Cursed by Fire

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “My gods! What happened to you?”

  And that was as long as her horror lasted. The next instant she was near him again, her lithe body and full skirts pressing against him and causing him pain, but at the same time they felt so good that he bit back the sound of agony brewing behind his lips. Her delicate fingers flew near his face, as though she would touch him; yet knowing she would hurt him if she did so, she kept an inch of distance between her fingers and his face.

  “By the queen goddess, you must be in agony!” she cried on a fierce whisper. “Come, you must sit.” She tugged at his cloak, urging him toward the bed, and he found he had little choice but to obey her. He had longed for that bed for hours. Had dreamed of it while his body burned over and over again. Had dreamed of her in it with him. But that had been a thought brought on by the madness of pain. Brought on because he had needed anything to keep him from thinking about how badly it hurt.

  “This is nothing,” he told her, his voice low and rough. His throat still burned from the fire. And it was nothing. Nothing compared to how it had looked an hour ago.

  “Sit!” she commanded in her grandina tone of voice, the one with which she was denied nothing by anyone. He obeyed her once more and sat down on the bed. “Stay here. Take off that cloak. The roughness of it must be killing you.”

  She reached out and shoved the cloak from his shoulders, exposing the full horror of his burn-riddled body. His very naked body. He could have stolen clothes, he supposed, but the idea of putting them on was just one pain too many.

  “Oh. Well … never mind,” she said, her fair cheeks flushing in the lamplight as her eyes stumbled over his dormant cock. Dormant because it was barely regenerated from being burned to near ashes. Otherwise, just the touch of her pretty blue eyes on him might have given him temptation to rise and greet her. Funny, that thought. It was as though becoming erect was second nature … and it was not. Not any longer. He had not reacted in the ways of a man for much longer than he had been alive originally. He had been thirty summers when he had become immortal and had first been thrust into the hells. He must have been down there nearly ten times that long.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said softly to him. “Do not move from this spot. Do you understand me?”

  Her tone made a smile twitch upon his lips. “Yes, madam. I am not a child. I can follow a simple command.”

  “Good. I will have many more commands of you before the night is through, so it is good you are well versed in heeding them.”

  Selinda stepped back from him and with great reluctance turned to the door. She opened it and passed through with stealth, leaving the light behind and using only the lamplight from the kerosene lamps that burned low in the hallway alcoves every thirty feet or so. It made for slow going, but the shadows helped her. She hurried to her rooms first and found Hanit within. Hanit startled at her entrance.

  “My goodness, your ladyship gave me a fright!” the older woman said, fanning her cherubic face with her hands.

  “Never mind that. I need your help. I need you to run to the kitchen and fetch these things.” The grandina whipped a piece of finely milled stationery from the short shack of it on her desk, wetted her pen, and began to scrawl in a florid script the things she wanted. “Do not let anyone see you if it can be avoided, and under no circumstance is anyone to stop you. If you are challenged, just say these items are for me. That I am not feeling well. Gather these things, then take them to Sor Dethan’s chambers. I will meet you there.”

  “Your ladyship!” Hanit gasped. “You cannot go into a man’s rooms unchaperoned! It is not seemly for you to be alone with him. Your honor will be called into question.”

  “Good,” Selinda muttered. “Maybe if it is Grannish will no longer want me.” But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. He would merely find a way to punish her for the infraction. “Go! And hurry!” she said to Hanit, shooing her out of the room. Then she rummaged in her closet of fine linens and pulled out two voluminous underskirts, the white fabric soft and limp, without starch to make it straight and crisp. They were among her older underskirts and she scarcely wore them any longer, so they would hardly be missed.

  She hurriedly rolled them into a fluffy, rustling ball and then, grabbing a pair of scissors at the last minute, she slipped back into the hallway. Her heart was pounding more than ever, the bundle of white she held negating any effect the shadows might provide since they practically glowed in the dark. But she somehow made it into Dethan’s chambers without being seen. She turned and found that he had not moved so much as an inch, as directed. She dropped the underskirts on the bed and immediately went to work cutting them up into long strips.

  “What is that for?” he asked.

  “I should think that would be clear. Bandages,” she said at the shake of his head.

  “That isn’t necessary,” he told her.

  “It is,” she argued. “If you leave the burns open, you are bidding infection to enter them.”

  “They will heal. Very soon. I’ll not get an infection.”

  “Not if I can help it,” she said. “I have to go to the common bath down the hall for some water,” she said, picking up the chipped porcelain pitcher from a table in the room.

  She did not appear to want Dethan’s input, because she was gone a second later. She was back in a flash and came straight to his side. She stopped then, all her energy seeming to still for a long moment as she folded her arms beneath her breasts and drummed her fingers against her arm. She was thrumming with impatience, he realized. Waiting for something, though he knew not what.

