The guards outside the king’s chambers gave her a curious look. The tall one spoke. “The hour is very late. His highness is asleep, miss.”
“Please, I must speak with Sir Laythan. It’s urgent.”
They glanced at each other.
“I’ll be quick and quiet, I promise.”
The shorter guard smiled. “Miss Jessalyne, you have yet to be noisy.” He gave her entrance.
Once inside, she knocked lightly on Sir Laythan’s door. “Sir Laythan? It’s Jessalyne. Are you awake?”
When he opened the door it was obvious he had not yet retired for the evening. “My dear, I am so sorry. There was nothing I could do.”
“May I come in?”
“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside then closed the door behind her. He motioned toward the chair by the fire, bringing another chair from the desk.
As soon as he was seated, she began. “The tonic is poison. Sryka is making it from the dust on Fynna’s wings.”
His eyes went wide.
“You must stop giving it to the king. Don’t tell Sryka, just send the steward to fetch it every morning like you usually do. We cannot tip our hand yet until we have some sort of plan.”
“A plan? What can we do? I am an old man and you’re a mage apprentice.”
She smiled softly. “There’s much I’ve kept hidden. Will you take me to the king? I believe I can strip the poison from his body.”
“Do you really think there’s anything you can do?”
“I can only try.”
He nodded. “Come with me.”
* * *
Ertemis approached the castle gates with caution. The guards would not be able to see him, but his warrior instincts stayed wary for anything that might go wrong. Two guards on either side of the barbican and two guards on either side of the inner gate. Even for him, climbing the large iron gates without making noise would be difficult. He couldn’t chance it.
He crept along on the far side of the main street in front of the castle entrance. The guards gave no sign they sensed his presence. Further down, guards were stationed at regular intervals along the parapet. He kept moving, studying the walls. He ran his hand over the polished granite. It was as slick as it looked.
There was no way he could scale those walls without alerting the guards. He would have to use a little magic and an ample portion of cunning.
Of the two guards on the outside, one was a might stouter than the other. Ertemis slipped between the guards, careful not to touch against the gates, lest the hinges groan. Leaning toward the portly guard, Ertemis whispered into his ear. “Had enough at supper, didn’t you, lard bottom?”
The guard jerked his head around at stared at the man across from him. “What did you say?”
The other guard gave him an odd glance. “I didn’t say a word.”
“I heard you!”
“I didn’t say anything.”
The stout guard turned back to his post, tugging his tunic down.
Ertemis leaned in again. “I’ll wager your shadow weighs more than I do.”
Again, the fat guard whipped around. “I guess you didn’t say that either!”
“Said what?” The thin guard made a face. “Maybe your ears are failing.”
“Or they’re stuffed with butter.” Ertemis added softly in Turl’s ear.
“That’s enough, you weedy varlet. I won’t stand for another word, Pieter.” Turl punctuated his sentences by jabbing the air with his spiked lance.
“Weedy varlet? Is that the best you can do, you suety barrel of pig innards?” Pieter narrowed his eyes and planted his feet wide.
“Pig innards?” Turl’s face bloomed bright red.
Turl dropped his lance and lunged at Pieter. Ertemis stepped out of the way. As the two tussled, the guards inside yelled for them to cease. It did no good. With much swearing and name-calling, the two guards rolled around in front of the gate, beating each other senseless.
Inside, the other two guards opened the main gate to come to the aid of their fellows. Stepping around the scuffle, Ertemis walked straight into the bailey.
* * *
Jessalyne followed Sir Laythan into the king’s bedchambers. He drew back the heavy bed curtains first and then the sheer inner ones.
“Should I wake him?” Sir Laythan asked softly.
“No. Let him sleep. Just give me a little room.” Jessalyne kept her voice low as well.
Laythan backed away. “Do you need more light?”
She shook her head. “The candle is sufficient.” The king looked ill even as he slept. His skin was almost grey and Jessalyne suspected a few more days of the tonic might finish him. Turning back, she gave Laythan a reassuring smile.
She rested one hand lightly on the king’s forehead and another over his heart, slowly shutting out everything around her. She tried to sense the poison, tried to feel for it with her mind before she drew it into herself.
Eyes closed, she envisioned the king’s body as whole. In her mind, she saw dark oily patches rise to the surface of his skin. Her whole body tingled. She snatched the first of the dark stains away. It burned her skin like acid. She called more fire for strength. Over and over, she plucked the caustic stains and fed them to the fire inside her, wincing as they gnawed into her flesh.
Laythan gasped. She opened her eyes. Blue fire washed her hands and arms.
When the stains were gone, she searched for anything else ailing him but found nothing. She directed the healing heat into the king before taking her hands away.
Her head spun and dark spots clouded her vision. The poison’s magic had taken its toll. She slumped into a chair near the bed, exhausted and panting.
Laythan went to the king’s side, staring in astonishment. He shook his head. “How...I...thank you.” Concern bent his mouth. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine after some rest. How is his highness?”
“He looks utterly restored. He’s still sleeping, but I imagine he’ll be much improved come morning.” Tears glimmered in his eyes. “I doubted you. I’m sorry. I won’t make that mistake twice. You have my word.”
