“Then I know just where to find them,” Tonkin said with a toothy grin.
Selinda moved down the hallway, just a few rooms away from her own, to the nursery. She pushed into the room and found her young brother sitting on the floor in the sunshine playing with a rag doll.
“Linda!” he cried, reaching his arms up to her. He still couldn’t quite get her full name right. But that hardly mattered. It was one of the things that endeared him to her. She hastened to kneel beside him and gathered his frail little body into her arms, pressing him close to her heart.
“So, Drakin, how are you feeling today?”
“Oh, he’s having a good day, my lady,” the governess said fondly. She had been sitting in a rocking chair watching over the young boy.
Selinda didn’t quite know if the nanny could be trusted. Grannish had been the one to hire her, yet the nanny seemed entirely devoted to Drakin. She spoiled him, to be honest, and it was clear he was the apple of her eye. But Selinda couldn’t escape the feeling that the nanny might be a viper in disguise, poised to strike the innocent child down at Grannish’s command.
“Feel good!” Drakin confirmed. “Play wif me?” he asked, holding up the doll.
“Of course I will,” she said with a smile. She sat him back on the floor with no little reluctance. She always felt he was safer while in her arms. But she couldn’t watch over the child every single minute of the day. Had she been free of her duties as chatelaine she might have, but there was no one else and so many people depended on her.
She sometimes felt guilty for that. Even though she frequently snuck away to play with her brother, she still felt guilty that she could not keep better watch over him.
“Come, now. Let’s find me a dolly and we shall play together,” she said, scooting over to his toy chest.
She would play with him, and for a little while they would be safe and happy together.
“The grand sits up there in his pretty fortress eating his elegant food with his elegant daughter while we are down here starving! Our farms are overrun with the enemy. Every year the money we invest in seed is in danger of being thrown away should our fields be the ones the Redoe savage before they leave! And yet we are required to till and seed every year or we risk losing our farms entirely! Where is the fairness in that?” the lead speaker demanded, setting up a roar from the crowd stuffed into the large room.
Dethan stood in the back of the room with Tonkin, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest as he listened to the speaker. There were six of them altogether, standing at the head of the room. They stood on top of a table. So that everyone could see them, Dethan thought. And so that they were perceived as being bigger than they were. Very clever. As they spoke, reeling off points of why their lives were unbearable and who was most to blame, the crowd became more and more riled up. Shouting and surging as one. It was a powder keg, Dethan thought. It was the way revolutions were born. Was that the goal here? Or was this just a way of venting frustrations? Dethan knew of a sure way to find out. He took a step forward, drawing in a breath, readying to speak up.
“And the grandina,” the man said suddenly.
Dethan stiffened, his words freezing on his lips. What of her? What did they think of Selinda?
“A good heart means nothing when trapped in a gilded cage,” the speaker said bitterly. “She tries and we can all see it, but as long as she is controlled by others, she has no true effectiveness. And others will control her for the rest of her days. Her engagement to Grannish has seen to that.”
Instead of roaring approval this time, the crowd fell deadly silent. A wave of discomfort rippled through the crowd and one of the other men stepped forward to say something with haste in the speaker’s ear.
“I don’t care,” he said, shrugging off the man who was clearly warning him, his voice swelling over the crowd like a wave. “You see? I am not afraid to speak his name! Grannish! We all know he is the poison that is killing this city! We are just too afraid to do anything about it!”
“Kyran, please,” the other man said, this time more loudly. “You know anyone who speaks against Grannish does so at risk of his life. We need you here, alive, not in Grannish’s dungeons or dead from a mysterious illness. Grannish has the power to see into even the most hidden corners. You must be careful!”
“Let him come for me. Let them all cart me away. At least I will know I spoke my true heart and wasn’t afraid to do so.”
The crowd went absolutely wild, cheering in support, gaining courage from the man’s blatant bravery.
“But can you temper that recklessness?” Dethan shouted above the ruckus.
The room turned as a single entity toward Dethan when he’d shot out the query.
“And who are you?” Kyran asked warily, eyeing the make of his clothes, which stood out in the crowd of mud farmers and commoners.
“A man looking for men who wish to make a difference,” Dethan said.
“You mean you’re a noble looking for peons to do your dirty work,” the leader scoffed.
“I’m no noble.”
Kyran narrowed his dark eyes on the man, seeing that his stance was strong and his lack of fear in the face of a rowdy crowd emanated off him in impressive waves. Kyran could believe the man was not a noble. Nobles were soft. Arrogant without cause.
“Then who are you?” Kyran asked when the man did not volunteer the information.
“I am Dethan, and I am to lead an army of men against the Redoe.”
Kyran laughed and the laughter was echoed throughout the room.
“I heard something about this. Another folly led by the nobles, done half well and as ineffectual as ever.”
“There will be no half measures this time,” Dethan said, stepping forward into the crowd. The mass of men tried to bully him with their size and their discontent, but he paid them no mind. “I do not lose when I fight a war.”
