Her mouth opened in surprise.
She was very close. Her nearness made his fingers itch with the need to touch her, a need that he willed himself to ignore. Magic warred against him, urged him closer and he paused, perplexed. It was not like his Talent to make such a blatant and powerful move toward a single lady before.
"How?" She asked, but her eyes were distracted by his mouth.
He saw this and his body tautened at the mutual attraction he felt there. Whatever was going on with his magic seemed to be working on her as well. Leaning forward, slow and deliberate, he hovered his mouth over hers. "The Braziers told me so," he whispered to her.
The breath she let go of was shaky, testifying to the tremble he saw vibrating through her body. Dorian smiled, remaining poised just as he was and touched her good shoulder, letting his fingers slide over the cotton of her sleeve. Never once in his life had his magic steered him wrong, he had to trust that there was a reason for this intense sensation. Pinching the fabric of her sleeve between his fingers, he waited. She made the decision a moment later, rising to her toes just enough to close the gap between them, her mouth meeting his with firm urgency.
He pulled her into him, catching her with both arms and taking the lead. Or at least he tried to. It was intoxicating, the way she kissed him. Unyielding, fighting to get closer, she linked her arms around his neck and he felt the entire press of her body against his. He could taste the power in her. Tangy and sweet, like summer strawberries, she was harboring more power than any Talented he had ever met. It was in the glide of her tongue over his, passing into him as they shared a sudden desire.
And then his hand brushed against her left side and she pulled back with pain.
They stood leaning into each other, both reeling and unsteady.
"You ... " he paused when she looked up at him. There was a reason she had chosen to keep her identity secret. There was a reason she had allowed the explosion to harm her. Inasmuch as he was certain he knew who she was now, he could not risk exposing her. Not even in the privacy of the jungle. "You really ought to let me heal your side."
"At this exact moment, Milord, I would think that would be a very bad idea."
He chuckled low in his throat. "I can't deny your logic." Giving her a roguish wink, he smiled, "Though I could attempt to be a gentleman."
She looked beyond his shoulder and straightened, pulling away from him. Dorian glanced behind him, noticing the sudden audience they had. A man with wild, salty hair watched them both, sword drawn and a cocky smile on his face. There appeared to be no threat because Nessa ... Elsie ... whichever she preferred to be called, stepped around him and toward the man.
"Forvant," she greeted. "Lady Leona made it safe to the Manor?"
"Safe and sound, Nessa," was the reply.
"Good." She turned and gestured in his direction. "I'll need you to escort His Lordship there now."
"Where exactly are you going?" Dorian asked, moving to her side. There was something unsettling about the set of her shoulders.
She ignored him, continuing her instructions to Forvant instead. "Inform Bryva that I have gone to seek medical attention ... that should keep Lady Leona happy for the moment."
Forvant nodded his head once and eyed him with acute distrust.
"Do not worry about His Lordship. He was the target in this situation, which I'm certain he understands better than anyone else." She lowered her eyes to the ground. "And there is one more thing, Forvant."
"Eh?"
"If you see Artimus along the way you are not to allow him near His Lordship."
Dorian felt the name through him like a rod of lightening. "Artimus Berkuska?"
"Your Lordship is an unpopular man it seems." Nessa exhaled long and slow, shaking her head up at him. "Lord Feverrette, I was not being trifle with you when I tried to get you to leave. This is as much for your safety as it is for ours."
"You do not need to concern yourself with my safety."
"Yes," she said with dry, untamed sarcasm, "I've seen that for myself. Do us all a favor. Follow this man to the Manor. Sit in safety long enough for things to settle."
"And where will you be?" Dorian asked through his teeth.
"Trying to talk sense into my mentor."
"Artimus Berkuska was your mentor?" Revulsion struck him with force.
