“We should have waited till she was asleep,” the assassin holding me grumbled, his voice rumbling through me as my eyes slipped closed. I caught a single flash of yellow-green from his aura. “She’ll likely remember this.”
“With how much I put on that rag? Are you in jest? Besides, easier to do it here. The last thing we need is him waking up and seeing us hovering over her . . . he would too. He always sleeps light, and he watches her like a hawk . . . surprised he didn’t come tonight . . .”
“Shh, she’s not out yet . . .”
“What?” The sharp surprise in the brute's tone cut through the thickening haze around me. With a great effort, I blinked, their heads circling above me, two giant shadowy birds in dizzying flight. I giggled, then moaned as I felt a dull pain behind my eyeballs, which seem to twist around in their sockets. I shut them again, and the dizziness faded to a pleasant warm darkness. Rain fell here, a soft warm rain that would wash away all my pain.
“I told you. Undene said she’d need far more than we expected. Now Bara, he dropped like a stone . . . I don’t relish sneaking him upstairs, the big blackguard . . .” His voice faded in the soft lapping of the waves. I floated in a warm, gentle sea. All was dark around me, the water supporting me. My mother’s lap. Perhaps this was her womb where I rested before I was born. Reborn. I was being reborn, refined into something they couldn’t touch or hurt.
I heard the waves slapping against the sides of what sounded like an approaching ship. I opened my eyes to find myself floating supine in endless greenish-blue sea, the silvery sky arcing overhead. Tendrils of purplish seaweed combed through my hair and caressed my skin. I looked over and saw the waves rocking a simple cradle of pine. A boy child stared over the side of the cradle at me, his gray eyes wide and solemn and ancient. His blond hair glowed flaxen in the silver light, his garnet-hued aura mingling in the sea around the cradle and making a shimmering wine that filled the air with the rich scent of sun-ripened grapes. He uttered no cry or other sound, his mouth set in a straight line as he stared at me. Spooky child--it was as if he weighed me with his gaze, much the way a suspicious adult would. After a seemingly endless moment of this measuring stare between us, he slowly lifted his arms in a gesture of supplication. He wanted me to hold him. I raised my hands and surrounded his small, sturdy body. As I picked him out of the cradle, he finally smiled, one cheek dimpling in the most charmingly lopsided grin . . .
Chapter Seven--Mordric
Royal Palace, Corcin, Eastern Cormalen
May, 3 years ago
Rankin’s wife was chattering about Safire’s paintings, something about how Merius and I needed to encourage her to show the infernal things at court, that the witch had a rare talent. That she did all right--a talent for getting into endless trouble. Sweet-tempered, attractive woman, Rankin’s wife, but silly beyond belief sometimes. I peered over the balcony into the seething crowd below, hoping for a flash of Safire‘s hair, a glimpse of Peregrine‘s blue dandy doublet, but nothing. They had been there in the middle of the crowd just a moment ago. Where could they have gone? Eden stood beside me, a white-lipped presence. I’d never seen her so obviously tense. They had to be in the shadows under this balcony--being directly underneath us, it was only spot hidden from our view in the entire ballroom. Either that, or he’d taken her through the doors to the gardens outside.
“Pardon me, but I should find Safire,” I muttered then as I dodged past Rankin‘s wife, who was startled silent, Eden left to invent some suitable explanation for my sudden urgency.
I hurried down the carpeted marble steps to the main floor, my fingertips skimming the cool iron railing. Once I reached the main floor, I heeded my surroundings with more caution. There was quite a crowd down here tonight. Amorous couples lingered in the shadows under the balconies. Small groups of men speaking in whispers lurked in a few of the alcoves, likely plotting intrigue. The last thing I needed was for an ally like Cyril to recognize me and try to pull me into some plot. Or for an enemy to spy me and try to follow. I swiftly went from shadow to shadow, my eyes roving for any sign of Safire or Peregrine. He must have taken her outside, the blackguard. Damn it.
