The Fire Lord's Lover - 1 (29 page)

   And she'd had just about enough. Cass spun, twisting her hair even tighter, and struck out with her fists, catching Mor'ded in the gut. To her satisfaction she heard him gasp, but then his big hand closed around her throat and she clutched at his fingers, trying to pry them off.

   "This is the last time I will say it, Father. Let her go."

   Cass saw starbursts as Mor'ded slowly squeezed. She could almost
feel
Dominic gather his magic. Whether the scepter had released the black fire that he'd held inside of him or just enhanced that trickle to a powerful strength, what blazed forth from the scepter far surpassed anything she'd ever seen Mor'ded command.

   She felt the magic enter the Imperial Lord, his fingers twitching about her throat from the force of it. Then his hold loosened and she twisted from his grasp, fighting for breath and rubbing at her bruised neck. Unlike Mor'ded, who'd used the black fire in a slow release that prolonged pain, Dominic had thrown one powerful burst of magic at his father.

   The elven lord did not suffer when he died.

Seventeen

Dominic stared at his father's body but a moment, then called forth a narrow stream of red magic, until nothing was left of the elven lord but a small pile of ash.

   "Are you all right?" he asked Cassandra as he went to her side.

   She opened her mouth to reply and then winced, rubbing at her throat. He called forth blue fire, still surprised at how easily the magic now responded to his will. The flame caressed his wife's throat and she smiled with relief.

   Dominic gathered her into his arms, trying not to crush her. He had saved her. Despite all odds, he had managed to save the most precious thing in the world to him.

   "I love you," he said, holding her from him and staring into those soft brown eyes.

   "And I love you."

   Dominic smiled at her, fighting the stiffness of his lips. He supposed he would have to get used to that expression now. She managed to call the reaction from him entirely too often. He lowered his head and kissed her, wanting to feel that connection that flared to life whenever their lips met. He lost himself in the feel of her for a time but eventually pulled away, knowing he could not indulge himself for long.

   How would he continue to keep her safe?

   He glanced over at his father's ashes. "What have I done?"

   "You have saved the people of London from a tyrant, Dominic. He might have fathered you, but don't feel guilty for doing what you had to do."

   "You don't understand." Any human feeling he might have left for the man had died the moment Mor'ded had hurt her. "I have just placed your life, and those of the people of Firehame, in even more danger. Once the remaining elven lords discover that fact, they will turn their combined fury upon our sovereignty. And the power of one scepter wielded by a half-breed against the might of six—"

   Dominic spun when the balcony doors blew open with a gust of wind that couldn't be natural. He swept Cass behind him and raised his arms. A long black snout pushed into the room, red eyes blinking from the pile of ash to the scepter within Dominic's hands.

   "Quickly," Ador said. "Change your clothing."

   Had the dragon gone mad? "What, why?"

   Those huge red orbs turned to his wife. "Through that door, yes, I knew you would be quick on your feet. Any coat will do, yes, the black velvet, plenty of lace, as Mor'ded prefers."

   Cassandra returned to Dominic's side, holding out one of his father's more elaborate coats. He found himself stripping off his uniform and shrugging into the clothing without thought.

   "Devil take you, Ador. Why am I putting this on?"

   The dragon snorted with impatience, a gust of sulfur-tinted air that made Cass wrinkle her nose. "
They
felt the change in the magic barrier, bastard. You'll need to talk to them."

   The dragon had gone mad. "What for? To beg the elven lords for mercy? I'm done with that—not that it would make a difference, mind."

   "Do I have to explain everything?"

   "You needn't bother with your help now. Where were you a few moments ago?"

   "Stop it," snapped Lady Cassandra.

   They both turned their gaze on the exasperated woman.

   Ador sighed. "That was your battle to fight, fire lord. And now that you've proven worthy, I am free to help you."

   Dominic crossed his arms over his chest, the scepter tucked within the velvet. "Damn. What good will it to do speak with the elven lords? And how do I manage that anyway?"

   Ador backed his snout halfway out of the room, extended one long claw inside, and tapped the crystal rock that sat next to the door. "The Imperial Lady La'laylia made this stone for the elven lords to communicate with one another. Did you think we dragons flew back and forth between sovereignties as messengers?"

   Dominic stepped forward, studying the translucent stone. He'd often seen his father place his scepter within the cavity on the top of it, but he'd just assumed he'd kept it there for safety. That it protected the scepter somehow.