"A man will come for you when it is safe." Nessa turned to leave, then paused, "Try not to forget your sword this time, Milord."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Reonne did her best enactment of shock and fear when Lord Feverrette informed her of the morning's events. He sat across from her; immaculate in spite of the adventure, relaxed in his chair with what she believed was a practiced look of casual disinterest. She'd known about the attack, of course. Her daughter excelled in nothing as well as she did in the art of gossip. Her recount of how Feverrette had used his Talent to save her had flown through the Manor with dizzying speed.
"I am pleased to see there was no real damage done to you, my Lord." Reonne smiled over at him, realizing that she had begun tapping her nails against her desk again. She flattened her palm over the desk to stop herself. "I am also grateful for your service to my daughter."
"Had I not been there then the entire situation would not have happened."
"You are certain that you were the real target?"
"I've lived through three contracts against my life, Milady. I know when I am being hunted."
"I shall have guards doubled in your corridor then," she said. There was an imperceptible twitch at the corner of his left eye. No doubt he knew she was trying to spy on him now, but with circumstances as they were he could not refuse the added protection.
"It is appreciated, Milady."
"Now then," she gestured to the stack of papers in front of her. "I pulled forward all of the information on the death of the Family Delgora for you. Shall you read it or hear my remembrances of the day in question?"
"Both, if you do not mind, milady." Feverrette kept his eyes on her, that smug smile of his plastered to his face. "When I return home I would like to have a full rendering to give my mother."
"Very well," Reonne slid the paperwork his direction. He let it stay there, which bothered her a bit. She had hoped he would be distracted by reading the information as she told him her version. Folding her hands in front of her she shook her head and sighed. "When I happened on Tibelda ... that was the House Witch ... she was a good sort of person. She doted on that daughter of hers in such a way that she was nearly blind to the rest of the world."
"You mean Elsie, correct?"
"Correct," she squinted at the doorway and took a moment to find her place in the story again. "The Lady was in a great deal of pain when I got to her. She'd been screaming, and in the time it took for me to get from my personal study to the woman's rooms ... well ... I fear there was nothing for me to do."
"And your rooms were?"
"Just three doors away from hers," Reonne recognized the fact that he was interrupting on purpose, trying to make her lose her place and give something away.
"It must have been startling, finding the House Witch in such a manner."
"Oh, it was terrifying." Reonne touched her fingers to her chest, pretending for a moment that the event had touched her deeply. "We Untalented sometimes believe the House Witch is indestructible. That they are bereft of pain or weakness. To see Tibelda like that ... " she trailed off for a moment. "I held her as she died, absolutely stricken."
"Where was the Heir Apparent during all of this?" He lifted one booted foot to rest on his knee. "Did the child not hear her mother in distress?"
"Elsie was on the far side of the manor, in her playroom on the bottom floor." Reonne started tapping her fingers again, this time on purpose. "It is horrible, what happened here. At the same moment that the House Witch was dying, her daughter was in the same state. The reports state that the girl was playing tea. She took a sip and fell over dead. She was three years old."
&nb
sp; Feverrette's brows pinched in either concern or disbelief. "This was a carefully planned assassination. Whoever was behind it had to have help."
"We believe so as well. The events of that night shook all of Delgora. We sent notices out for aid to all of the Houses, but none answered."
Feverrette grumbled for a moment, casting his gaze out the window just behind her. Reonne watched him, trying to discern the look on his face. When he spoke again his voice was terse, "That's not all that surprising. The Great Houses tend to focus on their own, immediate problems. And with Delgora so far removed from the main land mass, they would not consider your problem to be serious enough to warrant their attention."
"Yes, I know," Reonne shook her head as though she were disappointed by this. In point of fact, she had chosen Delgora because of its remote location. She could quietly advance her family into power without the aid of Magic or the blessing of the Fates. The two deities were oblivious to most matters anyway, it was time someone took their destiny into their own hands.
"Where was the Consort during all of this?" Feverrette asked.
