Heart of Fire

by Kristen Painter

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. “This is who I am. The cold hearted assassin. You’ve made it clear you think me a beast, don’t be surprised when I act like one.”

  He finished buckling the belt and gave her one last look. “Would it have been the worst thing in the realm to give yourself to me? To be with a man who truly...” He leashed his tongue, unwilling to finish. What black magic did she possess to fill his head with such thoughts? He cared for no one.

  “My mother’s letter said I must remain chaste or lose my powers.”

  “If you believe that, you’re a foolish child. I know one thing. The men of Shaldar’s court will make short work of your precious chastity. Magewoman? Try mistress.” He yanked the door open.

  “Go ahead, leave. I’m used to being left. Why should you be any different?” Jessalyne said.

  Snarling, he slammed the door behind him.

  Jessalyne melted to the floor, unsure if crying or screaming would make her feel better. How dare he say those things to her? A deep, shuddering sob racked her body. What if he spoke the truth about the king’s court? She shook her head. It couldn’t be.

  Her hand went to the pendant around her neck. There was such heartache in his eyes. She realized suddenly what he had been about to say and her throat constricted. No. She would not cry over that wretched creature another time.

  Instead, she dressed in her tunic. A knock rang out and her first thought was of Ertemis. She answered, expecting an apology, but instead found the valets come to remove the tub and serve dinner.

  It took them a few trips to carry away the bathwater and Jessalyne sat looking out the window while she waited. She kept hearing his voice in her head. The more she thought about what he’d said, the more her blood rose.

  “My lady?” The steward called to her.

  Jessalyne turned. “Yes?”

  “Shall I serve dinner now or will you be waiting for your husband?”

  “You may serve me now.” Ignoring the raised eyebrows, she sat at the small table with her head high. The time had come for more than just a change of clothes. Her future lay in Shaldar City, not with some temperamental ex-assassin. Her mother would cringe that she’d felt affection for such a man.

  Making a concerted effort not to think about him, she ate her meal with great concentration, every bite studied and tasted thoroughly. She nibbled one of the chocolate cakes but her appetite for such things had disappeared.

  After dinner, she practiced her magic and discovered she could make both hot and cold spheres of flame. Still, no Ertemis.

  Exhausted from the day’s events and the knockdown with him, she got into bed. She was almost asleep when a raucous thumping on the door startled her. She opened it to find Ertemis, eyes glazed. He smelled like a tavern, ale and smoke and horses.

  “Miss me, princess?” He stumbled into the room, pulling at his shirt.

  She wrinkled her nose, backing away. “You’re sotted!”

  “Sotted with the softness of your skin...” He reached for her, just as he saw the remainders of dinner on the table. “Food! Fine idea. What have we?” He rummaged through the leftovers.

  “I’m going to bed.” She turned down the coverlet, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

  He whirled around, almost tripping himself. “That’s a wonderful idea.” He yawned, tugging at his shirt again but it caught in his belt and held tight. After some struggling, he realized the problem and unbuckled his belt, letting both sword and belt clatter to the floor.

  “What’s a wonderful idea?”

  He winked at her. “That innocent country act is very charming, lelaya.” He dropped into one of the dining chairs, causing it to scrape across the floor. Yanking his boots off, he set one in the middle of the table.

  “What are you rambling about? And why won’t you tell me what that word means?” She climbed under the covers, keeping an eye on him.

  Standing, he mumbled something she could not understand.

  “What did you say?”

  “Lelaya means heart of my heart.”

  Heart of my heart. The words echoed in her head. Even in his current state, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His hair spilled over his bare chest as he fumbled with the fastening on his trousers. Soused or not, he was a stunning sight.

  “What are you doing?” She watched him teeter backwards.

  In his attempt to undress, he fell back into the chair, nearly splintering it. At last, he drew his trousers off and stood up.

  Jessalyne’s eyes went wide. “Put your trousers back on, you sotted beast!”

  “Pet names for me already?” He flashed her a grin, clearly pleased with his own wickedness. “Better than Black Death, I s’pose.”