“I’ve hidden this power from Sryka and I would like to keep it that way.”
“What’s one more secret?”
At that they both smiled. Laythan offered her his arm and helped her out. He shut the door quietly behind them. “We have more to discuss.”
“We do, but I’m shattered. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow is time enough. Thank you again.”
* * *
Ertemis hugged the walls as he slunk into the great hall. The fires had burned down to glowing ember beds. People snored beside the hearths. He inhaled the scent of strong drink. Good. A man in his cups slept well.
One of wolfhounds dozing by the fireplaces raised its head. The dog looked directly at Ertemis. Its great black nose worked the air. He held his breath. At last, the animal lay its head back down.
He honed in on Jessalyne’s heart rhythm, moving toward the stairs on the far side of the hall. Back flat to the wall to avoid anyone coming or going, he made his way up.
* * *
Jessalyne bid the king’s guards goodnight and set off through the maze of passages. She hadn’t had dinner, and as tired as she was, her grumbling stomach wasn’t going to let her sleep until she ate something. She changed course and took the back hall to the servant’s entrance into the scullery.
Lost in a swirl of thoughts, she walked blindly. What would happen when Sryka learned the king had been healed? And when the king learned what his son and his mage were up to? A strand of hair dangled before her eyes and as she tucked it behind her ear, she collided with a dark figure.
A small platter of chocolate biscuits and gingerbread clattered to the floor. She bent to retrieve them. “Pardon me, I wasn’t looking where I was—”
“Let them be. The future queen of Shaldar should not scuttle around the floor like a maid.”
>
She held her breath. The biscuits were scattered around a pair of goblin skin boots with jeweled buckles. No, not now. She had neither the strength nor the desire to deal with the prince. Straightening, she met his gaze. “And yet you fetch them from the pantry yourself, your highness?”
“I am not coming from the pantry, although where I am coming from is none of your business.” He moved toward her. She stepped back.
She could smell perfume on him and judging by how poorly he had redressed himself, she knew Fynna’s guess had been correct. Fresh anger over the night’s events welled up. “So kind of Salena to give you her leftovers.”
Amusement warmed the prince’s cold stare. “Jealousy becomes you. I’m pleased to know you have some spirit after all.”
He took another step toward her and she backed into a wall.
“I hope to see that spark when I bed you.” He put a hand on either side of her, pining her to the stone. “I’m so used to Salena’s fiery disposition, a cold fish would bore me to tears.”
“Then keep her in your bed.” Jessalyne ducked under his arm but he shoved her back.
“I plan to, but I can have Salena anytime I choose. Innocent flesh is much rarer.” He leaned in, lips puckering.
Jessalyne pressed her hands against his chest and twisted her face away. Erebus’s tongue slicked the side of her neck. She gagged. Anger and disgust boiled up insider her, desperate for a way out.
* * *
Ertemis rounded the corner and found Jessalyne in the arms of another man. Wounded, he stumbled back. He was too late. And if that was the way her tastes ran now, she definitely wouldn’t want him.
With a scowl of disgust, she pushed the man away. Not her lover after all. The man lunged at her and Ertemis’s relief faded. Jessalyne’s assailant laughed at her attempt to stop him and roughly pawed her breast. She yelped.
Rage overtook Ertemis. No one hurt Jessalyne. Still cloaked in magic, he grabbed the man’s collar and yanked him back at the same time she shoved.
Jessalyne looked at her hands in surprise as if she hadn’t known she possessed such strength.
The assailant slumped against the wall, rubbing the back of his head where he’d smacked the stone. “Pasty wench. How dare you deny me? How dare you lay hands on me? I swear, you will not survive this kingdom long when your usefulness is up.” Who was this weasel?
She flung her palms toward him, fingers curled up around blistering balls of flame. The man flinched. Good. She stared him directly in the eyes and spoke in a slow, deliberate voice. “If you ever touch me again, I will show you my true fiery disposition.”
Ertemis grinned. She’d been practicing. Her refusal to back down made him proud. How could he not love a woman this fierce?
The man swore and backed away. “Witchspawn,” he whispered, his gaze lingering on the flames she held. He whimpered and took off down the passage. She doused the fireballs as soon as he was out of sight.
“Well done,” Ertemis whispered.
She spun around, hands up. “Who’s there?”
Ertemis pushed the hood of his cloak back and dropped his enchantment. “You called and I came.”
Her hands fell to her sides as her mouth dropped. “Are you real?”
He could wait no longer to touch her. He gathered her into his arms. Her soft curves and warm skin against him felt like coming home. “You tell me, lelaya.” He pressed her closer and inhaled her scent. “Do I feel real?”
She nodded. “Oh yes...very real.” Her eyes blazed as she pulled away and jerked her hand back, her open palm flying toward his face.
He caught her wrist inches before she struck his cheek. “What the devil is that for? You called me!”
She wrenched her hand out of his grasp. “I’ve been calling you for a month. You just show up now and expect me to thank you? Why don’t you just go back to whatever alehouse you crawled out of?”
Heat radiated off her in waves, warming the passage uncomfortably.