“Strong words. You think much of yourself.”
“I do. I am a proven general. I have conquered many cities. A pestilence like the Redoe will be an easy matter … provided I can find strong and trustworthy lieutenants. Do you say you are up to the task?”
Kyran was floored and looked around him, as if to discover which of his fellow revolutionaries had set him up for a joke.
“He speaks with truth,” Tonkin spoke up over the rising response from the crowd. “Are you all talk or will you put your words to action?”
The room fell silent, and they all looked up at Kyran. The leader swallowed as he tried to grasp how the use of the room had changed from being his sounding board to being a source of expectation to action. All with just a few words and the presence of a man.
“I’ll not fight to line the pockets of fat nobles,” Kyran scoffed.
“But will you fight to get your farms back? Will you fight to free the city of Grannish’s grasp? For if we succeed in this endeavor, we will have done both.” Dethan stepped up to the table Kyran was standing on. “You say you have no love of Grannish? Then help me to depose him. Every task I accomplish that he could not will elevate me above him in the grand’s eyes.”
“And why should I want you to be elevated? Why should I help you in your effort to gain power?”
“My power will be the people’s power. I will only ever have as much as they will want me to have. I will prove myself over time and will gladly work to earn their trust. I am asking for you to help toward that end. Let us make a start by giving the mud farmers back their lands and freeing this city from the siege that hurts its trade and starves its people. Show me you have the skill and bravery to lead men into battle, and I will make you my second in command.” Dethan gave the group an assessing glance. “Take with you those you trust most to do what you ask of them.
“You are standing here demanding power to change things and here I stand offering it to you. Will you accept it or are you just full of words?”
Kyran’s jaw clenched as he realized he was being baited and m
anipulated … and that it was working. “How do I know you have the power to do what you say?” he asked, honestly wanting to know. He had been watching so many of his people suffer under Grannish’s governance. He had longed for the opportunity to do something for them in the face of that known tyrant. But he had felt just as helpless as everyone else. They couldn’t even plot a proper revolution because the Redoe had all movement out of the city completely blocked off. There was no way to gain munitions except through the black market, and the blockade runners charged dearly for their services. And no wonder, for it was a deadly business. Anyone caught leaving the city met a bad fate at the hands of the Redoe. They would not be moved until they wished to be moved.
“I’m awaiting an answer. The offer will stand for only as long as I am in this building. I do not have time to waste on prevaricators.”
Dethan waited another few moments while the rebellious speaker struggled with what he should do next. Then he turned on his heel and began to walk toward the exit door. It wasn’t until his hand was on the handle of the door that the man blurted out. “All right!”
Kyran leapt off the table and pushed through the murmuring crowd as Dethan turned back toward him.
“Very well, you say you are a general. You say you can do these things. I will be with you and I will watch you closely. The minute I see you are in this solely for your own gain while walking on the backs of others, so help me I will run you through myself.”
“You can try. I am not that easy to run through,” Dethan said with some amusement.
“That’s good, because Grannish isn’t going to stand for you. He will not let you show him up and he will use any means necessary.”
“Including no doubt killing off my best lieutenants,” Dethan noted.
Kyran narrowed his eyes a moment, then he chuckled. “He can try,” he said. “I am not easy to run through either.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now come with me. Tonkin says you can duel with a sword as well as you duel with your tongue. Come show me. And bring with you the men you feel can swing one as well.”
Kyran nodded and held out his hand. “Kyran,” he said.
Dethan pressed the back of his hand to Kyran’s.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Selinda was being watched.
She ought to have been used to it. She’d been spied on constantly since Grannish had come into a position of power. But this was something very, very different. The dark eyes upon her were those of a tall, powerfully built man, one whose surety and confidence seemed to radiate into her even from the relative distance he was standing at.
Dethan didn’t even flit an eyelash when she turned to meet his regard of her with a lifted chin. She wanted him to know she was aware of his disconcerting staring. She couldn’t figure out why he was watching her so closely. Was he looking to see if she would somehow betray his trust? Was it just because he lacked Grannish’s network of spies and therefore had to resort to doing the dirty work himself?
She tried to focus on her task at hand. She was in the main antechamber, sitting on the cold stone floor amongst a throng of children, all plucked from the lower quarter of the city. Their clothes and their feet were brittle with dried mud.
She was teaching them basket weaving. On other days she taught stitchery. On still others she taught cooking.
She stood up after a while, moved around the children, and encouraged or corrected them, then—unable to help herself—she left the circle of children and faced him, moving to the wall he had chosen to lean against. As she confronted him, she couldn’t escape how much bigger he seemed. Taller for certain, but the sheer mass of muscle had increased considerably throughout the day. She was realizing that this was truly how he had once looked. The frailer man she had first met had not yet had the opportunity of a full day to heal. Now it was nearing evening meal and he looked … vital. So alive and so strong. It gave her hope that he really would be able to face the challenges he would be coming up against, and it also filled her with trepidation. There was no sense that this man might be tamed. When he gained traction in this world, there would be little to stop him. She would once again be ineffectual in the face of a powerful man should he choose to use that power against her.
