The Devil's Fire

by Sara Bell

  "Those in league with him?” Gareth hardly dared hope Denmar's cohorts were talking. “You mean the disgraced members of the High Council?"

  "Indeed. Since news of Denmar's demise has reached the dungeons, it seems the councilors are most anxious to avoid a similar fate. Not that it will do them any good.” Elwin's eyes flared with the grim promise of retribution. “Now that they've incriminated themselves fully, the executions will proceed in record time."

  Gareth could think of no one more deserving of such a fate than the men who'd betrayed the very king they'd sworn to serve, but there was something he didn't quite understand.

  "What does Denmar's estate have to do with me?"

  "You've defeated the man in a death challenge.” Elwin spoke as if surprised Gareth didn't already know the answer to his own question. “According to the laws of Orielle, everything that belonged to Lucien of Denmar must now pass to you."

  Gareth hadn't thought of that, but there was one thing he was certain of. “I want nothing of Denmar's. You can pass it on to the poor or sell it on the streets for all I care."

  "Would that it were so simple.” Elwin came to his feet with a weary sigh. “Perhaps the two of you had better come with me."

  Gareth and Alric rose as one from the bench and then followed Elwin through the solar to a private balcony overlooking Banning's great hall.

  Once at the rail, Elwin pointed down. “There sits the real treasures Denmar left behind."

  Gareth looked down to see the two small boys and the old nurse Denmar had pointed out when they were greeting each other on the lists. The oldest of the boys was sitting on the floor playing with some sort of poppet, while the nurse was working to quiet the fretting babe.

  With his thumb, Elwin indicated the oldest child. “His name is Talon, or so the nurse told me. The woman wasn't certain how old he was, but she estimates him to have passed three summers."

  "The babe in the shed.” Alric spoke so softly, only Gareth heard him. He was standing behind Gareth, his eyes riveted to the dark-haired boy.

  Gareth had no doubt he was remembering the torment he'd suffered at Denmar's hands.

  If Elwin noticed the interplay between the two of them, he didn't comment. Instead, he continued gazing down at the children. “The youngest is no more than a year, and from what the nurse tells me, he has no name."

  "No name?” Alric's voice was thick with disbelief, but Gareth had no trouble believing the depths of Denmar's loathsome coldness.

  "His children were like everything else in Denmar's life: pawns in his never-ending quest for power."

  "Too true.” Elwin agreed with Gareth's assessment. “From what I've gathered, these two,” he again pointed to the boys, “shared the same mother. The nurse claims the poor woman died in childbirth, but knowing Denmar, he could have just as easily ended her life once he tired of her.” Elwin turned away from the railing so that he was facing the both of them. “Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it. Denmar brought with him to Banning a slave girl, a woman named Zalista whom he abducted during one of his many raids."

  "Allow me to guess,” Gareth said. “The girl is with child."

  "I'm afraid so. She's three months into her confinement, or so she believes. I've spoken with her, and I can tell you true that she's little more than a child herself. She wants nothing to do with the babe once it's born, meaning Denmar has, in essence, left behind three motherless children.” Elwin braced his hands behind himself on the rail. “I'm assuming you're starting to realize just what your victory over Denmar means."

  "Yes.” Gareth knew with grim certainty what Elwin was saying. “The fate of all three children is in my hands."

  "That's the sum of it.” Elwin tapped his fingers against the railing. “You hold their futures in your palm."

  The responsibility of it made Gareth feel as if he'd aged twenty years in the last five minutes. “I suppose I could find a family to take them, perhaps even place them with a childless couple of noble blood."

  "Perhaps, but I've a better idea.” Elwin sounded as if he'd already given the matter much thought. “I think you and Alric should raise them yourselves."

  Gareth looked at Elwin as if he'd gone mad. “You can't be serious."

  "Why not?” Elwin crossed his arms over his chest. “From watching the two of you together, I've surmised yours is a loving household. I can think of no better people to give a child the stability he needs than a couple so obviously devoted to one another.” His voice softened. “Don't you want children, Gareth?"

