Nevia thrashed against Garalach’s hands. “Let me go.” Her words carried the full force of her fury. “He needs me.”
“You must stay here.” Garalach put his mouth by her ear. “It is too dangerous.”
“I will burn this house down before I let my father hurt him!” Nevia’s eyes flashed with her fires.
“If you will stay here, I will go to him, Lady Nevia.” Garalach released her. “Stay here, safe in your father’s house.”
Realizing that her departure could possibly cause her father’s men to slay Melenius outright, Nevia mastered herself. Her airs breathed her acceptance of Garalach’s proposal, but as he left, Nevia beckoned to Ginovae. “Go.” Nevia’s whisper was harsh. “My hired swords will not be able to see Lord Firin leaving. Send them after him at once.”
Ginovae ran to obey, and Judal made his way to Nevia’s side. “Daughter, I understand your distress at seeing a fellow Lorin taken ill so suddenly, but I am sure that, after a little rest, he will be well.” He laid his hand on Nevia’s shoulder. “There is no need to leave your guests.”
Heat, though not open flame, flashed through Nevia’s skin, searing the flesh of Judal’s palm. “You are my father,” she said, looking up at him with invisible hatred in her eyes. “But do not push me. You cannot know how I feel.”
It gave Nevia a sense of pleasure to see the furrowing of her father’s brow. He did not, however, cry out, though she knew the pain was excruciating. “I will leave you with your best comfort for the illness of your friend.” Judal did not lose a breath. “Your new betrothed.” He laid his undamaged hand on Belamal’s shoulder. “See to her better cheer, my son.”
Belamal nodded and turned up his mouth. “With pleasure, Radiance.”
Nevia smiled in her fires as her father left the gathering. He would need to have his hand tended to, and that would give her the opportunity to go back to her chambers. She did not leave immediately, though, desiring to see Melenius if he should be able to return quickly.
“My dear Lady Nevia Akara.” Arixus Kelar Belamal leaned toward Nevia. “You are too kind, too gentle. It pains me to see you distressed by anything.”
Nevia stared. What nonsense did Belamal speak? She had shown no distress, at least none visible to him. And why should he care? “Do not concern yourself for me,” she said at last.
“But I must, fair one.” Belamal pressed her hand for an instant, but he did not hold it. “You are the greatest treasure of my home, the crowning jewel of the Kelar clan as you are the crowning jewel of Nirrion.”
Nevia was perplexed. The words he spoke she would have dismissed as the most idle flattery, but he lacked the simpering, puckered lips she associated with human insincerity. He spoke with a gleam in his eyes that Nevia had seen only on the faces of the most devoted acolytes at the temple of Jehiel. But why should Belamal look at her with worship? It made no sense. “I am but a woman,” she said. She did not lay claim to maidenhood.
“Ah, the perfect humility of a model maid.” Belamal continued to speak in the same inexplicable tone. “You do not know how long your virtues and beauties have been my chiefest aim, aside, of course, from the salvation of Nirrion from its enemies?”
Shock kept Nevia fixed to her place. “How long?”
“For nearly two years,” said Belamal. “So long have I been in negotiations with your father for your hand. And will you not, for the confession, kiss me here before our guests?”
Nevia took refuge in propriety. “Only a wife may kiss in public. A wife or a loose woman. I am not your wife, so would you have me be a she-wolf?”
“Alaxton shield I should ever be the cause of shame to you!” Belamal bowed his head. “Forgive me, fair one.”
She was scarcely listening. For nearly two years Belamal had been in bridal negotiations, two years during which she had already been betrothed to Melenius. Her father’s twisted mind had indeed deeply laid his plans. He could sell her but once, and yet he had had two husbands in mind. Of what benefit was it to sell her to Melenius, only to take her back again? Judal had not even kept the brideprice.
“Of course, fair one, though I have freshly furnished my house in preparation for your arrival, it will not be so luxurious as the home from whence I take you.”
