"He's ruining everything!" Leona whimpered.
Elsie held her tongue, thinking how very right the lady was.
"Oh! Why did that awful man ever come here?"
"It is all right, Milady," she smoothed the girl's hair in an effort to comfort her. "We will find a way to fix this."
"How?"
Elsie pulled away from Leona and gave her an encouraging smile. "Do you trust me?"
Leona nodded.
"Then do not worry on it. I'll send Bryva to help you finish packing."
She helped Leona to her feet and moved to the door.
"Where will you be?"
"Chasing off an irritant," Elsie said and winked at her.
Leona choked on a laugh as she left.
CHAPTER NINE
Dorian was sleeping when the knock came at his door. Gremor crossed the room and opened it, eyeing the newcomer with passive distaste. Dorian watched as Gremor stepped aside to allow the visitor in. Annoyed because he was still haphazardly clad, laying sprawled across his canopied bed, Dorian sat up and tried to stuff his undershirt back into his waistcoat. Nothing fit him right anymore. That was likely the real reason Lady Leona had insisted on purchasing a new outfit for him.
The girl was far too generous and he did not normally appreciate pity. He could pay, of course. It was just the seamstress who had gotten him to agree to it all.
Nessa.
Elsie.
Fates! He was still conflicted with the days events. Beautiful, intriguing, dangerous and trained by the one man who would stop at nothing to kill him, the Fates really were laughing at him this time.
The newcomer was Forvant, looking every bit as grimy and sturdy as he had that morning.
"I'm to take you with me," Forvant announced.
"I say!" Gremor gave the man a distinct frown. "Remember your place, man!"
Forvant glanced at Gremor, shrugged and turned back to Dorian. "She says I'm to bring you with me, Sir."
"She?" Gremor turned his scowl onto Dorian. "Not that blasted Skirt again. I thought we talked about this."
"No, we shouted about this. From the window, as I recall. And I left anyway," Dorian climbed out of the bed, forcing his garments into submission.
"My Lord, I really must remind you of your father's instructions ... "
"My father, Gremor, wishes to see my happiness." He buckled his belt, fingers brushing the grip of his pistol just to be certain it was still there. The tip of his scabbard nudged his left calf muscle and he mentally noted its presence as well.
He would not go unarmed in front of the Heir Apparent again.
Gremor stepped in the way. "And will she bring you true happiness, Sire? Your fleeting quests only bring you that empty, remorseful look. I've seen it all too often."
Dorian stopped, amused by the display. "Why, Gremor. I didn't know you cared so much."
His servant looked back at him, sincere pleading in his face. "Saldorian Feverrette, what will this quest give you beyond the pain of losing it in the end?"
Placing a firm hand on his shoulder Dorian chuckled. "Answers, Gremor. The girl can give me answers."
"Eh." Forvant shoved his way to the door. "Out of the way, old man, light is burning."
"But Sire! There has already been one attempt on your life today. Do you not sense the danger?" Gremor moved from the door, avoiding Forvant as though the man were plagued.
Dorian winked at Gremor. "That's half the fun," he said and left with Forvant.
They took the servants passages out of the manor. His guide kept a stalwart watch on corners, making certain the way was clear before allowing Dorian to follow. At first glance Dorian had thought the precautions bordered on paranoia, but when they had to press tight against a wall to avoid several Delgora Watchmen he began to understand. What Reonne lacked in Talent she made up for in well-paid man power. By the time they'd exited the manor - through the kitchens, no less - a light drizzle had begun.
Raindrops drummed against the large, round leaves that were prominent in Delgora. It seeped into the back of his collar, doused his hair as he followed Forvant through the town. The man took a quick route that brought them within the cover of the jungle-forest without much preamble. Then their path took them on an upward climb that forced Dorian to steady himself more than once. Dorian took the silence between them to mean that Forvant still held no trust for him.
It was just as well. Dorian didn't trust him either. If he was in league with the Bedim then there was no loyalty in the man.
After the better part of an hour Forvant stopped.
Dorian moved to stand beside him. They were mid-way up the mountainside, positioned on the edge of a clearing. The mountain range mimicked that of a clawed hand, a thousand waterfalls cascading down the cliffs, roaring their way into a dark, churning lake. The Wild was present here, he could feel it. Dangerous, barely tempered power swirled with the water. The trees bordering the lake held a greener tint than those in town, adding to the sense of untamed menace that hovered in the air.
"Fates," he murmured.
When he looked back Forvant had gone. The lake set him on edge so he turned his mind to locating his guide. Calling out got him nowhere; if the man was in ear shot he was not answering. Searching the ground for footprints, Dorian located the direction he believed the man had gone. He became so engrossed in following the footprints that he did not realize he had walked himself directly into the clearing.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up in warning.
Dorian stopped his progression and found his hilt with one hand. The lake was too close for comfort.
"You should not be here," a small, strange voice called to him.
Dorian turned towards it, finding before him a boy with pale hair and paler features. There was a light blue rim around the boy's mouth that unsettled him and a peculiar dark tint to his eyes.
"I'm searching for my friend," Dorian said, unwilling to release his hilt.