  "Yes, but what you're asking...” Gareth couldn't believe he even had to say it. “How can you ask me to raise the offspring of my mortal enemy?"

  "What I'm asking is for you to take in three babes who are as much a victim of Denmar's evil as you and yours.” With one hand, Elwin gave his scar an absent-minded scratch. “I don't believe in visiting the sins of the father on hapless innocents, and I'm willing to wager you don't, either."

  In his head, Gareth knew Elwin was right, but convincing his heart was another matter entirely. “'Tis impossible, this thing you ask of me."

  "As I said, ‘tis entirely your choice..” Elwin pushed away from the rail and started back into the solar. “Take whatever time you need to decide. Until then, the children will continue to be treated as my honored guests."

  Gareth gave the High King little more than an answering bob of the head as he watched him leave. Turning back around, he looked down on the boys, innocent and yet forever tainted by Denmar's blood. He didn't realize he'd spoken the thought aloud until Alric came to stand beside him at the railing.

  "Weren't you the one trying so hard to convince me that my own blood was pure?"

  "That was different.” Gareth watched as the oldest boy rose on pudgy legs and toddled over to the still-fussing babe. “You thought your blood poisoned. This ... this is something else entirely."

  "Perhaps, but it seems my blood holds more power than either of us thought.” Using one finger, Alric traced the healing mark on Gareth's wrist. “In sharing my life's flow with you, it seems I've passed on my grandfather's curse."

  "Saving my life in the process.” Still staring down at the children, Gareth slipped his arm around Alric's waist. “You mustn't forget that part. Creator knows I won't."

  "As if I could.” Instead of leaning into him, Alric pulled back and pointed down just as the boy called Talon wrapped his arms around the babe.

  Instantly, the babe went quiet.

  "There's no denying the power of blood,” Alric said, “but I'm a firm believer that any man can take what he's been given and bring good out of it. Especially when that man has been raised by loving parents who've worked hard to teach him the difference between right and wrong."

  "Are you telling me you want to take Denmar's children as our own?” Gareth found it hard to believe Alric was even thinking about this, yet as he searched his husband's face, he felt sure he had his answer.

  "I'm not going to answer that question except to say I support you no matter what you decide."

  Gareth blew out a harsh breath. “In other words, the full brunt of this falls on me."

  "You'll make the right decision, Gareth. Of that, I have no doubt.” With that prediction hanging in the air between them, Alric turned and left.

  How long he stood there after Alric left him to his thoughts, Gareth couldn't say. He only knew he was no closer to finding an answer once he finally pushed away from the rail and followed the path Alric had taken.

  * * * *

  That evening, the whole of Banning Castle rang with feasting and merriment in celebration of Gareth's victory. Trenchers overflowed with specially prepared delicacies like roast duck and candied squab. Troubadours and stringed musicians competed at top volume to bring forth songs of praise and tales of triumph, and the High King himself offered a toast to Gareth's bravery.

  As for Gareth, he was enjoying himself well enough, he supposed. He'd shared a joyful reunion with his sisters and e
ven passed a pleasant hour swapping stories of Jarric with Nadar. As for the feast itself, he was flattered to be at the center of it all, but for some reason Gareth felt he was more going along with the motions than actually celebrating his own victory.

  Finally, about halfway through the festivities, he found he'd had enough. Excusing himself from Tristam, who was well into his cups after the unbearable tension of the day, Gareth said, “I'll be back in a moment.” He pointed to Alric, who was on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Glenna and Rowan. “Should Alric come looking for me, tell him I've gone to catch a breath of fresh air."

  "That, I will do.” Tristam gave him a rather fumbling pat on the back. “Now enjoy your walk, while I partake of another glass from Elwin's fine wine cellar."

  Gareth couldn't help smiling over Tristam's drunken enthusiasm. He certainly didn't envy him the headache he knew Tristam would suffer come the morrow. Knowing Tristam well enough to know it would do him no good to point that out at this stage, Gareth left him to it and headed out the side door to the hallway beyond.