“What matter about the furnishing, so long as there is joy in the home?” Nevia thought with longing of Melenius’s house on the Nerivi hill. She had never been there, but she knew that it was far inferior to her father’s house. Yet she would give half her fires to be there this moment.
“I knew you would speak so!” Belamal spoke with an emotion Nevia could not identify. “You are a Basura from your mother’s clan and an Akara from your father’s. Such a mingling of nobility has never been seen before. You are the perfection of a Skenje maid.”
“Hardly, sir.” Nevia tried to recall what she had heard of Belamal before this. She knew that he was Nirrion’s highest-ranking general, the leader of his clan due to his father’s early death, and that his clan was ranked fifth in Nirrion. She remembered once hearing her father speak of the purity of the Kelar clan’s blood.
“You are, fair one.” Belamal touched her veil. “Everything about you shows your Skenje beauties. You are the epitome of the virtues upon which our great republic was founded.”
“You flatter me.” Nevia looked away from Belamal toward the door. Melenius ought to have been able to cleanse any poison from his blood before this. That he had not returned showed that there was more amiss.
“I understand that my forward speech must seem too ardent for a maid of your delicate sensibilities, but believe me when I say that my heart beats for you – and for our glorious republic – alone.”
Nevia turned her gaze full on Belamal. “Our glorious republic?”
“Do not be jealous, fair one.” Belamal reached out to take her hand, but stopped just short of touching her. “That I love Nirrion so well does not mean that I love you any the less.”
“I am not jealous.” Nevia knew that her sincerity was as invisible to Belamal as her boredom was. “Truly. I would never wish to displace the republic in your heart.”
“I knew it!” Belamal’s mouth turned up, and he showed all his teeth. “You are Nirrion in human form!”
Nevia sighed in her airs. Belamal was not privy to her father’s plot; that much was certain. She kept half an ear open to his words, but her eyes searched each entryway for Melenius’s face. By the time she had given up on Melenius’s return, she was certain of only one thing. If the republic had a hole, Belamal would fuck it.
She rose. “It grows late, sir, and I must retire.”
Belamal was instantly on his feet. “Of course. I would not keep you from your rest. Until Waterday, when I shall claim you as my wife before all our great republic.”
Nevia was silent. Waterday. The day after tomorrow. She bobbed her head and retired to her chamber.
There she was met by Ginovae, whose face was crinkled. Worry, Nevia judged, was the cause.
“What is the news of Lord Firin?” asked Nevia.
“I sent the mercenaries, just as you required, Domina.”
“And?”
“There has been no word yet.” Ginovae twisted her hands into her tunic. “But, Domina, I fear your father’s wrath for you.”
“I do not.” Nevia would have smiled for Ginovae’s benefit had it been of any use. “Send a messenger to Lord Firin’s house. Have the messenger wait until Lord Firin’s return, and then bring to me whatever message my husband sends.”
“Yes, Domina. I have kept the messenger whom I bought when I hired the mercenaries.”
“He will do nicely.” Nevia went to her bed and sat.
It was late, and there was little time left before she would be sent to Belamal’s house. The day after tomorrow was to be her wedding. Nevia had no doubt that this would be the lavish affair her father had denied her with Melenius. The thought infuriated her, and she slipped from her room. She wanted to comfort herself with k
nowing that her father suffered from the burns she had inflicted on him.
She was followed by the two guards that were on her door, but they retained a respectful distance. So long as she was safely within the walls, they gave her a limited freedom to walk. The guests had departed, for her leaving had signaled the end of the festivities. The only thing that Nevia felt like celebrating was the sound of pain she heard from her father’s chamber, and the knowledge that, should she have wished it, she could have ended it with the regenerative power of her Earth. But she did not.
****
An hour had passed since Nevia had returned from her slow passage through her father’s house. She lay, unsleeping, on her bed. If Melenius were harmed, she would burn the house down around her own ears.
“Domina?” Ginovae opened the door and quietly crept to Nevia’s bedside. “Are you sleeping?”
“No.” Nevia sat up. “Is the news good or bad?”
“Good, Domina.”
