The Lord of Illusion - 3 (31 page)

Liveried servants brought in trays laden with decanters of wine and burgundy, silver bowls of savory soup thickened with spices that teased Camille’s nose. The company must have worked hard this day, for they all fell quiet as they ate with hearty appetites, only the king and Lord North speaking quietly through the first few courses.

Camille paid only half-attention to their conversation of fortifications and battle plans. Although the meal tasted delicious, she did not seem to have much appetite. She felt keenly aware of Drystan’s body sitting next to her, and every time she glanced at him beneath her lashes, her stomach would flutter.

Conversation finally began to flow among the company somewhere between the baked cod and roasted beef.

“You have hardly touched your food,” murmured Drystan beneath the flow of talk. “I hope you do not feel intimidated by our fellow conspirators.”

Camille glanced about the table. In their silks and satins and jewels, the assembled heroes of the Rebellion now looked the part, and had she been paying the slightest attention to them, she might have felt a bit in awe.

“They do not unnerve me, Drystan. They are all too… human. Despite their elven blood.”

“Then what is it?”

“You.”

He dropped his fork. “Me?”

“Indeed. I cannot explain it. I know we have traveled together, have gotten used to each other’s company. I usually feel quite at ease with you. But tonight… tonight there is something in the air. Can you not feel it?”

A slow smile spread across his face.

Dominic and Lord North discussed the magical properties of the scepters held by the half-breeds, versus the powers of the full-blooded elven lords. Whose would prove the strongest in a direct confrontation?

With their hands clasped together, Lady Cecily and Giles discussed the dragons she had created, with Lady Joscelyn adding comments about the gems she had crafted in the creature’s breasts, and how they would aid the beasts. Samson idly traced a finger along the back of his wife’s neck, making her blush and forget her words more than once.

Alexander teased Wilhelmina until she laughed, and begged Lady Cassandra to save her from the twisted humor of her husband.

Cassandra appeared too intent on playing with her husband’s long battle braids to pay much notice.

Drystan abruptly rose, tossing his embroidered napkin upon his plate. “Lords and Ladies. Will you kindly excuse us? I feel the need for a walk in the clouds.”

Camille’s mouth dropped open at the outlandish statement, but not a one of the rest of their party even blinked.

“Before dessert?” asked the king, his eyes twinkling.

“Ah, youth,” said Giles, cocking a teasing grin at Dominic.

Drystan took her hand and guided Camille out of the chair.

“Thank you so much for the lovely dinner,” she said as Drystan ushered her from the room.

“It was a pleasure to have you,” said Lady Cassandra, her voice trailing after them as they walked through the double doors of the dining room into the hall.

“Drystan,” murmured Camille, “do you not think that was a little rude?”

He shrugged broad shoulders beneath chocolate velvet. “They understand. And do not doubt they will make their own departures soon enough. I am surprised we all got past the fifth course.”

Camille smiled up at him, and he stopped in the middle of the flame-shrouded hall, his amber gaze searching the walls. He dragged her behind a pillar into the shadowed alcove just behind it, and enfolded her in his arms. He lowered his head and kissed her, swallowing her gasp of surprise. His mouth tasted of wine. Warm and sweet. His arms felt like steel bands encasing her, but he held her so gently she felt protected, not trapped. The shiver just beneath her skin, which had stayed with her since she had first laid eyes upon Drystan, suddenly blossomed into a rush of giddy excitement. She melted against him, into him, until she forgot to breathe.

The world stopped. Time hung suspended. And all she could do was experience Drystan.

He broke the kiss, placed his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her face. “I have wanted to do that all evening.”

“I have waited for you to do that all evening.”

“Indeed?” He pulled away, looked deeply into her eyes. “My foster mother came to see you tonight.”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Camille squirmed. She had no reason to feel guilty. “She told me about her courtship with your foster father.”

“And?”

“And… what did you mean by a walk in the clouds?”

He cocked his head, his smooth forehead marred by a slight frown. “If I show you, will you tell me your secrets? Have I not proven you can trust me?”

Camille closed her eyes, took a breath. She had told Lady Cecily she would not allow her fears to conquer her. She did not feel ready to share the truth about her barrenness, for tomorrow it may be moot. But there were some truths she must share with Drystan, or it would prevent her from getting closer to him. And she wanted that now more than ever.

“Show me,” she breathed.

Drystan took her hand, led her around the pillar, his brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment she saw the flaming walls of Firehame Palace; then they dissolved into a world of soft color. An enormous full moon glowed softly in the distance, nothing but clouds before and below it. It resembled the sky they had flown through to reach London, but in a fantastical way, the fluffy whiteness as iridescent with color as her gown, the moon a golden gem of shimmering warmth.

Drystan took a step forward.

“No,” cried Camille, pulling back on his arm. The instinctual fear of falling she had felt on the back of his dragon made her throat tighten once more.

“I control this illusion, my love,” he soothed, gently pulling her after him. Camille wrapped her arms around his neck and looked down. But she could not see the ground far below, only the thick blanket of clouds.

“As much as I enjoy your arms about me, my love, you must know I would never let you fall.”

Camille loosened her hold and stepped back, held just his hand. She must stop being foolish. Of course Drystan would not allow any harm to come to her. She rocked from heel to toe. “It feels like pillows. Not like the clouds we flew through over England.”

“They were naught but a wet mist,” said Drystan, his face alight with pride. “But they gave me the inspiration for this spell.”

“But you will need all your magic on the morrow. Is it wise to drain your resources?”