  He'd intended to go outside, but for some reason Gareth found himself headed for the guest quarters, instead. Without allowing himself time to think about what he was doing, he stopped a passing servant and questioned the man until he got what he needed.

  Information in hand, Gareth walked down to the last door on the left. The sound of childish laughter told him he was in the right place. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

  Little Talon was sitting on the floor, his pudgy legs stuck out in front of him. In his hands he held the crumbling remains of a pastry. From the look of him the boy had gotten more of the treat on his face and fingers than he'd managed to put in his mouth.

  Talon looked up as Gareth came in, a broad, crumb-filled smile splitting his cherubic face.

  "Here now.” Gareth's voice sounded gruff to his own ears, and he gentled it as best he could. “What are you doing still awake at this hour?"

  "Talon, what are ye—” The old nurse came in from the adjoining room, breaking off when she saw Gareth standing there. Falling into a deep curtsy, she said, “Beggin’ yer pardon, Sire. I had no ken ye was here."

  "Never mind that.” He pointed to Talon. “Why isn't this child in bed?” For reasons he couldn't explain, Gareth was outraged at the thought that this woman was neglecting her responsibilities to the children.

  "'Tis the music, Sire.” She jabbed a wrinkled thumb in the direction of the hall, and for the first time, Gareth realized the sounds of dancing and laughter could be clearly heard.

  The old woman smiled down at Talon. “I've tried all I can think to get this wee one abed, but he's havin’ none o’ it."

  Gareth wasn't satisfied. “Do you always give him sweets this close to bedtime?"

  "Oh, no, Sire. The old master, he allowed no treats for the babes, but now ‘at he's gone, I thought a lil’ sweet would be a'right."

  Gareth was about to answer her when Talon lifted the hand holding the pastry out to Gareth. “Bite?"

  "Saints love ‘em.” The nurse gave a cackling, toothless laugh. “The wee master wants to share with ye, Sire.” Her pale eyes sparkled with fondness as she gazed down at the child. “Such a sweet one he is, in spite o’ how the old master treated him. Ye'd think the boys would be rotten to the core after the way they was ignored, but they're both as good an’ pure as the day they was borned."

  Again, Talon offered the treat to Gareth. “Bite?"

  Gareth shook his head before turning back to the nurse. “Is he only just learning to speak?” He thought sure a child of three summers should be further along.

  The woman nodded her graying head. “Lord Denmar, may he rot, didn't want no one getting too close to the boys, including their mama, Creator rest her poor soul. But he's a bright one, he is, an’ with the proper care, he'll come along right nice."

  Gareth was about to ask another question when a shrill cry sounded from the next room. “The poor love must be hungry,” the old woman said. Bobbing another quick curtsy to Gareth, she turned toward the door. “I'd best be fetchin’ his wet nurse."

  Gareth made to stop her, but she was gone before he could. He was once again left alone with the boy.

  If it bothered Talon to be in the presence of a stranger, he didn't show it. Instead, he regarded Gareth with warm blue eyes before pushing to his feet. Toddling across the room, he stopped at Gareth's boots and raised his chubby arms. “Up."

  Gareth's first thought was to ignore the command and flee the room, but Talon had neither the temper nor the patience to be denied. Stamping one tiny, bare foot, he repeated his command. “Up."

  He'd faced warriors in the heat of battle that intimidated him less, but Gareth soon realized he had not the heart to refuse the child. With trembling hands, he reached down and took Talon into his arms.

  Talon laughed with delight as Gareth lifted him to eye level. As Gareth settled the boy into his arms, Talon dropped his pastry, took Gareth's face between his miniscule hands, and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

  Whether it happened right then or whether his mind had already been changed, Gareth couldn't say, but he knew in that instant that Talon and his brother had stopped being Denmar's kin and had simply become just what they were: little boys in desperate need of someone to love and care for them.

  Resolve melting with each step he took, Gareth carried the sticky child across the room to the washstand. “What's say we wash you up, lad?” Gareth reached for a clean cloth, laughing as the child anticipated what he was going to do and tried to squirm away.

  He dunked the cloth and wrung it dry before carefully scrubbing the crumbs from Talon's face.