I walked through the doorway to the terrace, hands casually in my pockets as if I just wanted some air. I understood now why the ballroom was so crowded--a light, steady rain fell out here, enough to dissuade most people from seeking the shrouded privacy of dark garden paths.
I glanced under the trellises in case Peregrine had thought to take Safire there, but all I heard was the patter of rain drops on thousands of leaves. Next I found myself on the paths among the azaleas, some so old they had grown to the size of small trees. There I paused, my ears pricked to discern any sound besides the steady drumming of the rain. It felt as if a feather trailed over the hair on the back of my neck, a sure sign that someone unseen observed me. I turned but saw nothing besides the shadows of the bushes along the glistening stones of the path. Someone groaned then, branches breaking nearby. I stiffened, then stalked in the direction of the sound. As my eyes adjusted, I perceived two rounded shapes near the side of the path. At first I thought it might be a couple of hunched rabbits, but the gleam of wet leather and lack of movement at my approach indicated a pair of boots. The wearer apparently had fallen into one of the queen’s prized azalea bushes, his heels pointed toward the path. I reached down and ran my finger over the leather and sole of one just to be sure.
I straightened and looked around for Safire. Likely she had fled, unless those assassins had stopped her. Surely they had been the ones to incapacitate Peregrine. If they seized Safire, did anything to her or Merius . . . I drew a deep, shuddering breath. I had to keep my temper in check, damn it. Hadn’t that incident with Whitten taught me to mind myself better?
There came that prickle across the back of my neck again, followed by several stray raindrops as the azalea branches dripped on my head. I uttered a curse under my breath and continued stealthily along the path, carefully placing one foot in front of the other to make as little noise as possible.
I heard a rustle, a faint creak of a branch to my right. I turned my head sharply, my eyes straining the shadows. One moved after a long moment, stepping forward on to the path. He grasped a slight form in his arms, a form that moaned then, a pitiful sound.
“What happened to her?” I asked in Sarns.
“That blackguard gave her Ursula’s Bane,” the assassin hissed, jerking his head in Peregrine’s direction.
“Damn him.”
“We have much to say to you, but not here,” he continued. “You get her somewhere safe first, and we‘ll take care of him.” He leaned forward and gave me Safire. She mumbled something as I took her. Then she settled her head against my shoulder, her hand reaching up to grasp my other shoulder. Somehow in her stupor, she knew the familiar from the unfamiliar. She knew me. Ursula’s Bane affected witches and warlocks differently than ordinary folk, but I thought Safire’s unusual awareness despite her unconscious state was more likely some peculiarity of hers than of the drug. I tightened my grip on her.
“Thank you,” I whispered, then turned and headed for the terrace. Eden and Lady Rankin had followed me as far as the doorway, and they came out to the terrace the instant they spotted us.
“Is she all right?” Eden demanded, keeping her voice low.
“Nothing that a little rest and warm honeyed whiskey won‘t fix.”
“What happened?” Lady Rankin asked, and I noticed with no small surprise that she followed Eden’s example and spoke in a murmur. More sensible than I had given her credit for.
“She fainted, I think. Eden, go to your chamber and unlock the door. I’ll be up there soon--I’m going to use the servant’s stairs.” Eden turned with a golden swirl of skirts and headed back for the ballroom. I noted with approval that she strolled--anyone who saw her would think she had no cares in this world aside from feminine trifles such as the style of her hair, the trimmings on her gown. I had helped her pick that gown, though I w
ished now I had thought about other men‘s appreciative eyes. The cut was just a tad tight and a bit low in the right places, or wrong places depending on who was looking.
I sighed inwardly and turned to Lady Rankin. “My lady, I suggest you return home. Artemious doesn’t expect you to rejoin him at Merius and Safire’s rooms, does he?”
“No, but I thought I could go there perhaps and let Merius know what’s happened.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather talk to Merius myself about this. He’s a bit,” I paused, searching for the right word, “excitable when it comes to Safire.” Safire mumbled something then, her grip tightening on my shoulder.