"He is not here."
"Did you see where he went?"
The boy cocked his head to the side, a movement that only added to the oddity of the child's features. After a moment he shook his head.
"What is your name?" Dorian asked him.
The boy looked beyond him, towards the lake. "You should not be here," he said again.
Dorian glanced at the lake, spotting that he was only a few short paces from the shore. He took a step back in defense and noticed that the boy was gone. Fully alarmed now, Dorian searched the clearing for the child, unable to locate him. He lost all track of time and somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew he was being lured into the Wild. He needed to get away from the lake.
But the boy had been so young. He should not have been out here on his own.
"Lord Feverrette!"
That was Elsie's voice, close at hand but still distant from him.
"Lord Feverrette!"
He turned three times before he located her, standing a few feet from the shore.
"Lord Feverrette, I must ask for you to come away from the lake." She said with authority in her voice.
He looked down to find himself ankle deep in the water.
That wasn't right. He hadn't been this close to the water.
"Did you see the boy?" He asked, taking one step out of the lake.
"I did, Milord. We will discuss it further when you come away from the lake."
Taking another step he felt the pull of the lake now, an invisible charm beckoning him to come back, not to leave. Dorian fastened his gaze on Elsie and forced himself to ignore it. She was wearing a new gown so her legs were covered. This disappointed him a little but he still managed to appreciate the many other attributes of the woman, the middle portion of her gown cinched around her waist, accenting hips and the curve of her upper body in such a way that a man would have to be dead cold not to notice her.
When he reached her side she breathed in relief and smacked his arm hard. "Are you daft?"
He nodded toward the trees, "I was looking for Forvant. He decided to leave."
"You cannot possibly have missed the fact that Witch-Eater Lake is a part of the Wild." She spun on her heel and marched back to the shade of the jungle. "Arrogant, irritating man! It almost had you."
Dorian followed her, unable to deny her assertion. The Wild was a terrible, quiet killer. It had lured him in without much of a fight on his part. The problem he had was with the boy. The Wild did not normally have the ability to manifest itself in the form of a person. It had taken him off guard, an issue he would not allow to happen again.
"The boy, who is he?" Dorian asked, trying to pull her off the rant of his stupidity.
"There is a reason why it is called 'Witch-Eater Lake', Lord Feverrette."
"Call me Dorian, please. I've no love of anyone who goes by that name." He watched as she moved to lean against the trunk of a tree. She hadn't seen to the wounds in her side. He could see that as she placed a ginger hand on the offending area and took three steadying breaths. "I can help you with that, you know."
Elsie straightened and turned to face him. "No, but thank you, it is not so bad."
"Liar. You can barely move and with how tight that bodice is on you it's no wonder. The fabric has to be scraping against the wounds." He moved toward her again. "Have you got someplace private where I can do this?"
"I do," she said with a note of curt disapproval. "Not that we will be going there. After this morning I can see that I haven't the smallest amount of control around you."
Dorian couldn't stop the grin, which she glared at. He tried hard to stop smiling. "I promise to be a gentleman. You can tell me about this Witch-Eater Lake while I do it. That should keep my mind off other things."
"No."
"Shall I wander back into the lake then?" Dorian turned to go.
"No!" She grasped his arm.
He paused, his joking manner gone. At the shore of the lake the little boy was bent over, struggling to tip a large rock toward the water. There was an "otherliness" about him that he hadn't been able to see up close. It shimmered around him, bending the light, echoing the form of the boy. Dorian was staring at a ghost.
The hair on his arms went rigid. "Who is he?"
"His name is Baldemar Delgora, the son of House Witch Malene Delgora." Elsie's grip on his arm loosened but didn't fully let go. "The whole family had been out checking the Warding Pillars around Delgora, making sure that the people were safe from the Wild. There were heavy rains that year." She pointed up at the mountain face. "Do you see there?"
He tried to follow her direction. After a few moments he spotted a switchback cut into the face of the mountain. It disappeared under several waterfalls but made its way to the base of the lake.
"The road was not safe. The rains loosened the ground and there was a mudslide. They say the House Witch was the first to die, her body was crushed under the roll of the carriage and she was unable to save her family." Elsie sighed. "Baldemar and Audric, the father, both drown in the lake. No House Witch has been able to remove the Wild from this lake ever since."
"But we are within Civilized Borders still. It should be tame."
"What should be and what is are always at odds, Milord." She released his arm and moved away from him, touching her side in pain.
"Take me to this private place, Nessa." He stepped after her, purposefully using her fake name. "Or I swear on my life that I will strip you bare right here and heal you."
She flushed straight up to her ears. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me." Dorian kept walking when she had stopped, closing the gap between them. "Either way, it's getting done."
Her mouth opened in surprise and he leaned closer. There were a dozen reasons why he was being so adamant. Focusing on her removed the irritating thought that the Wild had nearly drowned him. He should have known better. Then, there was the prospect of touching her again, which was appealing to both himself and his magic. And, of course, it would provide the opportunity to discuss several questions warring in his mind about the Bedim, Delgora, and the Vicaress. It had not escaped him that she was in a far better place to aid him in his hunt for the Bedim than he had originally assumed.