   "What did you mean," said Cassandra, "when you said the elven lords felt a change in the barrier?"

   "The scepters are united to maintain the magical barrier around England, and they are tied to the magic of the elven lord who wields each one. When the bastard used it, his magic infused the rod and changed the protection."

   Dominic frowned. "Weakened it, you mean?"

   "Ah no. Do not underestimate yourself, fire lord. Your power is a match for your father's, but your human blood taints it enough to make it slightly different. The elven lords felt the switch."

   The general erased all expression from his face. It was time to call on his skills of war. "So I try to negotiate with them?"

   The sound of stone grating on stone as something akin to a laugh sprang from Ador's throat. "You can't negotiate with the mad ones. No, my dear bastard. You will convince them that you are your father."

   "I will… what?" Dominic felt Cass's arm on his sleeve, and he turned to look down at her beautiful face. Her soft brown hair hung in straggles about her cheeks from Mor'ded's yanking out her coiffure, and he could not help but reach out and smooth it back. Her skin felt like the softest of rose petals.

   "You do look enough like him to manage it," she said. "It might work, love."

   A slim hope, but hope nonetheless. Perhaps Cassandra's God had indeed found a way to allow him to continue to protect her. To allow him to love her until they grew old and content, dangling their grandchildren on their knees. Grandchildren who would never be sent to Mor'ded's version of Elfhame.

   "How do you make it speak to the other lords?" he asked, touching the cold smooth stone.

   "Place the scepter in the hole at the top, yes; allow it to slide all the way down into the groove. Lady Cassandra, please step back. Farther. We do not want you within the range of the farseeing. They will be suspicious enough as it is without wondering why Mor'ded allows a human to stand by his side. Good. Now look closer at the stone, fire lord."

   "Quit calling me that."

   "As you wish. Bastard, it is."

   Dominic refused to rise to the dragon's needling. In an odd way, he felt grateful for it. Annoyance masked his fear. If he failed to convince the lords that he was his father, he would doom all of Firehame. And although he looked a great deal like Mor'ded, he was ten years younger and had a more muscular build from his years of warfare. And he did have a human heart; Cass had finally convinced him of that. If he allowed a flicker of it to show in his face or voice…

   Dominic took a deep breath. Hadn't he spent his entire life masking his humanity? He could do this. He had to.

   With the scepter within the stone, Dominic could make out odd carvings on the face of the gem that didn't look like natural striations. Like the door on Father's chamber, a map had been carved in the surface, a small map that looked like the spokes of a wheel with a very distorted outline. He recognized each section and recalled the name of the elven lord who ruled the sovereignty.

   Ador had been watching him carefully. "First you must press the piece that represents your sovereignty, Imperial Lord Mor'ded."

   Dominic winced at the name but knew he would just have to get used to it. Better the dragon reminded him of this now.

   "This will open the vision of you," continued Ador, "and allow you to call up visions of the other elven lords… if they have done the same."

   Dominic pressed Firehame on the map, and immediately all the other sovereignties lit up in their respective colors. Blue for Dewhame, green for Verdanthame, gold for Dreamhame, silver for Bladehame, brown for Terrahame, violet for Stonehame.

   "As you can see," murmured the dragon, "they are all demanding to speak with you."

   "Which one first?"

   "Mm. Dewhame, I think. Breden is close enough to send his dragon if he doesn't hear from you soon."

   Dominic nodded and pressed the blue piece on the map. Immediately an image of the Imperial Lord appeared within the translucent surface of the stone, his silver-white hair hanging damply against his head, a spray of mist curling about his shoulders.

   "Mor'ded," snapped Breden. "Why the hell are you messing with the barrier?"

   Dominic narrowed his eyes, smoothing his face to calm. He should have thought of a likely excuse before he'd started the farseeing, but hell, he was used to thinking on his feet. And it would do him good to outwit Breden. He would not forget that the Imperial Lord had kidnapped his wife.

   "You are overreacting," replied Dominic, tilting his head in imitation of his father when he spoke to an irrational human. "I had to draw on the scepter's powers to take care of a difficult problem. There may have been a… slight resonance in the scepter."

   The warped vision of Breden's face stiffened to a mask of indignant arrogance. "What problem?"

   His father would never divulge any weakness. "That's not your concern. I have taken care of it— that's all you need know."

