His stroking paused and his hand fell away, "That's what you think Vicaress Reonne is trying to do, isn't it."
Statement, not a question, he was too quick by half. She nodded. "Something like that." She pulled away from him, slipping her arms into the sleeves of her gown again.
"But Magic would see through a lie like that." Feverrette frowned, debating.
Elsie waited, knowing he would come to the same conclusion that she had years ago.
"Leona," he said.
"Leona," she confirmed.
"Does the girl know?"
Elsie shook her head. "Not that we can tell. For my part, I fully trust her. The girl has plans of her own. She wants to marry a Hemic Knight from Lorant."
He relaxed again, meeting her eyes with an intensity that made her blush. "There is one problem," he said.
"That is?"
"She would have to kill you first."
"Until recently she already thought I was dead." Elsie gave him a rueful smirk.
"Yes," he said. "My fault, I do apologize. She just irritated me a bit."
Her Talent urged her forward, wanting more contact with him. It was strong enough that she had to close her eyes to keep from looking at him. For all his terrible hair and miserable garments, Dorian Feverrette had a certain appeal that she couldn't deny. His eyes reminded her of the sky just before a rainfall, moody and oppressive all at once. Fates knew he had a mouth that was magic all its own. Just thinking about their kiss made her flush.
But none of this was helpful to her cause. She needed answers, and she needed him to leave. Opening her eyes again she found him staring at her with a puzzled and patient look.
"Why does Artimus Berkuska want you dead?" She asked.
CHAPTER TEN
Dorian had suspected this would be her question. He'd suspected it but he'd hoped he was wrong. It was his own damn fault for agreeing to the deal. Pulling completely away from her, he turned and rested an elbow on his knee. For endless seconds he stayed there, poised, silent, warring with himself. From the corner of his eye he could see her fixing herself, trying to maintain a small amount of modesty under her current situation. The temptation to reach over and drag her into another kiss was strong, too strong. He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered something unhealthy about himself.
"You gave your word," she said.
"I know."
"Are you going back on it?"
He shot her a look that quieted her.
"It's complicated." Dorian resigned himself to the task of telling her what she wanted to know. "We went to school together as boys. We were good friends for a time, actually. We used to be unbeatable in the Winter Tournament." He paused to explain. "When two Talented enter the Teams division at Tournament they have to fully trust each other. They have to know what the other will do and think on instinct ... otherwise the tournament grounds can be tragic. And I do mean fatal at times."
"Four Talented battling each other, bending time, calling on magic," Elsie lifted an eyebrow at him. "I can imagine how it would be dangerous."
"No, you can't." He smiled, a little sad at the truth. "Not unless you've experienced it. And the Bedim don't fight together. They fight alone, so all of your training has been in solitude." She was quiet for a moment before he began again. "When one member of the Team is wounded, so is the other. It is a completely unified event. You have to know how your partner will react to the pain. You have to trust them not to retreat. So when I tell you that Artimus and I were unbeatable ... I mean we were closer than most."
"What changed?"
Dorian rubbed his face, sighed and tried to find something other than her to look at. For the better half of her life she had been trained by his friend. She had trusted him. He wasn't certain of the dynamics between the Bedim and their protege's but he imagined this was not going to be easy for her to hear. Students and teachers tended to have a unique sort of bond. There was a large part of him that was bitter enough to be glad that he could shatter the image she had of the man.
"I fell in love with his sister, Lorelei. She was a Second Born, I was a Second Born ... we thought the match was a good one. Her family had been prepared to accept me. Artimus had seemed taken off guard by the prospect, but I was too wrapped up in my own happiness to really see what was happening." Moonlight made its way through a hole in the roof, spilling out over her skin, making her hair a sharp contrast to the milkiness of her complexion. Without thinking, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her shoulder and wondered when the sun had gone. "Alois Orzebet, my half brother from my Father, learned of the intended union. He and I had been enemies the moment I was born. My parentage is complicated ... "
"I know."
He smirked. "You've visited an Archive, I see."
"I had to. I saw a threat in Artimus."
Dorian shifted on the pebbled ground, grateful that there was at least a small amount of his history that he didn't need to explain. It had been hard enough attending school with his two half-brothers, having to defend himself to his friends on why the boys hated him. His mother hadn't hidden the situation from the world so the affair was perhaps one of the most popular items of gossip among the Great Houses.
"Well, Alois petitioned Lorelei's family for her hand. Since he is legally a First Born they rejected my offer and took his instead. I was furious, as you can imagine. Lorelei was heartbroken. And then ... then I made a very large mistake." Dorian lowered his gaze to the darkness around his feet. "I convinced Lorelei to run away with me, but Artimus knew me too well. We didn't get very far before he caught up to us."
He could remember the blur of movement, the explosion of several trees and the shifting of a mountain under the weight of their battle. There was no way he could possibly describe it all so he didn't try. "The fight was hard and long. Lorelei ... she tried to stop us. Artimus got me cornered and then she leapt in the way." He shook his head. "They say we males are the protectors of our Race. We are here to make certain the House Witches, the females, remain safe. What Lorelei did that day proved that the females don't need our help. It's quite the opposite, in fact."