"Under one condition," she stammered.
"Name it."
"You have to answer one question, fully and honestly."
"Done."
She nodded, turned away from him, and marched back into the jungle. He hesitated for a moment, watching the stiff square of her shoulders as she huffed her way up the steep incline. His eye twitched when he realized what he'd just agreed to. Then, resigning himself to the fact that they would both need to trust in this situation, he began to follow.
***
Elsie didn't bother taking a twisty, odd path to the ruins. She'd asked Forvant to make sure the man would not be able to find the Lake again on his own so the likelihood of him being able to make his way to the ruins from the Manor was very slim. Besides which, the old road to the former Delgora Manor was so overgrown with vegetation that one would have to know where they were going to find it again. They arrived very quickly and though Feverrette took a moment to survey the old manor she was too agitated to explain anything further. She hurried into the cover of one of the mostly-intact rooms.
History could not locate when or why the old manor had been abandoned. Half-crumbled walls were interrupted by trees and brush, making it hard to determine its precise size. There were no signs of warfare or fire - something Elsie had searched for as a girl. There was just the growth of healthy forest, quiet and still without the danger of the Wild.
He stepped into the room and his nearness did something to her that was fast becoming addictive. Fates! There was another kind of danger present. This was going to be impossible. Whatever natural attraction there was between them was being amplified by her Talent. Something deeper was happening, something that had not been in any of the Archives she'd searched. She brushed a hand against her skirt, felt the lump of the gas can against her thigh and brought her mind back to the urgency of the moment.
Artimus was going to kill this man if she didn't do something.
"I'll need just the wounded side of you exposed," he said. "I can wait outside while you prepare."
She nodded, mute from a sudden jolt that had gone through her when he'd said the word exposed. No doubt he'd done it on purpose; that smooth, devilish smile of his making her blush all the more as he turned and left the room again.
"Damn, damn, double damn." She muttered to herself as she undid her laces and struggled from her bodice. He was distracting her from her purpose. The House Seat was in jeopardy. He had to leave, whether her Talent wanted it or not.
It took her extra time to get undressed due to the splinters in her side. The amber colored round gown she'd chosen to wear only made things more difficult. A part of her wondered if Feverrette was taking advantage of her ignorance, but she didn't have the time to get irritated. Whether he was or wasn't didn't matter in the long run. She'd need him close before she released the gas, just to be certain he went unconscious and seduction was certainly one way she could accomplish this. Unpinning her hair, she let it fall over her shoulders, shrouding her and giving a small amount of modesty. It wasn't until he paused at the doorway, apparently frozen by the sight of her, that she realized taking her hair down might have some other implication to it.
"This is going to be a bit more difficult than I had imagined," he commented and moved to sit beside her.
"I'm relying on a considerable amount of self-control from you, Sir."
"Dorian," he said. "And it's going to take an immeasurable amount of self-control."
Because she needed to get him to leave she suppressed her smile. Flirting would be too obvious, he'd know she was doing something and once again, she didn't have time to have to deal with this anyway. With a deep, steadying breath she prepared herself for what was coming. Until that morning she had never been healed by a Talented before. It hurt a
good deal worse than she had expected, but the end result was far better. Traveling with these sorts of wounds would be difficult, and she needed to have all of her faculties when she attended the Arms deal.
He surveyed her side first, clucking his tongue with disapproval. "I am sorry that I did not rescue you from the explosion."
"You got Bryva and Leona out. I'm more grateful for that than you could know."
His right palm covered the wounded area, while his other hand moved to steady her at the waist. There was a distinct sense of intimacy in the movement, and she almost pulled away when she began to feel the mending. It started with an itching, tingling sensation, and then as the healing moved deeper she felt the ache of it all. She must have made a noise because he murmured something to her in response. It took a moment for her to catch it.
"It'll be over soon," he promised.
And it was. The ache receded, followed by a dizzying wave of relief. Lightheaded, she leaned against him, and he pulled her close, murmuring his apologies. Elsie relaxed into his chest, her temple resting just at his collarbone as she gathered herself back from the pain. His hand played through her hair in an absent sort of way and she shivered when his fingers met with the bared skin of her back. The movement was natural, thoughtless, and she could feel the magic in him thrumming just under his skin. Her own magic seemed to purr at the contact, lulling her further into a sense of security.
"Are you all right now?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes, thank you."
"Good, because I wanted to ask you something about the lake," he paused but she knew where he was heading with his question. "If the House Witch, son and Consort all died ... where was the Heir Apparent?"
"There wasn't one. They had a son first. Lady Malene was pregnant when she died."
"How did Delgora survive?"
"Vicaress Astrea sat on the House Seat on the day of ascension and parlayed with Magic. She asked him to send a suitable House Witch to protect the people from the Wild." His fingers were drugging. She closed her eyes and finished the story. "Magic said he had already found a suitable House Witch for Delgora. That he had watched her care for the people during the tragedy and knew that this was the person he wanted as House Witch. So he imbued Astrea with the Talent and placed her in power."
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