They wandered in and out of the shops. Jessalyne bought sticks of shortbread dipped in chocolate from a bakery.
“I can’t believe how yummy this is,” Fynna mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. “Chocolate is the most best thing I have ever tasted.”
“I agree,” Jessalyne said. “I only just tried it for the first time on my journey here.” She held up a brown paper sack full of chocolate biscuits. “Hopefully, these will last more than a day.”
She bought soft cotton sheets for their mattresses, several colors of hair ribbons, lavender-scented candles, and two bars of good, fragrant soap.
She bought dinner from a street vendor. They found an empty bench, and unwrapped the rough paper holding their meals.
“I never knew shopping could make you so starved.” Fynna took a bite of crunchy fried trout.
“Truthfully, I’ve never shopped so much in my life, but I like it,” Jessalyne said.
They finished and Jessalyne wondered if they should turn back, but Fynna seemed to be having such a good time so they continued on. As they were passing a shop window, a handsome linen shirt caught her eye. She stopped to take it in. Bleached pure white, it had trailing vines embroidered around the neck in silver. Ertemis would look so handsome in a shirt like that. She imagined him in it. Then out of it.
“That’s a man tunic,” Fynna stated.
“I know. I want to buy it anyway.”
Fynna furrowed her brow. “For who?”
“No one.” Before she changed her mind, she grabbed Fynna’s hand and pulled her into the shop. The shirt was paid for, wrapped up and added to the other bundles without Jessalyne trying to figure out the point of buying clothing for a man she’d never see again. It was too painful to think that way. Better to imagine him as away for a while than gone for good.
On the long walk back to the castle, Jessalyne stayed quiet, content to let Fynna talk. It was not until they opened the door to their quarters that Jessalyne spoke.
“Oh, look at it all!”
The boys had finished delivering and setting up all the furniture and household goods promised by Mistress Wenda. Transformed from bare to beautiful, the room looked nothing like it had when they left.
Atop the lush carpet, the canopied bed boxes were placed against opposite walls. Folded coverlets lay on each mattress, next to a feather pillow. A rich tapestry hung on the wall between the beds with a carved wood table holding candlesticks beneath it. Two lovely upholstered chairs sat paired with a small game table off to one side.
Jessalyne dropped all her packages except for the sheets. She unwrapped them and threw Fynna’s onto her bed. “Here, make your bed and then we’ll put the rest away.”
When that task was completed, the pair laid out the rest of their purchases. Fynna put her new tunics in the wardrobe and then lit the lanterns on their stands.
Jessalyne unwrapped the shirt she’d purchased for Ertemis and sat on the bed holding it in her lap, stroking her fingers across the soft fabric.
Fynna watched her. “Why won’t you tell me who you bought that for?”
Sighing, Jessalyne shrugged. “He isn’t in my life anymore.”
“But you bought him a shirt.” Fynna looked confused.
“I know...I didn’t say it made sense.” Jessalyne rolled the black pearl between her fingers, staring at the shirt again.
“Love never does.”
“What did you say?” Jessalyne’s head snapped up.
“I said love never does make sense.”
“I’m not in love with him.” Jessalyne shook her head.
“You bought a shirt for a man who isn’t in your life no more but you aren’t in love with him? I guess he isn’t in love with you, either.”
“He’s definitely not in love with me.”
“Where’d you get that?” Fynna pointed at Jessalyne’s neck.
“What?”
“The pendant you can’t quit touching. Did you buy that for yourself?”
“He gave it to me.” Jessalyne bite her lip, remembering the day he’d put the necklace on her. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his fingers brush her skin.
“So, he doesn’t love you but he gave you a necklace worth a whole heap.” Fynna put her hands on her hips. “Makes perfect sense to me. Humans.”
“What do you mean a whole heap?”
Fynna sat next to her on the bed. “The amethyst alone is something, but the pearl...” She raised her eyebrows. “That’s a black Thrassian pearl, biggest I’ve ever seen. Rare and real expensive.”