  “Put your clothes on right now!”

  “Stop looking.” At that, he laughed so hard he almost fell over.

  Jessalyne turned away, clamping her hand over her eyes.

  “Aye, small glimpses are best at first. I am told 'tis quite overwhelming to see all of me at once.”

  The bed sank as he sprawled next to her.

  “Let’s have a kiss before bed, hmmm?” He slurred. “So beautiful...” His fingers skimmed her arm.

  She stiffened at the touch that had so recently filled her with pleasure. How could he be so tender one moment and so wretched the next? She couldn’t take it any longer. Turning to face him, she snapped. “Stop this behavior or...or...I will set you on fire.”

  He blinked, reeling back at her words. Blank faced, he stared at her for a moment then erupted in laughter. “Saucy wench! Games, is it?” He swept her into his arms and made to kiss her.

  She cried out to him in her mind, begging him to stop.

  As if struck, he pulled back. “No need to yell, sweeting.”

  “Ertemis, please, this isn’t you. It’s the ale and your hurt feelings.” She held his face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hurt feelings? Assassins don’t have feelings, silly girl.” He went an odd shade of greenish grey. For a moment, she thought he might retch. “I would never hurt you, lelaya. Never.” Grabbing one of the bedposts, he hoisted himself up, lurched to the other side of the bed and collapsed face first onto the coverlet.

  She stared at the naked, besotted elf snoring beside her. In all her dreams of the future, never had she imagined this.

  Chapter Nine

  A bird twittered on the windowsill, waking Jessalyne. Yawning, she stretched and propped herself up on her elbows. Ertemis hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen.

  In the golden glow of firstlight, she studied him. Despite all that had passed between them the night before, she still found him fascinating. His luminous soot-dark skin and muscled curves mesmerized her and for once, she looked as much as she wanted. She was as bad as Corah. Pity, he was such a barbarian. She sighed. Did it matter if he was a barbarian? If not for her mother’s letter, she’d be curled around him, as naked as the day she was born. Wouldn’t she?

  Blushing at her bold thoughts, she slipped out of bed before she did something foolish. It wouldn’t do to have him wake up and find her hands tracing the runes along his spine, trailing down to cup his... Enough. She forced the thought out of her head.

  Breakfast would be here soon, and the room was a mess. She righted the chair he’d tipped over and snatched his tunic off a bedpost. His trousers were crumpled beneath the table. She laid his clothes over a chair on his side of the bed.

  One of his boots sat squarely in the tureen. She pulled it out and wiped off the traces of soup. Just as she put the pair by the door and leaned his sword against the wall, there were two sharp taps on the door. Breakfast had arrived.

  On her way to let the valet in, she yanked the bed curtains shut. No need for the man to see Ertemis lying there naked. Besides, she would never manage breakfast with the elf’s bare rump in plain sight. Her gaze lingered on the offending body parts. No, it simply would not do.

  Another sharp knock. She hurried to the door. “Q
uietly please,” she whispered. “He still sleeps.”

  The steward nodded and quickly removed the dinner dishes and laid the morning’s repast on the table. He gave her a short bow and left, shutting the door softly behind him.

  She poured a mug of tea. Her stomach grumbled. She lifted the platter covers to reveal honeycakes, slices of smoked eel, and baked eggs. How Ertemis slept through the aroma, she had no idea.

  Fixing a plate, she planned to bolt her breakfast, change out of her nightrobe then walk across the street to the clothiers she’d seen yesterday. Ertemis would undoubtedly snore the morning away. He showed no signs of rousing.

  She rummaged through her saddlebags for a pouch of coins, setting each of the heavy sacks on the table. The smallest she left on the table, hefting the others in her hands. Her gaze drifted to Ertemis again. There was one more thing to take care of before she left.

  * * *

  The clothier’s shop made mistress Chara’s seem pitiful. Jessalyne felt the country girl through and through. Trimmed with embroidery and lace, ribbons and velvet, the gowns kindled a longing in her for a life never known. She imagined the ladies in King Maelthorn’s court wore gowns just like these. She ran her hands over the beautiful fabrics, dreaming of days to come.