“Poor dear,” Lady Rankin said, patting Safire’s bowed head. “Mordric, is she--” Then she paused, her thin, elegant features flushing in the spill of golden light from the doorway. “I shouldn’t even ask--never mind me.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s most indelicate of me, but is she with child? That will make a woman faint sometimes.”
I found myself slack-jawed, perhaps even gaping at her in a most ridiculous way. I immediately straightened. “I don’t think so,” I heard myself say. “Neither she nor Merius has said anything about it.” Safire sighed then and hid her face against my doublet.
“Oh dear, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just the way her lady’s maid fussed over her during dinner. And I caught her cradling her middle with her hand once or twice, the dreamiest expression on her face. It’s probably nothing--likely she ate something that didn’t agree with her.”
“Likely so.” I glanced down at Safire--such a slight, fey creature. It was difficult to believe she had borne one healthy baby mere months ago and now perhaps bore another. What effect would Ursula’s Bane have on an unborn child? A witch child, no less? My grip tightened on her, my arms starting to ache. “I should get her upstairs,” I said aloud. “Good night.” I headed off toward the single lantern marking the outer door that led to the servants’ staircase. To my relief, I met no one aside from a sleepy guard who stood watch near the bottom of the staircase. He saluted me as was due my status as a former commander, his eyes lingering briefly over Safire.
“My daughter-in-law. She fainted,” I explained.
He nodded with a yawn. “Good night, sir. Hope she feels better.”
“Thank you.” I proceeded quickly up to Eden’s chamber, cursing softly. Safire’s weight seemed to grow with each step I climbed. I was panting by the time I reached the proper hall.
Eden opened the door at my knock, quickly shutting it behind us as I laid Safire on the bed. I plucked a candle off the side table and examined the witch’s face closely in the light. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips full and red, her breathing even and deep.
“You think she’s with child?” I asked Eden, who sauntered up beside me.
Eden tipped her head to the side as she gazed at Safire. “Why do you ask?”
“Rankin’s wife said something about it.”
“She could be--she has that certain glow some women have when they’re pregnant.”
I glanced around the chamber, the candle casting giant, swooping shadows as my hand moved. “Is Bridget here?”
“No. I sent her to bed.”
“Clever vixen--you anticipate me at every turn.” I leaned down and caught her mouth under mine. Her lips were already slightly parted, as if she anticipated my kiss as she anticipated everything else. The circle of candle light swayed around us as I ran my free hand over the heavy waves of her dark hair, loosed down her back now that she was in the privacy of her chamber. She arched her neck against my palm. The tart, spicy taste of her entered my veins with the languid stupor of opium, so that the chamber seemed to slowly revolve around us when our mouths finally broke company. I was reluctant to quit the diversion, but both of us had work to do before the evening was over. I groaned inwardly at the thought of trying to come up with a story that would satisfy Merius’s inevitable questions. Likely he’d be upset no matter what I or Safire told him. As he should be--what if our intrigue this evening had somehow permanently hurt Safire or the babe she apparently bore? “Damn her,” I muttered. “And damn myself.”
“Mordric?” Eden said, rubbing my back. “What is it?”
“Just thinking about what I should have done differently. That silly witch--she should have said something.”
“She looks like she’ll be fine,” Eden said with a glance at the bed. “And who knows--she may not even be with child. We could be worrying for naught.” She caught my gaze, her eyes amber flickers in the guttering candlelight. “Safire knew what she was doing--she and I talked about it. She had misgivings, but . . .”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” I demanded.
Her eyes flared. “Do you tell me everything you discuss with other men that might pertain to our intrigues? Tit for tat, sir.”
“Don’t muddy the waters with generalities, Eden. I’m well familiar with that particular tactic. If I’d known Safire had misgivings, I wouldn’t have let her go through with it.”
“Of course she had misgivings--who wouldn’t in her position? But she knew the risks better than anyone, and she went through with it because she wanted to help you and Merius get rid of Peregrine. Why is it you men always assume we women need your guidance to make decisions for ourselves?”