Jessalyne looked sideways at her. “How do you know all that?”
Fynna shrugged. “I’ve lived in the castle long enough and seen enough nobles showing off to know a bit about this and that.” She smiled broadly. “Plus I eavesdrop a lot on Salena and her chickens when they don’t know it.”
Jessalyne laughed. “Really? What else do you know?”
“I know he probably does love you and if he’s like most men, he’ll come back for a woman he loves.”
Closing her eyes, Jessalyne sighed deeply and shook her head. “I don’t think so, Fynna. He barely said a word to me when we parted.”
“Maybe he’s not the talkative type.”
“We quarreled the day before.” A single tear burned down her cheek, her voice cracking. She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t love him. I loved my mother and she died when I was little. I wanted my father to love me but I scared him away. If I love Ertemis, he’ll never come back either.”
Fynna put her arm around Jessalyne. “Don’t judge him by your past. That belongs to you, not him.”
Jessalyne wiped her eyes. “You really think he loves me?”
Fynna nodded. “Men give cheap jewels to the women they want to bed and expensive ones to the women they intend to keep.”
Jessalyne smiled. “You certainly are a wealth of information.” She laughed. “No jest intended.”
Fynna lit one of Jessalyne’s new lavender candles. She started a small fire in the fireplace and hung a kettle to boil for tea. Jessalyne folded the shirt and tucked it away on her side of the wardrobe. She splayed her hand across the fabric before shutting the armoire doors, her mind elsewhere.
They spent the rest of the evening playing Fryst on their new game table, eating chocolate biscuits and drinking tea. They kept the conversation to castle gossip and the day’s shopping. Finally giving in to sleep, they crawled between their new cotton sheets as the moon crossed the midnight line.
Jessalyne dreamed of Ertemis.
His arms wrapped around her, fingers splayed over her ribs and belly. Pulling her close, he snuggled her against the warm muscled length of his body, nuzzling soft kisses onto her neck.
“Lelaya,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you so much. Missed touching your warm silky skin, missed kissing your sweet mouth.”
He turned her onto her back, his dark eyes wild with want. Smiling, he dipped his head and ran his tongue across her collarbone. His raven-black locks fell over his shoulders and dusted the swell of her breasts.
She moaned as goose flesh covered her skin. Her hands traveled up his arms to caress his bare chest.
“I love the color of your skin,” she whispered. Fingertips grazing his chest, she smiled at the feel of him. He growled in response.
Midnight eyes stormy with need, he kissed her hard, resting his elbows on other side of her. His hands tangled in her hair. He kissed her until tremors ran through her, shaking her...
Jessalyne woke with a start. Fynna was poised to jostle her one more time. “Get up! Mistress Sryka will be expecting you!”
She opened her eyes and yawned. “I was dreaming.”
“That explains the moaning.”
“What?” She swallowed her embarrassment.
Fynna held her hands up. “Hurry up and dress. If you’re late, Sryka will blame me, and I don’t want to be punished because you lolled in bed dreaming of a man you’re not even in love with.”
> Chapter Twelve
Jessalyne knocked at Sryka’s door. A voice called out, “Come in.”
She entered, knowing how sheepish she must look. “My apologies for my lateness, mistress. I fear the traveling wore me out more than I realized.”
Mistress Sryka sat at the long table that took up a great portion of the room. Thick tomes spread out around her. She hastily shut one she’d been reading as Jessalyne came closer.
“No harm done. Sit.” Sryka gestured to the chair across from her.
Jessalyne did as she was bid.
“Have you come into your powers?” Sryka’s eyes narrowed.
“I...I have some gifts but I don’t know their full extent.” Not a lie.
Sryka nodded. “We’ll begin your training today. In a week’s time, if you show yourself to be as gifted as I think you are, I will introduce you to the prince. After all, you’ll be serving him when I am gone. Eventually, I will perform a binding spell to bind your powers to you. Until then, I must restate that you are to remain chaste.”
