal had been to make her husband regard her enough to trust her. But did his possessiveness truly mean he cared for her?

   For she cared for him. Despite knowing how foolish it would be, she might even have fallen in love with him. General Dominic Raikes had allowed her to glimpse his true heart once too often. And Cass hadn't been prepared for the beauty of it.

   Consumed by her thoughts, still unfamiliar with the sprawling palace, Lady Cassandra soon managed to get lost.

   A long hallway stretched before her, medieval armor flanking the walls as far as she could see, a glow of green fire within every faceplate, emanating through the links in the chain mail. Cass took a step into the hall and suddenly the armor came to attention, spears lifting and swords saluting. Her heart flew up into her throat and she froze.

   A profound sense of relief swept through her at the sound of voices behind her. She whirled and went back the way she'd come, slowing as a couple approached her.

   "Lady Cassandra," said Lady Verney. "How good to see you again." She nodded at her companion. "Have you met Sir Robert Walpole?"

   The heavy man bowed his wigged head. "We haven't had the pleasure, my lady. But having met her husband, I have been looking forward to it." He looked quite somber in his gray coat next to Sophia's peacock-colored gown.

   Cassandra dipped a quick curtsy, her eyes on the leader of the Rebellion. Had she heard something within his words? Her heart still fluttered with excitement. "I'm honored to make your acquaintance, sir. I got lost again, you see."

   Lady Verney raised her elegant brows. "There are some rooms it's not wise to enter, Cassandra. You must allow me to show you a map of the palace. If I had known your servants failed to give you such instruction…"

   Cass flushed, wondering if Sophia was truly unaware that she had hired slaves and not some of the castle staff.

   "Capital idea," agreed Sir Robert. "Although I must say, we might not have had the pleasure of crossing paths today so fortuitously. But now that we have you must join us for tea, my dear."

   He held out his arm and Cass took it without hesitation. She hadn't thought she'd have a chance to talk with him this soon. Perhaps they could find a moment to speak in private.

   Her hopes were dashed as they entered a cozy parlor, nearly filled to bursting with the king's court. Some worked on their embroidery near the windows, taking advantage of the sunlight and the constant glow from the yellow fire outside the walls. Several tea trays lay scattered about the room, chairs clustered around them. The parlor lacked any magical enhancements and Cass wondered if that's why the court had chosen this small space.

   Sophia and Sir Robert led her to an empty table, but it soon filled up with gentlemen and ladies. Most of them sent her glances of curiosity but Cassandra made herself as small as possible and managed to fade a bit into the background.

   "The
other court," commented a gentleman with
a striped red coat, "is woefully in need of our guidance. Did you see what they wore to the ball last night?"

   Another gentleman took a pinch of snuff. "I daresay they haven't the slightest idea that solid colors are not the mode. But don't worry; we'll set them to rights."

   Lady Verney stiffened in her chair, teacup poised near her thin lips. "Although solids are not the rage, I heard that King George complimented General Raikes on the cut of his suit."

   "That bastard could wear a gunnysack and manage to carry it off," replied the gentleman, then glanced at Cass and flushed. "Begging your pardon, my lady. But it's what they all call him."

   Cass shrugged as if unperturbed but caught the sharp look from Sir Robert. As the conversation continued in a similar vein, mind-numbing in its inanity, she watched the leader of the Rebellion as he watched the others in the room. He listened more than he spoke, and at one point he got up and left, and Cassandra would have followed him but decided it would look odd. Instead she waited, hoping he would return and that the room might have cleared by then. But the nobles appeared to be engrossed in their conversations, speculating if black would be in and how their wigs would look with braids added to them.

   She grinned as she imagined what Dominic would say about being an inspiration for fashion.

   She'd just decided to leave when Sir Robert returned, a fold of paper in his hand. "Please accept this map, Lady Cassandra. It would be wise for you to know your whereabouts." This time she felt certain of the hidden meaning in his words.

   "Oh," gasped Sophia, "it slipped my mind. I do have one in my room and will be happy to fetch it—"

   "You do not need to trouble yourself," protested Sir Robert. "I have already memorized mine, so it's no longer needed."

   Sophia appeared taken aback by this. "Good heavens, there are so many twists and turns I can't imagine ever knowing them all."

   Sir Robert shrugged. "I've been trained to such tasks, your ladyship. It's not as difficult as it sounds."

   His intense eyes stayed focused on Cass and she nodded, accepting the map from his hand. She would memorize it at once. She rose. "If you will excuse me, I think I shall take a turn about the grounds."

   Lady Verney squinted up at her. "I could use a bit of fresh air myself. Sir Robert?"

   A commotion at the door made them all turn to see the king enter the small parlor. Sir Robert inclined his head regretfully. "Alas, but you'll have to excuse me. Duty calls."