Still, she would not let herself be tamed by him any more than she let Grannish tame her. Perhaps that made her stupid. She often argued with herself about it: Wouldn’t it be better to just keep her head down, do as he wished, and not make any waves? It would be safer, but it would not be better.
When she reached Dethan he nodded to the gathering of children. “Why do you do this? Can your time not be better spent?”
She lifted her chin and set her jaw, and he could see the affront in her eyes. He knew he was about to be upbraided, and she did not disappoint.
“These children have nothing,” she said. “They are poor, their parents barely able to clothe them.” She nodded to one child, who was nearly naked. “These are skills that might one day be marketable. One day they might make a living … or at the very least they can provide things for use in their own homes. They cannot read, cannot do figures. I would teach them, but … there’re just too many of them, and Grannish will not provide schools.”
Dethan could see the regret swimming in her brilliant blue eyes. She had the blackest of lashes, he realized, a perfect frame for the stunning teal of her eyes. When strong emotion filled them, like it did right then, it made them seem so compelling to him. He found he had the hardest time looking away from them. From her. There was so much beauty to her. She was tall for a woman. Fair-skinned and held safe from the rigors of the sun. Pale and protected. At first glance her frame might seem too slender, too delicate, but the strength in her spine and in her heart defied the delicacy of her build.
Dethan’s gaze dropped to the swells of her breasts at the reasonably conservative line of her corset. She wore deep purple today, the darkness of the color making the skin of her cleavage seem all that much paler. He found her breasts were also dusted with the lightest hint of freckling. It made him want to touch his mouth to that skin. To stroke his tongue over the little marks.
The thought took him by surprise, as did the sensation of excitement that slithered through his body. Then craving came quickly on its heels. It had been so long since he had felt true desire that it stunned him. The times he had kissed her had been almost … chaste. But now, as time wore on, he found himself unable to stop watching her. Watching how she moved, the way her long skirts swayed and brushed the floor with every shift of her weight or drift of her hips. She moved so fluidly. Almost sensuously.
Even better, he knew she was completely unaware of it. So that meant it came naturally to her. How rare and exotic that was … a woman born to sensuality. Oh, he had known many women who had tried to peddle themselves as sensuous creatures, but he had always seen through them, had always found them wanting.
There was nothing left wanting about Selinda.
“Grannish would prefer the poor remain ignorant and easier to handle. That’s his theory. I do not think—Why are you staring at me?” she asked fiercely, a hand fluttering up to cover the cleavage he had been fixated on.
He looked up to meet her eyes and found himself answering her honestly. “Because you have the prettiest breasts I’ve ever seen, and just the sight of them has me thinking and craving things I am sure you could hardly begin to imagine.”
She caught her breath and he saw color flush across her cheeks and then across her breasts. Her breathing increased in tempo.
“Wh-what a thing to say to a woman!” she hissed at him, clearly flustered.
He chuckled at her. “If you’re offended by that, I won’t mention what comes to my mind when I see those sweet hips of yours.”
Selinda gasped. She ought to have been horrifically offended, as he said, but along with her shock at being spoken about in such a way came something else … something heated and quick that raced through her blood. Unable to help hersel
f, she imagined the things he might be thinking … and found she was woefully unequipped to come up with anything.
“M-my hips?” Oh gods! Why had she said that? He was going to take it as an invitation! She didn’t want to encourage him … did she?
“Yes,” he said, leaning his big body in closer to hers. “I imagine what they would feel like nestled between my hands. I imagine touching you, guiding you …” He trailed off and his lashes lowered for a second as he took a deep breath. What was wrong with him? he wondered. She was so sheltered that she would find his remarks offensive, yet he couldn’t seem to keep from speaking them aloud. It was as though something else was driving him.
That same driving force made him reach out to touch her, his fingertips brushing over the delicate, bare yoke of her collarbone. Her breath hastened, and he was surprised and delighted by the reaction. His words were not offending her, they were … they were … arousing her perhaps? Had it been so long that he was mistaking her reaction?
When Dethan touched Selinda it was like striking a match. His touch singed her like a flame, but this flame did not burn in bad ways. No. This was something else. Something so different. She felt heat rushing through her and became hyperaware of the fact that his hand need only drop a few inches and he could be cradling her breast in his broad palm. He had not touched her so overtly yet, so why did she find herself suddenly craving …
Blushing, she awkwardly took a step back. She had intended to break away from him, but instead, it made his hand drop briefly to the line of her corset. His fingers lingered there a long moment, the touch of his skin against hers burning like acid. But then he looked up and around at their surroundings and let his hand fall away. It took a great deal of effort, it seemed, not to lean into him with her body, not to chase his withdrawing touch.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Were it not for the eyes around us I would very much be touching your sweet skin right now. But that is a pleasure I must save for later.”
Cursed by Fire: The Immortal Brothers Page 18