“Yes, mistress.” Jessalyne couldn’t stop thinking about her dream.
“Are you listening to me, child? You’ll be meeting the prince of Shaldar, the heir to the throne. Does that mean nothing to you?” The look on Sryka’s face told Jessalyne it had better mean something.
“Yes, of course, it will be a great honor.” She feigned a smile.
The answer seemed to appease Sryka. “You’ll meet the king as well, if he lives long enough. The position of magewoman is thankless, but we serve the greater good.”
Another knock at the door and Fynna slipped in.
“Late as usual.” Sryka scowled. “Get to your chores.”
As soon as Sryka turned back toward Jessalyne, Fynna did her best silent imitation of Sryka, complete with wagging finger.
Jessalyne pinched herself to keep from laughing. Sryka was already on the next topic, gazing out the open door that led to the wall walk and talking about seasons and something else Jessalyne had not caught.
She did her best to look interested even though her attention truly belonged to an onyx-eyed, smoky-skinned elf.
The day passed quickly as she learned the difference between spells and charms, incantations and glamours, how to levitate small objects and the basics of scrying.
“There is so much to learn.” Jessalyne’s eyes swam from reading the cramped text in Sryka’s books.
“That’s enough for today. Put the books away before you go.”
“Thank you, mistress.” Jessalyne started shelving the multitude of volumes on the table.
“Have Fynna bring your dinner up to you. I would prefer you not take your meals in the hall just yet. For your own safety. I don’t want the men in the castle chasing after you like rutting dogs. Understood?”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Very well. Tomorrow morning then.”
Jessalyne nodded and finished shelving the last few books, glad to be done. She couldn’t concentrate any longer. A walk in the gardens might be just the thing to clear her head, but she didn’t want to leave Fynna behind. “Mistress Sryka, may Fynna go too? I have some things that need mending.”
Fynna shot Jessalyne an odd look.
“Very well.” Sryka didn’t look up from the herbs she was sorting.
Jessalyne winked at Fynna, and the two made their way down to their quarters.
“For a moment, I thought Sryka was rubbing off on you,” Fynna said.
“I didn’t want you to get stuck up there for the rest of the night. Besides, I want to walk in the gardens, and I hoped you would come with me.”
“I would love that! We should stop by the kitchens. I bet cook will give us a basket dinner so we can eat outside.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. Especially since Sryka doesn’t want me dining in the great hall.” Jessalyne rolled her eyes. “She seems to think the castle’s male population will find me irresistible.”
As they headed to the kitchen, Fynna nodded. “The old witch might actually have something there.”
Blooming with fragrant flowers, the gardens delighted Jessalyne. She named all the flowers and herbs she knew for Fynna. They walked the maze of rosemary hedges, inhaling the spicy woodsy scent. Near one of the large ponds they found a shaded spot. They sat and spread out their meal.
Jessalyne smoothed a linen napkin over her lap. “This is really lovely. I’m glad you came along.”
“I’m glad you got me away from Sryka. I hardly ever get to come out here. These gardens are the only good thing Prince Erebus has done, even if they are just to impress the women that cluster around him.”
“I’m supposed to meet him in a week’s time.” Jessalyne took a bite of cheese.
Fynna looked aghast. “What? Why?”
“Sryka thinks the future king should meet his future mage.”
“And she’s worried about the rest of the castle’s men? Hah! The prince is the one she should be worried about. They don’t call him the Prince of Hands for nothing.”
Jessalyne’s appetite waned. “The Prince of Hands?”
“I’m sure he won’t bother you,” Fynna reassured her. “His tastes run to a very different sort of woman, more like Salena and those twits.”
Jessalyne wanted to believe her but the seed of apprehension sprouted.
Fynna changed the subject. “Look!” She pointed to the pond. “The swans are out.”
A pair of elegant gray birds sailed across the still water, rippling the pond’s surface with swirling eddies.