Elsie was watching him with uncertainty. She must have known the story was a tragic one, still, he could hear the difference in her breathing as he continued the tale.
"The power that came out of her was so intense that it knocked the Warding Pillars out of place for three miles in every direction. Trees shattered. I swear to you, the very ground beneath our feet went off kilter. It knocked both of us down."
He could still see her, dead center between them, the aftermath of her attack still rippling out from her, pale hair floating about her head as though she were submerged. It had hurt like hell.
"Things got a little weird after that," he said. "Artimus changed his attack. He ... he fought his sister. He attacked a Female. All the while screaming that ... " Dorian swallowed hard, "screaming that he wouldn't let her take me."
Giving her a moment to process what he'd just said, he tried to read her face. There was a deep debate going on in her mind, but for the life of him he couldn't see what she was thinking. Rocks were easier to read than this woman.
"He was in love with you," she voiced at last.
Dorian nodded.
They sat in silence for a moment. He imagined she was trying to decide if she wanted to know any more. Then she pulled her knees into her chest and hugged her legs, keeping her garments carefully arranged as she did so. "How did it end?"
"Badly." Heaving another sigh he stretched his shoulders. "Her mother came, accompanied by her father just as Artimus really fell into his rant, expressing how long he had been in love with me. How long he had been waiting for me to realize our bond went deeper than friendship. Lorelei wouldn't let me fight him any further, she kept getting in my way, blocking my ability to get through her. I don't ... I don't think Artimus meant to kill her. I think he just wanted her to step aside, but he bent time, rushed at her with his sword and caught her directly in her c
hest."
He could still hear her body hitting the ground. Dorian shut his eyes, trying to move past the moment. It had taken him years to throttle the memories into a dark corner of his mind; years. But they were open now, open and verbal. He could hear himself finish the story but it was as though he were far away, watching the testimony rather than giving it.
"Lady Berkuska banished Artimus from home. She couldn't bear the thought of executing him for the death of her own daughter. I was severely reprimanded for my part ... Although I was not banished per say, it was strongly suggested that I never return." Dorian sighed. "So in one night I managed to kill the woman I loved, estrange my best friend from his family, and sever all ties I had to the man I knew as Artimus Berkuska."
"That certainly explains the animosity," Elsie murmured.
He watched her shift into a better position, cinching the strings on her bodice in one fluid motion. She was as exotic as the land surrounding them, the curve of high cheekbones moving seamlessly into a jaw that seemed tense more often than not; as though she were constantly reigning herself in. Her mouth quirked at the corners in an attractive sort of way, leaving a wayward dimple at the right side. Distracted by the dimple, Dorian felt his Talent urging him to lean forward and kiss it. He took a moment to put his Talent into place, reminding himself that she was a Bedim even if she was also Elsie Delgora.
"Why would you not just kill Reonne and be done with this?" He asked at last.
Her head lifted in a sharp motion. Dorian smirked in spite of himself, pleased to see he had startled her either with the brash question or just the sound of his voice.
"It's complicated," she said.
"You're a Bedim Knight. There's no complication to the Bedim. You take a contract, kill the mark and get paid."
Her smirk deepened, accenting the dimple more. "You're an intelligent man, Feverrette, but I fear I'm going to have to point out the obvious," she leaned back on her palms. "If I were merely a Bedim Knight, you would be dead, and I would be quite a bit wealthier."
Dorian arched an eyebrow at her and smiled in dark humor, "So sure of yourself are you?"
The moonlight caught a golden glimmer in her eyes as her smirk turned into a full, sensual and dangerous smile. He felt for a moment as though he were gazing at some feral, cat-like creature and not a mere woman. His mind tripped and corrected itself; not a mere woman. Without doubt this was Elsie Delgora, Heir Apparent and Bedim Knight.
The combination froze him in place.
The only reason a House-Wide Bedim hunt had not been started was because their magic was paltry in comparison with the full nobility of Magnellum. Elsie - if she remained a Bedim Knight - tipped those scales.
He scrambled to get his mind back into their conversation. He could dissect the issues of the Bedim Heir later. "Why not seek the aid of another House then?"
She grew very still. Her small form bunched up tight before him, coiled to spring at any moment. He had an idea of what she was going to say before it was spoken. "I did," her eyes met with his and held. There was an intensity there that frightened him a bit. "I was turned away on account of my very common, untalented appearance."
***
Elsie pushed the conversation back to the direction she needed it to go. There was no need to explain the length of her travels for aid; he seemed to understand with the silence that settled between them. It was a nice understanding, for as long as it could last. And since she was about to douse him with a sleeping gas she doubted his good humor would remain.
"I find myself in a position to ask you for aid," she said.
"I'm listening," he gave her a lazy half-smile and hooked one knee with his arm.
"I need you to escort Lady Leona to Winter Tournament."
There wasn't even a pause of consideration. She hadn't really expected one, either. Dorian scoffed and shook his head, "Not for a House Seat."