Drystan ran his hand across her cheek, frowned at his gloves until they disappeared, and then she felt the warmth of his skin. “If we are successful tomorrow, and the elven lords are sent back to Elfhame, we shall close the gateway firmly behind them. I do not think the Rebellion would risk another invasion. Right now, the portal leaks magic into our world, and it pools against the barrier created by the elven. If we close the door, the magic will fade… and I wanted to give you this gift while I am still able.”

Alarm flared within Camille as she suspected another meaning beneath his spoken words. Even if the Rebellion succeeded in their task, Drystan might not survive it. He was not as confident as he would have her believe—

“You really must feel this,” he said, glancing down at his feet. Camille followed his gaze. His shoes and stockings had disappeared, his fine calves rippling with muscle as he walked through the downy whiteness. He pointed at her satin shoes. “May I?”

Camille nodded. Her footwear disappeared as well, and she sank her naked toes into the clouds. Soft, buoyant, like lamb’s wool but not itchy. Although part of it felt solid, some of the whiteness puffed and swirled, creating a path of new shapes behind them. And now that she noticed, the white landscape shifted with different forms that grew and then altered to something new.

She pointed. “What is that?”

Drystan narrowed his golden brown eyes. “I do believe it is an elephant.”

“A what?”

“I saw it in a book once. That long tube is his nose, and the big flaps are his ears.”

Her finger shifted. “And that thing?”

“A giraffe. Faith, it is like true clouds, only better. As soon as a shape reminds me of something, it forms into what I imagine, only more accurately.” His voice lowered. “Magic is a grand thing, Camille. Now that I have known it, I will miss it.”

She shuddered. “Not I. You craft spells of beauty and wonder. But I have seen too many of Roden’s creations to regret the loss of magic.”

They walked in silence for a time, as shapes continued to form and shift around them. Camille recognized some of them, and marveled at those she could not. “Your books are like magic, Drystan. Taking you to new places and sights. You shall never lose them.”

“No.” His fingers tightened on her hand. “May I remove your gloves?”

She nodded, and they disappeared.

“You owe me a secret, Camille.”

She knew he would not allow her to evade the subject, and did not even try. Drystan had revealed all of his secrets to her. And now… well, now, she would have to tell him the most damning one of her own.

“I am cursed,” she blurted.

He did not scoff. Just turned and looked at her, concern etched in his handsome features. “Why do you believe so?”

“It has happened too often for me to doubt it. Perhaps my odd eyes should have warned me, but since I have no magic, I did not think I could possess something
other
.”

White fluffy flowers with long petals grew above and beside them in an arch that created a private tunnel. Camille suddenly felt sheltered and safe, and it allowed her to continue her confession.

“I discounted it the first time,” she continued. “With Rufus and Laura.”

“The children you took care of?”

“Aye. For the Earl of Ailesbury and his countess. They were good children, and too easy to love. I would have been happy, caring for them until they were grown, and then perhaps their own children.” Camille shook her head at her old foolish dreams and plans. “But Roden called them for testing…”

“They showed too much promise for magic?” he prodded.

“On the contrary. They showed little affinity for magic. Laura could barely conjure a decent illusion, and Rufus, none at all. But when Roden of Dreamhame crafted a nightmare to threaten them, they fought back with a creature that defeated his, and then in the blink of an eye, they were ripped from my arms and taken away. Lord and Lady Ailesbury were so distraught they could not bear to look at me or the governess, and dismissed us both, sending me back to the slave quarters.”

Drystan frowned, and Camille could see him thinking hard, as if he sought to piece together some sort of puzzle. But she already knew the answer. Besides the key branded on her body, the white witch had also cursed her to lose anyone she ever loved.

The flowers faded from the archway and shifted into a white rainbow speckled with bands of glittering color.

He gently squeezed her hand. “How long did you care for the children before this happened?”

Camille breathed a sigh of relief. He took her seriously. “A few years.”

“And were you with them when they were tested?”

“Yes.” Faith, how the memory hurt. She had buried it for long and long, but now those dreadful feelings felt as fresh as a new wound. She could feel the children trembling in her arms, hear their cries to save them as the elven lord’s soldiers dragged them away.

Her breath caught on a sob, but Drystan squared his shoulders and continued to walk her through the clouds, and she knew he would hear it all.

“And then I managed to find a position with Lady Pembridge. Such a sweet soul, who loved nothing more than gossip and a new gown. I tried not to love her, and managed to avoid it for a time, but I still possessed a heart back then, and after several years of her kindness and generosity, I could not help myself.” Camille kicked at the clouds beneath her feet, sending up a swirl of white puffy balls. “She had become a bit absentminded, a bit silly, her tired old mind no longer making sense at times. I tried to stop her from challenging Roden—no one challenges an elven lord. Still, there should have been little danger, for she had no magic to speak of to pose a threat to him. But somehow she managed to conjure a dragon to defeat his… and Roden killed her. I… I can still hear the snap of her old neck bones.”

“Camille, Camille.” Drystan stopped and pulled her into his arms, his chest so warm against her cheek. “At one time I thought I had been cursed, for I did not know about the scepters, and I believed the worst that people thought of me… that my fits were brought on by a demon, by an affinity for evil. But Giles and Cecily believed in my goodness, and they helped me to discover the truth.” He gently pulled her away by her shoulders, waited until she looked up at him. “My love. You are no longer alone. You have
me
to believe in you.”

Camille blinked. He understood. Perhaps he was the only man in the world who truly could. “But… what if I
am
cursed? Too many coincidences throughout my life have convinced me of it.”