“I’ve never seen swans before. They’re so beautiful.” An unnamed yearning wrapped around Jessalyne’s heart.
“Swans mate for life,” Fynna said.
Jessalyne followed the feathered beauties as they glided side by side. A thought occurred to her, and she turned to Fynna. Her voice was hushed when she spoke. “What do you know about elves?”
“Being pixie, probably more than most. What do you want to know?”
Jessalyne chose her words carefully. “I’m curious why the prince thinks they are such a threat. I saw some elves at home once. They came to the naming ceremony of a noble’s son. They were intimidating but not in a threatening way. They just seemed so very perfect and regal.”
“I don’t really know the whole story of what caused the rift between King Maelthorn and the elves. As for Prince Erebus, he just thinks any creature not human is below him.”
Fynna continued, “I’m sure the elves think the same of him, since they consider themselves a noble class and rightly so, I guess, considering they hold so much of Shaldar’s old magic. It’s said only the faerie have more.”
“The elves live on an island called Elysium. It’s impossible to find except for them. It’s supposed to be paradise and the source of their power. Sometimes they leave Elysium, the males, mostly, to visit other towns, but you won’t ever see them in Shaldar City, not since the alliance went bad all those years ago.”
Jessalyne nodded with interest. “That’s the only kind of elves?”
Fynna shook her head. “Well, there is sort of another, but most folk don’t like to talk about them. The dark elves. Born of mixing blood. The midwives that birth them are supposed to snuff them.” She shivered. “I’ve never actually seen one but people say there’s a few in the realm. They tell tales about one.”
She lowered her voice and narrowed her eyes. “They call him the Black Death, the fiercest, most bloodthirstest assassin the Legion’s ever had.
“Skin black as night and eyes like fire. They say he’ll kill a man for breathing wrong and that he can turn himself into a crow at midnight. And on the night of the new winter moon, he devours a newborn babe to renew his powers.”
“That is absolutely not true,” Jessalyne snapped. “He does no such things! My word, that is the most ridiculous bunch of piffling I’ve ever heard.”
Pulling back, Fynna wrinkled her brow. “Well, you asked! How do you know what he does and doesn’t do?”
Were these atrocious lies what people actually thought of Ertemis? Her heart sank as she imagined a life plagued with such prejudice. The sudden urge to wrap her arms around him and kiss the hurt away filled her. She closed her eyes, wondering if she’d ever touch him again.
Leaning back against a tree trunk, Fynna bit into a juicy slice of melon. “Just telling you what I’ve heard. Dark elves are very dangerous creatures. Unless you’re a woman. They’re supposed to be quite knowledgeable in other areas, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. Why are you grinning like that?”
“You know, in other areas...” Fynna made a rude gesture with her hands.
“Fynna!” Jessalyne’s eyes widened. “Oh my, that was uncalled for.”
The pixie fell over laughing. “You asked!”
They finished their meal, and watched the sunset unfurl in ribbons of lilac and coral before heading back to their quarters.
“Tomorrow is bath day.” Fynna flopped onto her bed.
“Wonderful! What time will the tub be brought up?” Jessalyne asked.
Fynna shot her an odd look. “We bath in the scullery.”
“You cannot be serious. In front of everyone?”
“Behind a screen, silly. I’ve got the feeling you’ll get to go first, if Sryka has anything to say about it. And she does.”
“I don’t want to interrupt the normal routine. I’ll bathe in whatever order works best.”
“Trust me, you do not want to bathe after the houseboys. Especially during the summer months.” She wrinkled her nose.
Jessalyne stared, unsure she fully understood. “Do you mean we share the same bath water?”
“Of course! What did you think I meant?”
“That is disgusting! I cannot bathe in someone else’s dirty water.”
Fynna shrugged. “Unless you suddenly become nobility, you better get used to it.”
“I would prefer not to bathe, then.”
Heart of Fire Page 18