“Jessalyne, I can explain...”
She grabbed his tunic and pulled him close, sniffing him. “You don’t have to. I can smell her.” She glared at him and swallowed hard. “Get away from me. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Chapter Eighteen
He inhaled. The chain holding his mother’s ring was steeped with her perfume and the warmth of the passage was releasing the scent. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Jessalyne. The woman you smell is my lady mother.”
The air cooled as Jessalyne’s disposition calmed. She narrowed her eyes, unsure. “You went to see your mother?”
“Aye. In Elysium.” He watched her face softened and realized that he desired her just as much when she was angry as when she was not.
“You visited with her for a month?”
“Nay, I was in Elysium for less than a day. When I stepped foot on mortal soil again, a month had passed. Time on Elysium is as meaningless as money in Fairleigh Grove.” He took a step closer. “Believe me, I came as soon as I heard your call.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. He reached for her again, desperate to hold her. “Don’t be angry with me, sweeting.”
She looked up, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry for what I said about the alehouse.”
“I’m sorry I gave you reason to think that of me, and I’m sorry for many other things.” He bent his head to whisper in her ear. “If I don’t kiss you this moment, I will die.”
Closing her eyes, she tipped her head and offered her mouth to him. He captured her lips and devoured the sweetness he had missed for too long. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her lips traveled down to the curve of his neck, and she kissed him there as he had once done to her. He rewarded her efforts with a low moan. By Saladan’s bollocks, he wanted her. Perhaps too much at the moment. He pulled back and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “If he touches you again, I will kill him.”
Catching his hand in hers, she kissed his palm. “I’m fine.”
“Aye.” he smiled. “That you are.”
She traced his jaw with her fingertip. “You pulled him off me, didn’t you?”
“Aye. Does that disappoint you? You seemed so pleased with yourself.”
“It doesn’t disappointment me in the least.” She rested her head against his chest and he embraced her again. “I missed you.”
Words left him. He struggled against the rush of emotion. “I missed you, too, lelaya. And as much as I would like to keep you in my arms, I cannot risk being seen. I need to hide myself again then we should get out of this hall.”
“We can go back to my quarters.”
He cloaked himself, knowing the instant she could no longer see him by the change in her face. She turned down the passage. “Stay close to me.”
Chuckling, he replied, “You needn’t worry about that.”
Her stomach grumbled again. She paused, unsure of where to look. “I was on my way to the kitchens. Do you want anything?”
What he wanted wasn’t food. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I’ll get enough for both of us.”
Only the bakers occupied the kitchen at such an hour. They paid little attention to her as she filled a basket with bread, cheese, pickles, cold sausages and honey cakes. He wished she would hurry. He ached to be hidden away with her.
Finally, she started up a new set of steps. He whispered, “Will anyone see us here?”
“Highly unlikely.”
He took the basket from her. “Let me help, then.”
At a landing, she paused in front of the door. “Wait here. I share these quarters.”
His heart sunk. “Why bring me here then? I don’t want anyone to see me.” And he wanted to be alone with her.
“Fynna knows all about you. I just don’t want you to scare the blue out of her.”
“The blue?”
“Don’t move.” She took the basket back from him and slipped inside. “Fynna,” she whis
pered.
The pixie was curled on top of her coverlet, still dressed in her tunic. Obviously, she had tried to wait up. She yawned. “I smell food.”
“Are you awake enough for a surprise?” Jessalyne set the basket on the table.
Fynna opened her eyes a little more, a sleepy smile on her face. “Chocolate biscuits?”
“Not that kind of surprise, silly goose.”
Fynna stretched. “What is it?”
Jessalyne smiled. “Better than chocolate.” She opened their chamber door. “You can come in now.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Ertemis emerged out of thin air. Fynna fell off her bed and onto the floor with a soft thump. She peeked over the edge. “Is that...” She pointed then snatched her finger back. “Are you him? The Bla—I mean, Ertemis?”
“At your service.” He bowed slightly. “And you are?”
“Fynna.” She popped her head up a little more. “I’m a pixie.”
“I’m a dark elf.”
She climbed back onto her bed. “I know.”
Ertemis winked at Jessalyne. “Talking about me behind my back, are you?”
Jessalyne unpacked the food basket while Ertemis unclasped his cloak and threw it across her bed. He reached into the basket to help. Their hands touched. His fingers briefly interlaced hers. Smiles drifted across both their faces.
“No liver dumplings?” Fynna grinned at her friend. “I think I’ll go to the scullery and see if there are any in the cold larder.”
She left, only to pop her head right back in. “I’ll knock before I come back in. You know, just in case—”
“Fynna!”
The pixie giggled as she shut the door.
“I see subtlety is not one of her virtues.” Ertemis sat at the game table.
Jessalyne took the chair across from him, trying to find a place to start. “I have so many questions and so much to tell you. So much has happened.”
“There’s something I need to say first.”
He tore a hunk of bread into pieces, keeping his eyes down. “I owe you an apology. Before we parted, I treated you no better than that beast in the hall. You deserve better. Much better. Please…please forgive me.”
Heart of Fire Page 24