The Lady of the Storm - 2 (25 page)

Cecily shivered.

“Cease, love,” said Cassandra.

The elven lord blinked, and the smoke faded, and he slammed the thing back in its sheath.

“But how do you know I have enough?”

“Remember, Cecily. I was with you the night we fled Firehame Palace.” Lady Cassandra gave her a gentle smile. “I saw the strength of your gifts. Only the Imperial Lord of Dewhame has the power of sea
and
sky… even his champion, General Owen Fletcher, can command only the waters of earth.”

“Besides,” interjected Sir Robert, “we aren’t asking you to actually use the thing. Only to bring it to us.”

Cecily stared at him in astonishment. Ah, well,
that
makes it so much better. She glanced over to the shadows, hoping that Giles would interfere, as he had before. That he would insist the task was too dangerous for her. His silence only made it clear he had severed any ties to her. Emotionally as well as physically.

And Cecily had vowed to make her father proud of her. Had decided to help England in whatever way she could. Just because she discovered she didn’t like the manner in which she would serve, was no reason for her to go back into hiding. She quickly dispersed a brief vision of a little cottage on a hill by the sea.

She lifted her chin. “Let me make sure I understand. I assume you want me to steal my birth father’s scepter, since each one is attuned to the elven lord’s magic, and perhaps I will have a chance of touching Breden’s scepter without it completely annihilating me. But you forget that I can’t use the power of the sky.”

“Won’t. Not can’t,” grumbled Sir Robert.

Lady Cassandra shot him a quelling look. “Just the fact that you possess so much of the elven lord’s magic may allow you to hold it.”

Despite Lady Cassandra’s initial reluctance for this mission, she appeared to now be supporting it. Cecily looked deep into those soft brown eyes and realized Cassandra looked a bit wistful. As if she wished she could be the one to go on this mission. “You would like to, wouldn’t you?” murmured Cecily.

A quick nod of that elegantly coiffed head.

Of course the lady would not give her a task she wouldn’t be willing to do herself. That realization brought Cecily more comfort than it should. “But Breden of Dewhame has been looking for me.”

“Not you,” said Sir Robert, “just a hint of the power you used when he invaded your village. Our sources tell us he has given it up for some vestige of one of his own spells. He can’t be sure you even exist. And since he hasn’t seen you since you were a babe, he would not recognize you either. Are you committed to this enough for me to give you the rest of the details?”

Cecily took a breath, glanced at the lord and lady, the hopeful looks on their faces. Cecily quaked at the thought she might have the power to make such a difference in the fight for England’s freedom. What if she failed? But she wanted nothing more at that moment than to wipe the smug look of doubt off Sir Robert’s face. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

A choking sound from the shadows. Astonishment from the faces of those surrounding her. Lady Cassandra appeared proud and worried all at the same time.

Sir Robert leaned forward, the curls of his white wig falling over his shoulders. “You will go to Dewhame Palace as the servant of Lord Longhurst, a loyal spy of the Rebellion. This way you will avoid appearing in court and will have access to all the gossip of the servants… who know everything first anyway. You can be almost invisible in that role. We have also gained a map of many of the secret passages within Dewhame Palace, so you can move about even more freely.”

Cecily nodded. The man made it sound so easy. “And what is the plan for stealing it?”

“Err, I daresay that will be up to you. You must move when you have enough information and feel that the time is right.”

Her amazement must have shown on her face, for Lord Mor’ded quickly interceded. “Breden of Dewhame will have no reason to suspect anyone would dare touch his scepter. Indeed, the elven lords’ arrogance is the Rebellion’s most powerful weapon. Within each of their chambers is a crystal stone that they use to communicate with one another. There is a cavity within the top of it that holds the scepter, and if Breden is anything like my fath—me, he will often leave it within the stone. Find a way into his chambers when he is not about and you may be able to take it without him even knowing.”

For some reason Cecily doubted that, but when Mor’ded of Firehame gifted her with a smile, changing his beauty to nearly ethereal, she could only nod dreamily in agreement with him.

Lady Cassandra stood, a wondrous swirl of lace and ribbons, and faced the shadows where Giles silently listened. “There is still the matter of what to do
after
she gains the scepter.”

Cecily appreciated that Lady Cassandra did not say
if
.

“The elven lords don’t often work together,” continued the lady. “But in this matter, I believe they will. They will combine their powers to hunt down the scepter and there is no place in England where Cecily will be safe.”

“Assuming,” said Mor’ded, “that Breden of Dewhame will admit to having it stolen. The elven lords will sense something amiss and try to contact him, but I’m counting on his arrogance to hide the matter.”

“Still,” replied Cassandra, “Breden himself will scour the countryside until he finds her.”

Silence fell over the room for a moment. Cecily could hear the rain spattering against the windows, the crackle of the fire. Sir Robert’s heavy breathing.

But not a sound from the shadows.

“Breden of Dewhame cannot find her if she’s no longer here.”

Lady Cassandra collapsed back down onto the settee. “What do you mean, Robert?”

“I had an epiphany, my dear. What about Wales?”

Mor’ded’s black eyes sparkled and he sat forward. “Indeed. I should have thought of that myself. It’s the perfect place to hide the scepter and Lady Cecily. If the scepters are not the source of magic, as we had always assumed, that means they can be taken past the barrier. And it has yet managed to proceed beyond the mountains of Wales.”

“
If
they can be brought past the barrier secretly,” said Lady Cassandra, her forehead still puckered with doubt.

Cecily latched on to the implications in their words. “I will have to leave England?”