  “May I assist you?” A red-haired woman with a boy’s build approached her. Haughtiness dripped from her words like grease off a rasher of bacon.

  “Yes, thank you. I would like a dress.”

  I see.” The woman’s gaze swept over Jessalyne, stopping at her neckline. A thin smile crossed the woman’s lips. “That’s a lovely pendant you’re wearing. Let me select a few of our finer dresses for you to try, my lady.”

  She clapped her hands and a young girl scurried out from the back room. “Fetch the new gowns from Romman.” She turned back to Jessalyne. “Right this way, my lady.”

  The young clerk brought dresses out one by one for Jessalyne’s approval. Each one was more beautiful than the next, but the last dress surpassed them all.

  “Ohh, that is most lovely,” Jessalyne said. “I will try that one, please.”

  In a flurry of fabric, the sales women undressed her and fit her into the gown. They led her to a tall mirror on the rear wall.

  Made of luminous sea-green silk, the dress cut low and straight across Jessalyne’s bosom. Belled sleeves revealed snug undersleeves of indigo. Matching vines and leaves of gold crept around the hem and up the front edges of the over skirt, split down the middle to show the underskirt of indigo silk. Ribbons of indigo crisscrossed her narrow waist.

  “Of course, the look is not complete without the matching slippers and waist belt.” The red haired woman tallied the goods on her fingers, smiling. “I’m sure a lady of your bearing will want every piece necessary.”

  Still focused on the image in the mirror, Jessalyne nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  The woman sent the young clerk to fetch the items and fussed about, smoothing the skirt and chattering on about the fabric quality until the girl returned.

  “Ah, here we are.” After buckling the belt around Jessalyne’s waist, she slid Jessalyne’s feet into the deep green leather slippers. “Lovely. Just lovely. You’ll be wearing it, I assume? Pity to put your other...outfit back on,” she sniffed.

  “Yes, yes of course.” Jessalyne couldn’t look away from the mirror. She barely recognized herself. Because she was looking at the king’s magewoman in training.

  “Now, about your hair. We have some combs—”

  “No. I wear it down.” Let that foul halfling be reminded of what he’d no longer have.

  “As you wish.” The woman barked at the young clerk to wrap Jessalyne’s things. “Then there just remains the rather tiresome matter of the bill.”

  Jessalyne opened her money pouch, accidentally spilling two gold coins onto the shop floor.

  The young clerk’s eyes widened. The woman snatched up the coins, smiling. “That will settle your bill nicely.”

  The innkeeper nodded to Jessalyne when she returned. “My compliments on your purchase, mistress elf. You are as lovely as the isle of Elysium is purported to be. Most sheyneya,” he said.

  She gave him a curious look.

  “I apologize, my grasp of your mother tongue is weak at best. I thought sheyneya elven for ‘beautiful’.”

  “We accent the end not the middle,” she bluffed. “Very kind of you.” She hurried back to the room before he got a better look at her ears. Pretending was tricky business.

  Fitting the key in the lock, she opened the door. Dressed in trousers only, Ertemis stood at the window. The runes along his spine shone softly. His breakfast sat uneaten on the table. She shut the door. He said nothing.

  She set her bundled outfit on the bed and gathered up her other things, packing them into her saddlebags. She struggled for something to say to him, desperate to ease the tension. “What does sheyneya mean?”

  He answered without turning. “It’s pronounced shey’naya. It means radiantly beautiful.”

  Well, he was speaking to her. “Thank you.” She packed the last saddlebag and stood by the bed, wondering what to do next. The silence didn’t bother her so much as the reason for it. At the very least, he owed her an apology.

  “I’m ready to go.” Perhaps that would rouse him out of his foul mood. Nothing. “I’m ready to go,” she raised her voice.

  “I heard you the first time.” He rubbed his brow. ”Must you shout?”

  “I wasn’t shouting.” This was going to be a fun day.

  * * *

  Ertemis had watched her crossing the street below, sure he was prepared for the sight of her. He wasn’t. Even his aching head didn’t diminish her beauty. Shey’neya, indeed.

