Flametouched

by Brian K. Fuller

  Realizing that there would likely be little left of interest to watch, she supposed it time to fetch the Lord High Sheriff and put Davon to work. The ledgers had revealed a few secrets, and some of those secrets involved powerful people, including the one that had just left the room. Creetis slowly and cleverly moved some scheme forward, but the Queen suspected they had a little help from some disgruntled Bittermarchians. The safety of the Kingdom was not as secure as she had thought, and if she guessed right, she could completely trust but few. Lord Carver was one.

  She took one last glance out the window. Arianne stumbled slightly, forcing Lord Carver to put his arm around her waist to steady her until she could recover enough to continue. An old, old trick, Filippa smiled. Arianne, at long last, played the game. Filippa had feared the Lady had forgotten how, but apparently she had just required the proper motivation.

  Wrapping a shawl about her shoulders and fetching the clever walking stick, she gathered her guards about her and sent a messenger to fetch the Lord High Sheriff. She walked as quickly as she could. Lord Carver needed to understand the terms of his imprisonment in the Queen’s dungeon, and he needed to know that his road would send him into danger. While she doubted he would shrink from the task, she wanted to give him the choice just the same. He also needed to understand what would soon befall Lady Hightower if the matter didn’t find a quick resolution.

  The teeming garden steered her mind toward the more pleasant matter of Davon and Arianne, and when she found them walking near a wall of flowering, purple lilacs, Lord Carver’s expression was sober, Arianne’s doting.

  One more expression to change. The more difficult of the two.

  Davon and Arianne walked toward Filippa and she stopped to wait for them. Lord Carver appeared to want to separate himself from the Lady’s arm, but Arianne hung on too fiercely. They stopped and greeted her.

  “Thank you both for coming,” the Queen said after they had bowed. “The Lord High Sheriff will meet us here shortly, but I need a private word with Lord Carver, Arianne, if you can spare him.”

  “For a while, Your Grace,” she acquiesced, releasing him. The Queen led him away, signaling her guard to remain behind with Arianne. These matters were for as few ears as possible.

  She waited until they were far along the hedge lined path before speaking. “Seeing the two of you this morning among the flowers makes me feel my age most keenly, Lord Carver. It seems ages ago now that I walked these same paths with King Ostris. Better days, those. He and I had the rare gift of loving one another despite the forced arrangement of our marriage. I have always wanted my friend Lady Hightower to enjoy the same gift.”

  “She deserves it,” Lord Carver agreed, eyes distant.

  “Indeed she does. How do you find the Lady now that you’ve spent some time with her?” the Queen probed.

  “A most excellent and beautiful woman,” he answered tersely and a little too disconnectedly for the Queen’s liking.

  “I think so, too. She seems fond of you.” The Queen glanced up, finding his face looking sick. Not what she had hoped. “Does this trouble you, Lord Carver?”

  “She does not seem to understand what associating with me will do to her reputation. I killed her husband. I faked my own death to escape my marriage. I am stripped of my lands and my honor. She should run from me, not befriend me. Perhaps you can explain this to her in a way she will understand. I have failed to impress upon her the weight of the situation.”

  The Queen chanced a look back, finding Lady Hightower watching them intently. “She won’t run from you, Lord Carver, so I suggest you accept her friendship. I know the Lady, and she can be stubborn in these matters. But since you invoked the sentence I laid upon you for your crimes, let us turn to it now. Your lands I took as punishment, your honor as a protection for you and for a lord or two that would demand a duel with you, leaving them both dead, most likely. These may be returned to you.

  “The Queen’s dungeon is not quite what you expected, I am sure. It is a place for those who have done wrong but who are simply too useful to lock away. The terms of my dungeon are these: serve me and you can spend your days in the sunshine. Choose against me, and you can go to the more traditional dungeon and enjoy poor accommodations and the company of rats. I tailor the terms of release to each of my inmates. Yours are these: you will win back your freedom, your honor, and your estate when you agree to marry Lady Arianne Hightower.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, disbelief hindering words. “With all due respect, Your Grace, how could ask your friend to do such a thing? Do you not value her good standing in society? Have you informed her of your terms?”