   "Several delightful possibilities come to mind," said Breden, his right hand idly toying with a ball of water. "I had a bastard girl worthy of Elfhame slip through my fingers, and it's rumored that she hid in Firehame."

   Dominic didn't blink.

   "And then there's that champion of yours—did he overreach himself, Mor'ded?"

   "As I said, the problem has been taken care of. And I have several other elven lords waiting to speak with me, Breden." The storm lord laughed, crushing the ball in his hand, water spraying between his fingers. Dominic reached over and pressed the blue area of crystal, breaking the connection. He looked over in amazement at Ador. "He believed me. He thinks I am my father."

   The dragon snorted, puffs of gray smoke swirling from his nostrils. "Of course. People see what they expect to see—even elven lords."

   With a bit more confidence, Dominic pressed the violet portion of the map, and the elven lady of Stonehame flickered into view. "What is it, La'laylia?"

   The painfully beautiful woman in the crystal frowned at him. "You interrupted my… pleasure, Mor'ded."

   "My apologies. It will not happen again."

   She leaned forward, revealing a generous bosom barely concealed by a bodice of netted diamonds. Large violet eyes glittered with as much brilliance as the stones she wore. "You know better than to interrupt the feed to the barrier. Perhaps you sought to garner my attention?"

   Had his father and La'laylia once been lovers? Were they now? Dominic could only guess and chose to follow the elven lady's lead. "Perhaps."

   She smiled, revealing even white teeth, except for two rather pointed canines at the corners of her fulllipped mouth. She held up an odd-shaped gem, with too many honed edges for Dominic's taste. "You are looking exceptionally… healthy. Bored, my pet?"

   Dominic cocked a brow, hoping to look arrogant while hiding his alarm that La'laylia had noticed his youth. "Not yet enough to taste the pleasures of your bed, La'laylia. Just seeing your loveliness will have to sustain me."

   She laughed, low and sultry, making Dominic swallow hard in reaction.

   "Ah well. When you can withstand the sharper pleasures, my lord, I will be pleased to provide them. In the meantime, I will have to amuse myself with the humans." And with that, her vision faded from the crystal.

   Dominic breathed a sigh of relief. And then spoke with Mi'cal of the green scepter, Roden of the gold, Lan'dor of the silver. None of the elven lords seemed to even suspect he wasn't Mor'ded. And the elven lady Annanor of the brown scepter did not appear to care. Unlike La'laylia, she only radiated a strong distaste for Dominic's father, quickly closing their connection once he reassured her that nothing threatened the power of their rule.

   Dominic straightened his back, stretched his arms and shoulders, relieving the tension in his muscles. Faith, he'd grown used to having men's lives depend upon him in the battlefield. But having to perform this sort of subterfuge, with thousands of innocent lives hanging in the balance, was a different sort of game. He supposed he would have to get used to it.

   "But for how long?" he wondered aloud. "How long before I am found out?"

   "The elven lords rarely meet in person anymore," said Ador. "With the exception of La'laylia, who craves the pleasure of a challenge in her bed. If you do not disturb the power of the scepter again, they will not suspect you."

   "They have spies, Ador. Father has several of his own within the courts of all the sovereignties. The elven lords love rumor and gossip."

   "Ah well. Unless they have a specific reason to believe such an improbable story, they will dismiss the rumors. You must move carefully, fire lord. Do not think that this will be easy."

   Dominic backed into the room as Ador took wing, the blast of air making his father's coat—no,
his
coat—flap wildly about his waist. When had his life ever been easy? And why would he expect it to be any different now?

   He brushed his hands across the velvet and frowned. He disliked the dramatically flared skirts of his father's coats, the excessive ornamentation and flamboyant colors. But he supposed it would be a minor thing to get used to, compared to the enormity of the task that awaited him. Dominic strode back to the crystal and removed the black rod from within it, feeling the hum of the scepter's magic vibrate all the way down to his boots.

   How much magic would he now be capable of wielding? He thought of the black swath burned straight through the heart of London and resisted the urge to fling the scepter from him. Would the power turn him into another version of his father? Would he become so consumed with the glory of it that his humanity would again be hidden from him?

   No. For he had Cassandra. He had her faith and her goodness to guide him. She'd become more than a lover, more than a friend. She guided his conscience in all things; for he'd abandoned his so long ago he could no longer be sure of right and wrong. He hadn't realized he'd led only half a life until he fell in love with her. She completed him.