  Saladan’s trousers, he was such a fool. She should hate him for how he’d treated her. He groaned at the ache in his head and the anguish in his heart. She belonged at court, not his side.

  Mortified by how he’d acted, he still thought it best not to apologize. Let her hate him. Leaving her in Shaldar City would sting less if she wanted nothing to do with him. It tore at him not to gather her into his arms and beg her forgiveness, but he was done making a fool of himself.

  “Well?” She stared at him.

  “Aye, the gown suits you,” he groused. Her shapeless tunic and overvest had a new appeal.

  “I asked if you were ready to go. I would like to leave sometime today.” Jessalyne’s eyes sparkled with irritation.

  Good. The more she despised him, the less this would hurt. He hoped. Scowling at her without answering, he went to get his tunic. She backed up as he came toward her, skirting around the table to pour a cup of tea. Her hand shook as she lifted the teapot.

  So that was it. She was finally afraid of him. “Don’t worry.” The fabric muffled his voice as he pulled his tunic on. “I’ve learned my place.” He continued dressing, his back to her. “I said I would not touch you again and I meant it.” He turned and looked at her directly. “Even if you beg.”

  “I’m not afraid of you and I wouldn’t beg you for water if I were burning in Hael,” she snapped.

  He threw both their packs over his shoulder. “I’ll be sure to remember that when I see you there.” Grinding the heel of his boot into the floor, he moved toward the door without waiting for her.

  She charged after him, muttering under her breath. When he stopped at the desk, she stormed past and went outside to wait. He paid the innkeeper, watching through the window as a groomsman brought Dragon and Petal round. Jessalyne mounted, ready to be on her way.

  Ertemis dawdled inside until her frustration became evident. From the hard crease of her mouth to the tapping of her fingers on the saddle, she looked sufficiently tired of waiting.

  He walked outside. “Get down.”

  “What?”

  “Did I stutter? I have to put the saddlebags on.” He didn’t need her to get down to attach the bags but she wouldn’t know that. Besides, getting her off the saddle kept distance between them.


  She dismounted, sighing loudly. Standing with her arms crossed, she watched him work.

  “Done.” Ertemis lit up onto his saddle. “Let’s go. I’m tired of waiting for you.”

  Her mouth dropped, a low growl rumbling out of her as she climbed back onto Petal. “Beast.”

  “Princess.”

  “Oaf.”

  “Brat.”

  “Brat? You…you…”

  The urge to kiss her nearly unhorsed him. The angry sparks in her eyes made her more beautiful than ever. “Come now, surely you can think of better names for such a wretched creature as myself. Killer of babes, perhaps? Nay, too wordy. Dunderhead? Perhaps not, as I am, after all, quite clever. Boor? Aye, that would work nicely. Go ahead, give it a try.”

  She glared daggers. “Incorrigible reprobate.”

  He grinned. “Now, then, I knew you could do better.”

  She ignored him until they left the confines of town, where she drew her dagger to check what direction it indicated. “Stay on this road.”

  “We’ll reach Shaldar City today.” Ertemis said.

  “Good.” She kneed Petal, leaving him behind.

  His stomach churned like a boy on his first battle line. He would never see her again after today and she would loathe him for the rest of her life. It was for the best. What life could he offer her? Why did she have to smell so good? He tried to think of anything but her.

  The man who disgraced his mother had once lived in Shaldar City. Concentrating on how he would punish the blackguard once he found him, Ertemis lost himself in thoughts of revenge.

  * * *

  Jessalyne’s joy at reaching Shaldar City faded as she realized Ertemis would be leaving her there. She would never see him again. Not that he cared. Sorrow welled up at the thought. She glanced back at the angry set of his jaw. Did he have to make it so obvious how much he despised her? He would be rid of her soon enough. Maybe that would make him happy. She know it would make her happy to be rid of him. Happy to be rid of him. She repeated the phrase over and over. It wasn’t very convincing.

  “What did you say?” Ertemis pulled along side.