Nevia’s fires leapt up, and she smiled all the way through to her earth. “What did he say?”
“The message from Lord Firin is that he is the most favored one of Aeirakai. The Moon-goddess herself must have watched over him. He woke on the Kuthevi hill. His guards are all dead, he fears, but though he was robbed of his goods, the guards you sent to him preserved his life and body. He is safely in his home once more.”
Nevia’s heart burned within her. “It is always best to be prepared even for the failure of a plan.” The bed beneath her frosted over. “But he was robbed, endangered. His death was my father’s end.” There was no doubt in Nevia’s mind about that fact. Judal was far too intelligent, too cunning, to have put this plan into motion without an ultimate end worth the effort. She did not want to underestimate her adversary. Had she been less prepared tonight, Judal would have killed Melenius. She itched to kill Judal, but she would not, not when Melenius had expressly forbidden it. But he had said nothing of anyone else.
She rose. “Ginovae, my robe. I wish to take the air in the courtyard.”
“Yes, Domina.”
Nevia judged that the courtyard, probably near the wall of the house, would have been where Judal would receive his assassins, the men who had killed Melenius’s guards and dumped him on the Kuthevi. Though doubtless Judal had already heard their report and dismissed them, that meant nothing to a Lorin. The foreign guards shadowed her, of course, and as she passed from the house walls to the courtyard, they drew nearer. They were nearly within arm’s reach, and she could hear the rapid approach of others. Nevia bent down and traced her slender finger in the earth. Frost trailed behind her touch, and she sent the Earth within her to brush the earth itself. She closed her eyes, seeing her father as he had stood here an hour before. She saw him passing out five gold sentinels, one to each of five guards. Nevia recognized their faces. They were some of the Skenje house guards, men she had known for most of her life. Among them was the captain himself, Tius.
She rose to her feet. They were as good as dead.
****
When the dawn broke, Nevia was already dressed. Despite the lateness of her night, she did not permit herself to rest for long. The next day she was to be transferred to Belamal’s house, and she would no longer be welcome in her father’s house, not after what she had done to Judal’s hand. Therefore today was the only opportunity she would have to take revenge on those who had so threatened Melenius.
Nevia glided out to the peristyle, knowing that the movement would attract the attention of the house guards. Though the peristyle did not have an outlet beyond the walls of Judal’s compound, still it was open to the sky. Though she was incapable of flying out – being as she was Fire and Earth – she doubted the guards knew that.
She was not disappointed. The two foreign guards who followed her drew nearer, but when she sat down by the pool, they stopped. Nevia smiled in her airs. This was too easy. But before she began her self-appointed task, she paused. The breath of the world wrapped around her, and for an instant she almost thought she could feel Melenius’s caress on her throat. She exhaled softly, whispering his name on the air that seemed to vibrate with his presence. Only then did she slip into the pool, going all the way beneath the water. When she came up for air, she saw that, around the edges of the peristyle, had gathered a few guards, both house guards and the foreign ones hired to keep her in check. Among them she saw Tius, captain of the guard, and his head wagged, while his heavy-lidded eyes traced her curves. Nevia calculated that the expression conveyed lust, and she laughed all the way to her waters. She pulled herself out of the pool, and her thin gown clung to her body. Her nipples were clearly visible, as she had known they would be. The pale pink of her gown emphasized the cherry-like quality of her nipples, and she made no effort to cover them as she approached Tius.
“I wish to go to the temple of Melara,” said Nevia.
Tius’s eyes did not leave her breasts. “You know, Domina, that I can’t let you leave.”
Nevia turned her back and walked toward the corridor where her own chamber was. She heard footsteps following her, and she saw that Tius had joined the foreign guards who dogged her path. She smiled. She had been correct, and his lust was now inflamed by her revealed charms. As she entered the cool darkness of the hallway, Nevia turned back to Tius. He was ahead of the foreigners, and if she were quick, he alone would see. Wordlessly, Nevia pulled on the fastenings of her gown, dropping half of the top. One perfect breast was visible to Tius, and at his sudden intake of breath Nevia laughed inaudibly. She darted around the corner, certain that Tius would delay her guards.