This part was not so hard to fake. Reonne winced and looked away, waiting the space of three breaths before she answered. "His Lordship Brochan Delgora-Fie was seen fleeing the Manor just moments after the House Witch died. He was ... twisted and unnatural." She turned to catch Feverrette's eyes. "It is suspected that he made a deal with a Dellidus."
"That's impossible." Feverrette frowned, finally sitting up and reaching for the paperwork. "There hasn't been a Dellidus inside Civilized Lands for decades."
"It was only a suspicion, Milord. The reports from those who saw him mention a scaled neck, clawed hands and fangs. They said he looked more of a monster than a man."
"Why did you not include this in your plea for help? Surely someone would have answered the call. The threat of a Dellidus is too serious to be ignored."
"Because there were only the three reports, Milord, I did not wish to cause a panic without some shred of proof."
Feverrette rose to his feet. "My Lady, you might have erred on the side of caution. None would have faulted you for it given the fact that you are Untalented." He paused at the door, his hand on the handle as he half-turned toward her again. "Where were the Warders during all of this?"
"They arrived just after the Witch died."
"No. I mean where were they that they did not hear the call?" His mouth pursed in a thin, angry line. "I doubt they could have saved her but they might have used their Remora Stone to slow the poison. Tibelda might have been able to name her attacker."
"Delgora has trouble maintaining Warders. They come for a bit and then their office is vacant for months on end."
"Now this is Civil Law, Vicaress. According to the Counsel of Houses every city must have at least two Warders at all times. It is a matter of protection for the Untalented as well as the Talented."
Reonne took his berating tone, bowing her head in the mock of cowing under his gaze, all the while seething inside. She held her tongue until he had stormed from her office, waiting until she was certain he was far enough away from her door before she stood.
"Arrogant twit of a man!" She hissed. "Assume to scold me, do you?"
She moved around her desk and yanked open her door. Mirias stood there and dropped into an urgent curtsy. Reonne was not in the mood for anything more. She needed to find It. That blasted Dellidus could get rid of Feverrette without any accusing gazes settling on Delgora. The only pity was that she could not be there to watch it suck the young lord dry of his Talent.
"My Lady," Mirias kept her eyes on the floor.
"Speak quickly, Mirias, I've things to do."
"The Braziers ... ."
Reonne paused her progression and glanced around the main hall. Up on the raised dais the braziers remained lit; their flames dancing with crimson light that mocked her for being a fool. She knew what her servant would say before the words left her mouth.
"I doused them, but the flames would not falter."
Her skirts snapped with the fury of her movement as she pivoted and marched through the Manor doors. All this time she had the proof of Elsie Delgora's life sitting right beside her, laughing as she made her plans. They would not prevail, though. Elsie would be found, the threat of her return quelled, and those blasted Braziers would not light again until Leona sat as House Witch. And Leona would sit as House Witch. The unwitting woman was too perfect for Magic to reject.
It was just a matter of convincing the girl that there was no other choice.
***
Elsie carefully folded Leona's day dress, packing it near the top of the lady's crate and attempted to fend off the worries of the day. Her side burned with the evidence of still imbedded splinters, and her temples throbbed in a desperate need for sleep. To top it all, she'd kissed Feverrette. She still wasn't certain why she'd done it. He'd been there, her magic had seemed to want it, the jungle had been quiet and private and she'd just kissed him. She really should have known he'd be good at it, too. Elsie had to make a conscious effort to stop thinking about it because she needed to remain useful to Leona. If Leona thought she was too ill to travel, then she would insist that Elsie remain home instead of accompanying the troupe bound for Winter Tournament.
And Elsie had to be at the Winter Tournament. She'd spent the last several months setting up an arms deal, and she simply could not afford to trust it with anyone else. Swords and Arms were strictly accounted for within Civilized Lands, especially in Delgora. Lady Reonne had seen to it that all Arms Laws were tightened in Delgora, cutting down the chance of an uprising. Elsie could have worked through the Sanctuary, but in the end they did not have the amount of supplies needed to arm everyone in Elsie's camp.