“Because you generally rely on emotion rather than reason when you decide things . . .”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And you don’t? What do you call threatening Whitten and plotting revenge against him but a decision based on rage?”
“How do you know about that? Have you been eavesdropping on me and Randel?” I grabbed her shoulders.
She grinned. “Whatever do you mean, sir? I spoke of Merius and his rage at Whitten--why, are you mad at Whitten too?”
“You phrased your question in that vague way so I would reveal something, didn’t you?” I asked softly, not knowing whether to shake her or embrace her.
“And you fell for it--odd, how your emotion trumped your reason so readily. I thought that was only something that happened to us poor women.”
“Tit for tat, indeed. Damn you . . .”
Safire made an odd noise then, a sort of croaky moan. It sounded as if she tried to laugh but couldn’t work up the stamina to manage anything more than a muffled chortle.
“Can she hear us?” Eden demanded.
“She shouldn’t be able to--Ursula’s Bane generally keeps people unconscious for hours.”
“So that’s what made her faint?”
I nodded. “Peregrine gave it to her, the whoreson. The fact that he has Ursula‘s Bane convinces me that his secret deals with the SerVerinese must be going well--a drop of that stuff is worth a pouch of diamonds.”
Safire coughed then, a raspy hacking, and raised her hand to her face. Eden and I stared at her as she touched her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips. It was as if she reassured herself she was still in one piece. “It wasn’t Peregrine,” she murmured finally, her voice a mere wisp of sound. “My face feels numb.”
“Here.” I went over to the bed and slid an extra pillow under Safire’s shoulders and head so she could swallow properly. “Drink this.” I uncorked my hip flask and held it to her lips. She swallowed, choking, then snorted a giggle. “What now, witch?”
She giggled again. “Every time I have some kind of fit, you ply me with whiskey. You make an odd apothecary, sir.” I could hear Eden stifle a laugh behind me. Damn women.
“Whiskey cures everything, ingrate,” I growled and made her take another swig. “Now, who gave you the Ursula’s Bane, if it wasn’t Peregrine?”
“The assassins.” She gulped, all traces of amusement suddenly wiped away. “They said--said it would enhance any abilities my son may have.” One white-knuckled hand worried at the blanket.
“Assassins?” Eden demanded.
“I’ll explain later, Eden. So, you are with child,” I said, turning back to Safire. “Why didn�
��t you say something before?”
“I haven’t been certain for long--I just told Merius today, sir. And they heard me.” Her voice rose, her words coming in uneven hitches. “They’ve heard everything apparently. They’ve even been in our chamber at night--they talked about us sleeping, how Merius would likely wake up if they tried to give me Ursula’s Bane then . . .” She trailed off, swiping at her eyes.
Icy resolve stabbed me, a cold dagger in my gut. “Damn the demon king and his schemes,” I muttered. I thrust my handkerchief in her hand. “Here, now, don’t cry yet, sweet--I have some more questions for you. Then you can rest.”
“Yes, sir.” She squared her shoulders against the pillows and met my gaze.
“The assassins told me that Peregrine gave you the Ursula’s Bane--why would they bother lying to me if you already knew the truth?”
“I don’t think they realized I was still conscious at that point or that I would remember what happened--they don’t seem to have much experience giving the Ursula’s Bane to witches and warlocks. After all, if I wasn‘t a witch, likely I would still be out for another several hours, and I wager Peregrine won‘t even remember we danced when he wakes up.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Eden said quietly. “He seems quite smitten with you, Safire.”
Safire shuddered, her lips pursed in an expression of utter disgust. “That filthy swine Peregrine--I hope those assassins leave him in a muck puddle on the public road for the horses to tramp on. That‘s all he‘s fit for. Is Thadeus the father of Cyranea of the Helles Isles?” she demanded suddenly.
“Yes--why is that important?”
“Because Peregrine has some agreement with Thadeus and the SerVerinese concerning the Helles Isles. Is that what you need?” Her eyes bore into mine.
Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 16