  “I have not, Lord Carver,” she returned firmly, “and you are not to speak to her of this. You’ve already won her good opinion. Winning her love should not prove too difficult. Or do you find her repulsive?”

  “Of course not!” he said. “But that is hardly the point. I am an outlaw, and she is a Viscountess!”

  Brace yourself, Lord Carver. “I’m afraid that brings us to a more serious matter and the first task I shall lay upon you. If you do not succeed in what I commission you to do, the Lady Hightower will be more of an outlaw than you.”

  “What?” he exclaimed.

  At last some real passion was rising from the man. He was trembling. The Queen took his arm and dragged him forward, farther from Arianne. “Do keep your voice down, Lord Carver. What I am about to relate you must keep from the Lady at all costs. I wish to spare her the pain of this as long as possible. It took little time to comb through the private ledgers you recovered. The missing funds from Hightower were being funneled to someone in Longford under the guise of several fake businesses.”

  “How do you know they were fake?” he asked, eyes intense. “And even so, Lady Hightower is innocent in these matters!”

  “We managed to capture her steward and her clerk,” the Queen answered. “Very conveniently, I might add, delivered quite literally to our doorstep. They informed us of the false nature of the entries and asserted that the Lord and Lady of Hightower were both complicit in sending the funds to Longford. They claim that the Lady Hightower threatened to frame them for robbing her estate and they fled.”

  “Lies!” A livid fire sparked in his eyes, arm tensing under her grip. He liked the Lady Hightower more than he let on.

  “Yes, yes, of course. The problem is that the two wish to press charges against the Lady, who, they say, sent assassins after them. Their attorneys are quite persistent, but the Lord High Sheriff has agreed to stall for as long as he can. I’m afraid the evidence is against Arianne. No one will believe that she was ignorant of the loss of so much of her estate’s wealth. If this goes to trial, she will be in that dungeon with the rats, possibly worse. She might be executed, Lord Carver. There is more.”

  “Say on,” he said, voice barely controlled.

  “The Aid Society plot you uncovered. The Boot and Wheel Caravan Company was not just mishandling the funds. From what the sheriff has been able to gather from a few of the suppliers and warehouse hands, the funds were used to ship weapons and horses to various places in the north in worrisome quantities, though there is no hard evidence as yet to prove it. I think the accounting irregularities in Hightower are related. The Aid Society contributions alone would not be enough to buy weapons in the quantities the warehouse hands described to us. I suspect Hightower funds, perhaps added to others, were used to outfit an army yet unseen.”

  He nodded, his eyes flint and his face resolute. Good. I knew he would be the one.

  “Have you confronted Lord Longford?” he asked.

  “I have no evidence to implicate him in anything,” the Queen answered. “The ledgers only record the money going to the town of Longford, not the final recipient or the use. I have a hard time believing him ignorant of thousands of pounds pouring into his demesne, but if it comes to trial, he’ll have nothing with which to worry himself. If I give him advance warning now, I’m sure the evidence I ne
ed will vanish. The clerk and the steward from Hightower claim they have no knowledge of what the funds were for and simply delivered them to a man they knew only as Justus Paige. I need your help.”

  Davon looked back in Arianne’s direction. “Anything, Your Grace. I will not allow these scoundrels to sully the Lady in this fashion. Not on my life!”

  The Queen smiled. She knew his feelings now, probably better than he himself did. He loved Arianne Hightower, whether he would admit it or not.

  The Queen patted his arm. “Good man. The Lord High Sheriff wishes to capture Justus Paige as well, but as a favor to me has delayed his own orders to his counterparts in Longford. You will arrive first. I will have you work with two other men who are also serving time in my little dungeon. They are Sir Charles Goodwin and Mr. Landon Killcreek. I sent word ahead to Longford two days ago. They will expect you at the Brawny Maid Tavern. Ask the barkeep for the Queen’s Bull Ale and you will be led to them. Do you understand?”