Given the contracts on his life Elsie couldn't blame him. Still, it would have been significantly easier if he'd agreed. Taking a deep breath she shifted for easier access to her pocket, felt the lump of the canister sink into her thigh, and forced herself to relax. He watched her with the barest smirk on his face and continued to speak; "I haven't lived this long by being foolish enough to walk through noble society."
"What if I fixed your contracts for you?"
His eyes narrowed, flints of steel-grey catching the moonlight that played through the room. "You can't. Only the original contractors can remove a death mark."
"What if I could?" Elsie slid her hand into the deep pocket of her skirt. The brass hook on the canister warmed under her touch. There would be half a minute where she would not be able to see him once she activated the gas. Her mind ticked off the escape routes - and there were several in the crumbly place - trying to find the best spot for her to wait out the gas.
"Why would you ask this of me?" Dorian surprised her. She'd been expecting more fight and less curiosity.
"You are a problem. Reonne wants you in love with Leona and will not let her go to the tournament while you are here."
"And what does Winter Tournament get you?" Dorian frowned. "Don't expect me to believe you're asking me this out of benevolence. Something else is at stake."
"You're very perceptive, Lord Feverrette."
"Not perceptive enough, it seems," his frown deepened. "If you'd trust me with a little more information, I might be able to help you in other avenues."
Elsie snorted, "Trust? My Lord, I met you three days ago. You're lucky you're still alive with what you know already."
She pulled the pin on the canister and lifted it from her pocket. With a quick movement she flung it at him and leapt for the hole in the ceiling. Her gown made the climb onto the roof a bit difficult, but she managed to pull herself up without her Talent. The murky gas bloomed in the center of the room, drifting up towards her. With a curse she was on the move again, half-rolling to the left until she met with the edge of the roof. The gas crept through the bared walls, spreading out into the jungle.
Covering her mouth and nose with one hand she leapt for the nearest tree, calling on her Magic for aid. She caught the sturdiest limb in reach and climbed until she was a safe distance from the billowing gas. The light skirts of her gown caught in several places, making a tearing sound that forced another curse from her.
"Two skirts in as many days," she muttered, inspecting the many rips through the cotton.
She should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
Feverrette dropped onto her branch, balancing with feline grace before launching at her. Elsie turned her body and allowed herself to fall to the next level. She had to duck again as he swiped a hand at her head.
Fates! He was fast.
In the next instant he'd swung from the higher level to just in front of her, shoving her body hard into the tree. "Damnit! I said I wanted to help!"
She panted a humorless laugh; "Yet you refused the one task I had for you."
"There have to be other ways I can help you."
Elsie got one foot levered against the tree trunk. "Just one," she said. "Stay out of my way!"
Pushing forward with her Talent, she tackled him, sending them flying through the air until they met with the rooftop again. She could hear the grind of his body against the fractured roof as they slid to a stop, inches away from the gaping hole. Elsie slid herself upward, straddling Feverrette and pinning him in one fluid movement. His body went rigid beneath her, either from shock or attraction, and she nearly faltered. Swinging a fist at his head she tried to call on her Talent again, but the magic would not answer. He caught her wrist, redirected the blow to just beside his head and hooked her left ankle with his leg. Realizing too late what he was about, Elsie was unprepared for the sudden flip of bodies.
Her back teetered over the edge of the hole, arching in a painful way and forcing her to crane her neck just to keep an eye on him. Feverrette kept her wrist and braced her body with his own, stopping her descent bac
k into the ruins. She caught the scent of lingering sleep gas and tried to shallow her breathing. Above her, with steely eyes flashing in agitation, Feverrette captured her other arm and pinned it to the roof.
"You are possibly the most aggravating woman I have ever been forced into contact with," he growled down at her. "But Fates preserve me if I'm going to walk away without answers." His grip adjusted, and she became aware of the highly intimate position they were in. "I'll give you full marks for creativity. I fell right into your ploy. Tell me now, is Artimus lurking about, wanting the kill for himself or were you planning on doing the honors?"
She snorted in spite of herself. "Artimus is a twit of a man and I wish he'd leap headlong into Witch-Eater Lake," she said through clenched teeth.
The angle of her body was making it a strain to keep her neck level. Blood rushed to her head with dizzying speed, and she began to feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat in her temples. Her Talent remained unresponsive to her plight, and Elsie realized that she might lose this fight.
"I have another theory," pebbles ground against the roof as he shifted to dangle more of her into the hole. "What if you want Reonne to win? What if you think Leona should be House Witch instead of you? Then you could keep your play at being a Bedim and leave these people to their own devices against the Vicaress."
Her Talent rose in defiance and she took her opportunity. With a shout of rage Elsie bent backward through the hole, shoving off with her feet and sending them hurtling into the ruins. They both landed in a crouch, facing each other, breathing in the haze of gas that was left.
Elsie's hand grazed over the ribs of her bodice, counting down until she found the needle hidden there. She wasn't certain what the effects would be to combine the gas with the opiate-lined needle, but she'd be damned if she let this fight go further. With her left hand she hitched up her skirts, lifting the hem out of the way of her feet.
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