   Cassandra's heart sank. She had so hoped to speak with Sir Robert to see if he could help her puzzle out the mystery of her husband. Lady Verney rose and took Cass's arm and led her from the room, down several hallways and through some interesting formal rooms, until they reached a pair of doors that opened onto a garden.

   Both she and Sophia took in deep breaths of the fresh air, and Cass reminded herself she should not look for help from anyone. Thomas had warned her she was on her own and if Sir Robert truly wished to speak to her he would find a way to do so.

   Lady Verney giggled. "I think I owe you an apology. They are quite… set in their ways, are they not?"

   Cassandra smiled. "It's beyond me how they can spend so much time discussing fashion. But I suppose that's all they're accustomed to doing."

   "Indeed." Sophia frowned, seemingly as saddened by that fact as Cass. They walked along a white gravel path, the stones sparkling in the sunlight. A profusion of late-blooming flowers surrounded them, their scents combining into a heady perfume. Ahead of them flowed a fountain of yellow fire, the flames arcing out from a center column and spilling into the surrounding bowl.

   "I had hoped," continued Sophia, "that the king's court would be more welcoming toward you than Mor'ded's. Lady Agnes hasn't had the opportunity to influence them as yet."

   Cassandra stared up at her tall friend. She hadn't realized… well, it had been very kind of her. But how could she explain it didn't quite matter? "Thank you, Sophia. They
were
much more welcoming."

   Her friend smiled a bit. "I suppose it will always be hard for you, being married to the champion and all."

   They had reached the fountain and Cass leaned forward, allowing the yellow fire to wash over her hands, trickle through her fingers. "Like the fire on the palace walls; it's gently warm and yet doesn't burn. I think it's been harder for me to adjust to the wealth of magic."

   "You'll get used to that. When I first arrived, I dreamed of fire every night and thought I'd wither from the heat. I should probably freeze if I lived anywhere else now."

    Lady Cassandra looked up at the flaming walls of the palace and nodded. "I suppose one can get used to anything."

   They walked the grounds for a time, idly talking. Cass occasionally brought up a question about the elven lord, but although Sophia had been surrounded by fire magic for many years, she knew little about the Imperial Lord himself. It seemed Dominic knew more about Mor'ded than anyone else at court.

   And Cassandra couldn't be sure of ever getting her husband to trust her enough to share that knowledge.

   "I'm sorry, Lady Cassandra. I must return to the palace for a fitting. Will you accompany me?"

   They stood amid a hedge of bushes cut into swirling cones. Cass couldn't quite bring herself to return to the palace yet. "Do not worry, Lady Verney. I have the map Sir Robert gave me. I shall find my way back to the palace without getting lost."

   Sophia patted her hand. "That's good, then. But remember; do not enter the shaded areas. They are places of strange magics." She frowned at Cass. "Perhaps I should show you."

   Cassandra sighed. She'd never had a friend before to worry about her and couldn't decide whether she liked it or not. She removed the folded map from her skirt and opened it. A small sliver of paper fell from inside onto the clipped lawn, and she glanced quickly at Sophia to see if she had noticed. But the other woman had pulled the watch on her neck chain up to her face to squint at the numbers. Cass placed her foot over the paper and studied the map.

   Nearly two-thirds of the palace interior and a third of the outside grounds had been shaded with wavy lines.

   Lady Verney pointed at them. "These are the places to avoid. Now, this is where we are, see? There are three palace layouts, to show you each floor, and these are the stairs that will take you to each. Are you sure you can devise the sense of it?"

   Cassandra had studied maps much more complicated than this one. "I shall manage, Lady Verney, never fear."

   The taller woman took a step down the path. "I really must go. But perhaps next time you should take one of your servants with you for guidance. And for propriety's sake, of course."

   "Of course."

   Cass watched her gather up her peacock-colored skirts and hurry down the path. The moment she rounded a corner, Cassandra removed her foot from the paper and picked it up, reading it quickly before stuffing it into her mouth and chewing with a grimace. Feeling a bit like a goose, but unable to think of a ladylike way to dispose of it, she swallowed with a gulp. And then pondered Sir Robert's hastily scrawled note.

Your husband may be sympathetic to our cause. He hates his father.

   Could it be possible? Could Dominic be capable of such a strong emotion? Apparently Sir Robert had noticed the undercurrents between Dominic and his father and come to that startling conclusion. She didn't know how he could be sure when she hadn't been able to understand their relationship herself. The elven did not act by human standards. And did Sir Robert really think that would be enough to sway Dominic to their cause? Just because the general held no love for his father didn't mean he would aid the Rebellion in having Mor'ded deposed. And what did Sir Robert expect her to do with the information?