  His eyes rested on Arianne. “I will depart immediately.”

  “You need to be properly supplied first. I see you have a horse. The Lord High Sheriff will provide you with any weapons, food, or money that you need. Now, Davon, we must return to Arianne and convince her all is well. I’ll give you a few moments to offer your goodbyes to the Lady. You keep your mouth closed about falsified ledgers and nefarious plots. Remember, marry her and everything will be returned to you.”

  He declined to comment further about her offer. Stubborn man! For the moment it didn’t matter. Keeping Arianne from stepping foot in the dungeon or ending up in the drowning cage was Davon’s mission now, and by the look on his face he itched to shoot off to Longford like a bullet in her defense. Filippa led him back toward a curious Arianne, and the Queen smiled to throw her off, fearing Davon’s fiery intensity might reveal that something was at stake that concerned her.

  “Lady Hightower,” Filippa said, noting the Lord High Sheriff striding up. “Davon will escort you back to your apartments in the palace where I will come to speak with you shortly. Davon, if you will see the Lord High Sheriff when you are finished. Do not try to pry, Arianne. Lord Carver must prosecute an errand of the utmost importance and secrecy and he is not to speak of it.”

  Arianne inclined her head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  Chapter 25

  Arianne was no fool. She kept a good eye on Filippa and Davon as they conversed, and Baron Carver had reacted strongly to whatever the Queen had to say, his incensed emotion visible from a distance. As she and Baron Carver left the Queen and the sheriff behind, he strode forward energetically, jaw set and eyes distant, as if looking ahead to somewhere he had to go.

  He led Ceril by the reins with his right hand, and she had commandeered his left, much to the surprise of one Lord High Sheriff. Everyone, she realized, thought she hated Davon. It gave her a perverse pleasure to disappoint their assumptions.

  “Could you walk a little more slowly for a Lady?” she asked.

  He returned his focus to her and his face softened. “I am sorry, Lady Hightower. I am a bit preoccupied. I must away as soon as possible. There isn’t a moment to lose!”

  “You will keep your promise to me won’t you, Lord Carver?”

  He stopped and released Ceril’s reins, taking her hands in his. “At the first opportunity, I swear it. But now, I must fly. I thank you, Lady Hightower, for your kindness. Please keep safe and give my best to Saunders and your sister.”

  Her heart pounded. Something about the worry and determination in Davon’s voice bespoke dangers ahead. He had already been through so much. Gently she pushed forward and wrapped her arms around him and he wrapped her in his.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Davon,” she said. “Come to me at Hightower.” She felt those unbidden tears rising again and she released him, turning away and fleeing inside before she could see his sympathetic face and say more than she intended.

  Arianne returned to her apartments, heart brimming with feeling. Her life had rolled along on such a steady track since her husband’s death. Her contentment had continued unabated until the Earl of Longford had pressed his attentions upon her, forcing her to worry about losing her independence. Uticus was handsome, affable, and a gentleman from a powerful family, but all of his charms had failed to persuade her to surrender her unmarried state. Now that Davon Carver had entered her life, her satisfaction in her own independence seemed a feather in turbulent wind of emotion.

  Such ridiculous romantic feelings! Often she had internally chastised some of her peers for their irrational flights of fancy as they swooned and simpered over this man or that, proclaiming undying devotions that always met swift demises when the next handsome pair of trousers waltzed into the room.

  But now here she was, flushed with hope and desire. It was as if someone had rung a great bell in her heart, waking her and announcing that, indeed, love was not a fluke, an imaginative delusion, or a just a label given to make a good match appear to better advantage.

  Love was within her grasp.

  She wanted to control it, stifle it. She wanted to be the master of her feelings. But Davon Carver had brought water into the dried garden of her affections, and everything was blooming and bursting over walls and fences, bounding out of beds and gardens with such startling fecundity that the restrictive gardener within her could only look on helplessly.

  Surely it wasn’t prudent to love someone so early into an acquaintance. Was she deluding herself? Had she turned into one of the silly ladies of which the Bittermarchian court had no short supply? And what would everyone think of a woman who loved the man who had killed her husband?