"Don't forget to leave room for shopping," Leona chirped from her side of the room.
The girl had bounced back from the violent morning with frightening efficiency. One would never have known she'd been in danger; she was so bright with anticipation. Not only was it a chance to roam unchecked by her mother; Leona had a favored Hemic Knight that she sallied for. For the last few years Elsie had seen a fondness grow between Leona and her Hemic Knight, Callen Beroe. He was from Lorant, the center-most House in all of Magnellum and consequently the place where Winter Tournament was held. He was also, if Elsie was remembering correctly, five-time champion for the Hemic Knight Tournament and had earned enough money now to be considered a favorable match for the Lady.
It was just a matter of the man requesting Lady Reonne's acceptance. Which Elsie believed was part of the reason Leona was so excited this year. Callen no doubt intended to escort them back from Tournament to make his appearance in Delgora.
"Oh! Nessa!" Leona stopped her packing with a gasp.
Elsie straightened, ignoring a twinge in her side and smiled at the lady. "Yes?"
"Did you finish that blanket I asked for? I got terribly cold last year on the boat."
"It is already packed, Milady."
Leona's hazel eyes twinkled with her smile. "We are going to have such a lovely time."
It was hard not to share the smile with the girl. The troubles of the morning seemed very distant when dealing with Lady Leona. There was too much energy, too much cheer in the woman's countenance. Even the issues of Artimus's disappearance from the Sanctuary seemed to recede in the light of their conversation.
The door opened and Reonne stepped in. Elsie suppressed a spurt of panic and moved to stand against the nearest wall, her head lowered in respect. Reonne did not visit Leona's rooms often and Elsie began to debate escape routes in the event that she had been discovered. As it was, irritation rippled from the woman as she took in the half-packed crates scattered across the room. "What is this?" Reonne demanded.
Leona looked puzzled for a moment. "We leave for Winter Tournament in three days, mother. I am packing."
Reonne's brow pinched hard together. "Has Lord Feverrette announced his intention to go?"
"Well, no ... "
"Then there is no need to pack. Until His Lordship has departed I need you here."
"Why?"
The Vicaress turned, almost ignoring her daughter. "Nessa Gelgova, correct?"
"Yes, Milady," Elsie answered, darting an uncertain glance at Leona.
"I understand you were present today at the events in the Market."
"Yes, Milady."
"That you took off with Lord Feverrette in the middle of it all?"
There was coldness to the way Reonne was asking, an abrupt curtness that she only reserved for situations that she thought were beneath her. This was a good sign. The Vicaress would not present such a cool manner if the uprising had been discovered. Forcing herself to relax she took in a deep breath and tried to puzzle through the Lady's line of questioning.
"His Lordship wished to draw the danger away from Lady Leona."
"So he chose you to lead him through the town?" Reonne asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.
"Yes, Milady. He has not been here long enough to negotiate the village alone." She kept her eyes on the floor now. "I led him into the jungle and he departed, not wishing to endanger me any further."
"Very well," Reonne huffed an impatient sigh and turned to leave.
"But why do you need me here, mother?" Leona hurried to follow her.
"Winter Tournament is a place to meet young men for the hopes of marriage. As long as Lord Feverrette is here you have a chance at charming him into wooing you."
Leona gasped and gave her mother a scandalized look. "But I don't want him to woo me!"
"Don't be foolish," Reonne sent her daughter a look of distaste. "It would be most advantageous for you."
Then she was gone, slamming the door behind her. Leona watched the door with a shocked expression for a moment before crumpling to the floor in a whoosh of skirts. She sniffed loudly and began to sob. Elsie gave an inward cringe, pitying the girl and hating her at the same time. Such a dramatic reaction made Elsie uncomfortable. Still, she managed to move to the girl and embrace her. Leona leaned into her, crying against her shoulder.
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