“We have always thought of Wales as a part of England,” said Mor’ded, “despite the stubbornness of the Welsh and their freedom beyond the barrier.” At her raised brow, he shrugged and continued, “Not indefinitely. I hope one day we shall have need of you—and the scepter—once again.”

Cecily tried very hard not to bristle at his words. Of course they had little concern for how their plans would affect her life. They had more important issues to consider. And she had already decided to sacrifice herself for England. Thomas had given his life. She should be able to face banishment. But it would mean she would never see Giles again, and therefore could never win him back. And despite everything, she had still harbored hope of that.

But as they continued to discuss plans for delivering her safely out of England, Giles’s silence on the matter proved he had abandoned her. Cecily did not believe for a second that he had stopped loving her. She would never believe it. But he had obviously given up all hope of a future with her. So what did it matter if she left England? Without his love, it held nothing for her anymore.

“How would I get past the barrier?” Cecily finally asked.

“You must really learn to pay attention, my dear,” said Sir Robert. “That’s what we’ve been discussing for the past few minutes. We have established an underground system, of sorts, for saving the children whom we rescue from the trials. The elven lords have allowed only a few openings through the barrier which permits trade with the outside world, but the Rebellion has managed to gain the allegiance of a few ships.”

“There are several things you should know,” interrupted Lady Cassandra. “You will no longer have your magic once you’re beyond the magical barrier surrounding England. You will still possess your physical elven traits: beauty, grace, and speed. And we can’t be sure what will happen to the scepter; for this is the first time we have ever attempted such a thing. The trade goods of the elven do not possess any magic once beyond the barrier, but they still retain the attributes that the use of magic created them with: cloth exceptionally fine, or jewelry exquisitely crafted, or wine rich beyond imagining. We cannot even guess what properties the scepter might retain past the influence of elven magic.”

“It will be fascinating,” mused Sir Robert, “to find out, though. After all, the human world is not entirely devoid of magic.”

Cecily recalled the ring of stones through which Thomas had first contacted her. They were an ancient source of humankind’s own power, and had nothing to do with elven magic, so she agreed with Sir Robert. But what might the scepter still be able to do? And she would have no magic to counter it with.

No magic.

For years she’d tried to hide her powers, to pretend they did not exist. And now she would be facing a future where she would truly be able to live like an ordinary human. Sir Robert and Mor’ded and Lady Cassandra watched Cecily as if they expected some outcry from her. A refusal based on the final injustice of having her magic taken from her.

They did not know her at all.

Cecily smiled. “Wales, you say? I’ve heard it’s a beautiful land.”

A collective sigh of relief. Then Lady Cassandra rose and held out her hand to Cecily. “We have much to do to prepare you for this mission. Robert, will you be so kind as to ring for your man to escort us to Lady Cecily’s room?”

Within moments the outer door opened, and a liveried footman bowed to them. Cecily followed the lady to the door, passing so close to the shadows Giles hid within that she fancied she could feel the heat of his body.

Cecily slowed her steps. Surely he would step forward and stop her. Would insist he accompany her. Would demand that she allow him his protection.

But he did not stir. Indeed, he appeared to be holding his breath.

And at that moment, she knew. Knew she could never break past the distance that the mark had brought between them. He would no longer be her protector.

Whatever small hope she’d been holding onto died. She would never win him back. He would not give her the opportunity.

Cecily hurried after Lady Cassandra, a sudden anger building within her. Damn Giles Beaumont for making her love him. Damn him for giving up on their love so easily.

She would focus on her mission and try to forget him. He had broken her heart once before, and she had managed to survive. It would be harder this time, but she would do it.

The footman closed the door to the library behind them, and Cecily thought she heard a sudden clamor of raised voices behind it. But she refused to allow herself to care about any discussion that Giles may be having with Sir Robert and the elven lord.

She had her own perilous task to focus on.

***

Cecily traveled in a coach to the city of Bath, and after the first day she missed Belle with a severity that made her eyes water. Instead of the mare’s smooth, even gait, she was subjected to a constant bouncing and tossing about within the closed box of the carriage.

And when they finally stopped for the evening, she faced a dirty inn with watery stew and the constant chatter of other travelers.

Cecily longed for the times when she’d traveled with Giles. The evenings spent beneath a star-speckled sky, the scent of a fresh stream to bathe in. The quiet talks and the comforting sound of the horses grazing. The heat of Giles’s strong body as he crawled into the blankets beside her—

No. She would not torture herself with such musings. Especially not now, on the last day of her journey.

Cecily stuck her nose out the window, grateful for the fresh air. And the scent of water. It had grown quite strong the moment they entered Dewhame and her entire being had quivered in delight at the abundance of it. But as they neared Bath, she realized the small fountains and streams of the country were nothing when compared to the wealth that awaited her up ahead in her father’s—Breden of Dewhame’s capital city.

“Lord Pennington, the wretch is sitting upon my skirts again.”

Cecily turned to glance at the lady sitting next to her and sighed. The large woman wore a wealth of skirts suited to her frame, which meant Cecily had but a sliver of the seat to sit on already. But still, she somehow managed to scrunch even closer to the window when the lady’s husband glared at her over his periodical.

Lady Cassandra had dressed Cecily for her role as servant only too well. Despite the fact that she did not work for these people, they treated her on the trip as their
own
personal servant. When they weren’t ignoring her, of course. Cecily had come to understand Giles’s meaning of the social gulf that existed between the classes. That line appeared to be significant beyond the borders of her little village, and she had yet to see anyone cross it. It made her understand some of her mother’s behavior at times, and suddenly made her miss her even more.