  In the midst of these reflections, the Queen sent a servant to fetch her into the drawing room where they often met. Arianne tried to collect herself. She wanted to be in control when she met the Queen, but as soon as she crossed the threshold of the drawing room, Filippa threw her a particularly knowing grin that prompted a giddy smile in return.

  “Good morning, my Queen,” Arianne said, genuflecting with stiff formality. If she couldn’t stifle the sunshine in her heart, she could at least try to cloud it over on her face.

  “Good morning to you, dear. Please sit.” The Queen waved everyone else out of the room while Arianne situated herself on her customary chair. “Before we get to more pleasant matters,” the Queen said, “I have been asked by Duke Longford to put in a good word to you on behalf of Uticus Longford, who cannot help but be distressed by your apparent coldness to him of late. I don’t quite have the heart to tell the Duke or his son that if things seem cold, it is because the fire has moved off to warm someone else.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Arianne replied evasively.

  The Queen laughed. “I see. Well, listen for a bit then. I don’t doubt that at some point during our conversations you may have come to understand that I regard Lord Davon Carver a vast deal. Though perhaps not so much the case now, I am sure that at one time you might have wondered what it is about him that I admire so. I wish to explain it to you, if you wouldn’t mind, because I think it important that you understand. Will you hear me?”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Arianne answered, surprised by the serious tone.

  “I have lived longer than I should—as the House of Lords would no doubt agree. I have read much and seen much. Have you ever wondered why there is such a thing as a ‘noble’ class and a ‘common’ class?

  “In our history, noble families evolved—and quickly—based on those who married into Joris Pulsipher’s line. People naturally admired him for his connection to the Eternal Flame, and those who intertwined their lives with his and those of his family partook of that admiration by association. But that was not all. The early days after exile from Creetis were hard and dangerous, and there were those who rose up, who led and protected their fellow refugees. They possessed elevated qualities people could sense and feel, so much so that they placed their trust upon them, and with that trust came privileg
e.

  “With privilege, unfortunately, follows indolence, vanity, and pride. The prosperity the nobility enjoys has, I am afraid, nearly bred out them those remarkable qualities that once made men and women noble by nature. So much of what we think of as ‘noble’ now is practiced affectation and pretense. But our Lord Carver is a noble man, not just a nobleman. There are others, to be sure, but I find Davon remarkable in so many ways. He takes no pleasure in power, has no improper pride, is temperate, treats those beneath his station with respect, eschews intrigues and courtly foolishness, and is manly and strong.

  “If our ancestors who struggled through that dark winter in the mountains and who fought and scrapped and suffered to survive could see us now, I think they would be disgusted with the lot of us and would only find a kindred Bittermarchian in Davon and those like him. What do you think, dear Arianne? Do I see clearly or am I just an old blind woman rambling on about nonsense?”

  “I agree with your assessment of Davon, Your Grace,” she answered, wondering what the Queen’s point would be, “but surely this disease of pretended nobility is not as widespread as it may seem.”

  “Perhaps not,” the Queen answered, “but don’t forget my gift and what I see when I look at the men and women assembled in my hall. But you are wondering why I tell you this.”

  “Yes.”

  “For all Davon’s good qualities,” the Queen said, “he has a flaw I should desperately like him to overcome, and I need your help in the matter.”

  “I would be glad to help where I can, though I am unsure I have much influence over him.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself,” the Queen chided, “especially where Davon is concerned. He cares for you a great deal, this I can see.”

  No amount of concentration could thwart the blush reddening her cheeks, the flow of happiness into her soul. She had not mistaken his regard for her.

  Arianne cleared her throat. “What flaw do you see that you wish to correct?”

  “That he does not feel like he belongs in our circle, the circle of court and politics. He avoids them out of a sense of disgust and sometimes, I think, a belief in his own inferiority. With you at his side, and with a little guidance, I think he might at least tolerate a session at the House of Lords or perhaps even talk to his fellow nobles at an assembly.”