In scarcely three moments, Tius had come after her, his lust evident in the awkwardness of his steps. “How may I serve the Domina?”
“You can burn alive from the inside out and be damned to the outer darkness.” Nevia put her hand on Tius’s chest, and he was dead before he could scream. Nevia kept her fires raging in him until only a pile of ash remained.
When her foreign guards rounded the corner some two minutes later, their shoulders relaxed and their breath came easily when they saw her standing there. Nevia quickly recalled that those actions signified relief. Clearly, they had thought she was going to try to escape.
One dead, four to go.
****
Nevia rose from the table in her room. She had had no appetite, and her rich bread, already smeared with honey, was untouched. Three men had fallen, including Tius, and only two of Melenius’s would-be assassins yet lived. Nevia’s elements were in turmoil, dreading that her father might dismiss the pair for the night.
“The guards are changing, Domina.” Ginovae poked her head in the door.
“At last.” Nevia swept past her nurse and out into the passage. Though the foreign guards followed her, she saw that their feet dragged and their shoulders drooped; clearly, they were weary of her constant traipsing about the compound. She had not once tried their defenses today, not once tried to make a break for the compound gate. Nevia smiled in her fires. Their weariness would be to her advantage. They dragged farther behind her than they had done all day. Soon they would be relieved, and others would take their places; but by that time, she would have completed her task.
Nevia stopped still. She could hear her quarries’ voices. Throughout the day the pair had stood together, stationed within sight of the wall – and in sight of a dozen guards. Now, however, they would pass inside the house, in a corridor, and for some half a minute before her foreign jailers came back within view, no one would be able to see them at all.
“I tell you I haven’t seen Tius all day.”
“No, nor Caelus and Milus neither.”
Nevia could not make out the emotion in the voices, but it was a strong one. She hoped it was fear.
“I tell you Judal is killing us! Trying to keep us quiet.”
Nevia stepped around the corner. “No,” she said. “It is much worse than you had feared. Had it been my father who was responsible for your deaths, you could have expected to
die quickly, a slit throat in an alley perhaps. But it is I whom you have angered, and your deaths will be both slow and painful.” Even before she had finished speaking Nevia had begun her executions. “You need not try to scream, for it was your throats I have burned first. I shall broil your organs until your insides burst, and you shall know the agonies of the outer darkness before I let you die.”
Smoke drifted from the nostrils and ears of the two, and Nevia stood, watching, until they fell to the flagstones. She turned back to see her foreign guards staring at her. She did not speak to them but went back to her chamber. If Judal’s hirelings decided that the task of jailing her was too dangerous, that was his affair, not hers.
****
“Daughter?” Judal entered Nevia’s chamber. “It is the dawn of your wedding day, and I hope—”
“My wedding was three weeks ago.” Nevia was still lying on her bed in her nightdress, her hair loose and tumbled about her shoulders.
“I had hoped that you would be sensible, that you would accept Belamal. He is the epitome of a proper Skenje man, one whose blood is better suited to you than that barbaric Faror.”
“You should have thought of that before you wedded me to my husband, then.” Nevia sat up, and her coverlet crackled with frost. “I shall not marry Belamal. You cannot make me do anything. You can keep me prisoner, but if you try to drag me to the high temple and have me forswear myself before the city – you shall fail, and you know it.”
Judal nodded. “As I said, I had hoped you would be sensible about this whole thing, but I knew that there was a good possibility that you would be … stubborn. So I have already sent the signed documents to Belamal’s house. I have given out that, with the war on, you do not feel that it would be right to spend so much coin on a private wedding. Instead, you have requested that the money be used to give additional rations to the men under Belamal’s personal command. He was so touched by the gesture that he has commissioned a statue of you for the Forum.”
Nevia rose. “My gown, Ginovae.”
“Yes, Domina.”
Chasing Earth and Flame Page 8