  "There now. I know ‘tis not the most pleasant of tasks, but you'll feel better once I'm done."

  Talon's squealing protests told Gareth he disagreed with the pronouncement, but Gareth soon had him clean. Tossing the rag back into the basin, he carried Talon to the chair beside the boy's bed.

  "What's say we see if we can get you to sleep?"

  The boy's only answer was a wide-eyed grin, the sight of which enchanted Gareth. He settled Talon into the crook of his arm and was just searching his memory for a story that might put the boy to sleep when the soft sound of footsteps near the doorway told him they were no longer alone.

  Gareth looked up, unsurprised to find himself the subject of Alric's unwavering silver gaze.

  "You followed me."

  "Yes, and it's a good thing, else I would have missed this tender scene.” Alric gifted him with a slow smile. “Reminds me of the night at Drystan when you walked in and I was holding Calla."

  "Yes, only our roles were reversed.” Talon wiggled in his arms, and Gareth sighed. “Are these things always so fidgety?"

  Alric laughed. “You've probably had about as much experience with small children as I, but since Glenna constantly complains that Stefan is never still, the answer to that question seems to be yes."

  "He's smaller than Stefan.” Gareth frowned. “The nurse told me Denmar isolated the boys as much as possible."

  "Sounds about right for Denmar.” Alric studied Talon but made no move to come any closer. “I imagine the right amount of love and attention will soon undo all traces of Denmar's neglect. As soon as we find the boys a proper family, the healing process will begin."

  Talon snuggled against Gareth's chest and let out a loud yawn. With just that motion, Gareth's decision was made.

  He glanced from Talon's sleepy face to Alric's more speculative one. “And if I told you I think I've already found a place for all three children?"

  Alric raised both brows. “Have you?"

  "I'm not certain what kind of father I'll make.” Gareth mopped the sweat from his brow with his free hand. “What if at some point I'm proven incapable of separating these babes from the truth of their origins?"

  "We both know that isn't going to happen."

  Gareth wanted desperately to believe it, but the fear stil
l held him. “How can you be certain?"

  "What do you see when you look at me, Gareth?” Alric stepped over the threshold and came fully into the room. “Do you see the fact that Denmar and I were once wed each time you look into my eyes?"

  "You know better than that. All I see is you, the man that I love."

  "You've just proven my point.” Alric came to stand beside his chair. “You're an open and giving man. Soon you'll remember not where these little ones came from, only that they belong to you heart and soul."

  "And what of you?” Gareth lowered his voice as Talon began drifting off. “Yesterday you weren't certain you were ready to become a father. What say you now?"

  "I say yesterday is gone and tomorrow is already off to a promising start.” Alric smiled down at Talon. “I've always thought a man needed at least three children, have I told you that?"

  "No, you haven't.” A lump formed in Gareth's throat. He forced it aside as he rose to his feet. Carrying Talon to his bed, he tucked the boy beneath the covers. “Rest easy, lad. We've a long journey come the morrow."

  Talon's only answer was the soft rise and fall of his chest as he snuggled beneath the blankets.

  Once assured the boy was tired enough to sleep, Gareth went to the door between the rooms and gave a swift knock.

  The old nurse answered the summons at once. “Yes, Sire?"

  "See that you and the children are packed, and make sure the woman called Zalista is prepared, as well."

  "Are we leaving then, Sire?"

  "Tomorrow at first light.” Gareth swallowed. “I'm taking my family home."

  "Yes, me king. I'll have Talon and the wee babe ready for ye."

  "Declan."

  The nurse paused. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Sire?"

  "A babe needs a name,” Gareth said. “From here on in, our youngest son shall be called Declan."

  The nurse nodded before going back into the other room. Alric came up behind Gareth, slipping strong arms around his waist. “I thank you for that."

  "No need to thank me.” Gareth turned in the circle of his embrace. “I never thought I'd say this, but the greatest day of my life was the day Declan of Kray forced me to wed his son. Who'd have thought ours would become a union so true in every meaning of the word?"