  The answer came a minute later when there was a light scratching at the door. Selinda hastened to let in a slightly plump woman, who appeared to be about a decade older than the grandina. Still in her young years, if not in her youth. It made him realize just how young the grandina really was. No more than twenty summers, he reckoned.

  “Over here, Hanit,” the grandina beckoned to her.

  “No!” he protested, pulling away as if to hide, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped by a pair of women. The truth was the more exposed he was in this state, the more questions there would be later on when he healed. He didn’t exactly know how long it would take for him to completely heal—he had never gotten that far before being burned all over again. It was possible he could heal completely before next sunset. There was no way for him to know. This day would be the first day he would have a chance to learn.

  “I trust Hanit completely,” the grandina said, making sure his eyes met hers as she spoke. “And believe me when I say there are very few who can make that claim of me. Now, you must trust me. Let me help you. And, to be fair, know that I will be seeking your help in return.”

  That surprised him. Usually people were not so up front about ulterior motives. Especially women, in his experience. They tended to wheedle and manipulate, working the world around them like soft clay. But not this one. No. Everything he had seen of her thus far had been direct and, he sensed, honest.

  “And if I told you I do not need your help?” he asked her.

  She briefly looked down, watching her own hands as she set out a basin and began to pour liquid into it from a variety of flasks the serving woman had brought with her.

  “I would help you anyway. I will ask your help, but it does not follow that you are beholden to me. You have as much right to say no as any man has.”

  There was a tone in her voice … not bitterness, but more like … resignation. She was resigned to the fact that the men she knew had power over her. But she was not defeated, he thought. She wanted his help. If she were defeated, she wouldn’t have even bothered to ask.

  He relaxed as much as his pained body allowed and let her work on him. She tore hunks of white linen from what he assumed was her own clothing, saturated each piece, and then carefully began to wrap up his limbs in the fabric. The first touched him and he hissed in pain as it stung him, but quickly after that his burns began to
feel cooler, then slightly numb.

  “The juice of the funi root has anesthetic qualities. It will ease your pain,” she explained to him.

  She bent to wrap his left leg and her hair slid forward off her shoulder. It was a thick black snake that coiled in a single large curl at its end. It shone in the lantern light, full of deep, rich darkness and maybe even the faintest touch of brown. It was scented. He could smell the sweet sensuality of it and he racked his brain trying to figure out what the scent was, but he had to concede it was like nothing he could remember. Then again, it had been so long since he had smelled anything other than fire and burning flesh, how was he to even know?

  “I am not worth your efforts,” he found himself telling her.

  “It is fortunate for you that I disagree,” she said, shifting to begin on his other leg. She touched him high on his inner thigh, a signal to get him to lift his leg so she could wrap it. It felt strange to have her touch him there. To have her touch him anywhere, really, but there it was so close to something almost … sexual. Surely only from his perspective, but he could not help himself. The craving that washed over him so suddenly took his breath away far more thoroughly than the pain he’d been feeling. What is this? he asked himself. I am not a man. Not as defines any free man. So I cannot allow for any feelings of … any feelings at all, never mind those of a sexual nature. And it is clear she has no purposeful intention of engendering them.

  “Does that hurt?” she asked him.

  “No,” he replied. Not at all. “You have helped me,” he said as she straightened and began to smooth wet fabric over his back. He was nearly mummified at that point. “Now, tell me what I might do for you.”

  “I …” She hesitated distinctly. “After I do your back you will lie down and rest. My demands can be made after you are better. Thank you, Hanit. You may go to bed now.”

  “But … your ladyship, it’s not—”

  “Seemly. Yes, yes,” she said with exasperation. “Honestly, Hanit, the man can barely move from pain, not to mention how we’ve bound him up. I hardly think my honor is under any threat. It is within my duties as mistress of this household to see to the health and well-being of all those under this roof, and that is what I will be doing tonight. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  It was clear by her tone that there was to be no argument even if Hanit could come up with one. The grandina had spoken and that was the end of it.

  “Of course, grand lady. But you will need help undressing,” she pointed out. “So I will stay awake and wait for you.”

  And so Hanit had spoken. She would not allow the grandina to spend the entire night with him even if to do it she had to make Selinda feel guilty for keeping her awake.

  “Very well,” her ladyship relented. “I will be up shortly.”

  “Of course. Fare well, Sor Dethan,” she said. Then she glided out of the room as quietly as she had entered, moving with surprising stealth for someone so obviously on good terms with good foods.

  Left alone, Selinda helped him to lie down and then wet the remainder of the fabric and slowly laid it over his chest. She gently smoothed the white linen over the large pectoral muscle on the right side of his chest. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at it a little as she tried to decide what to do next. Any plans she’d had regarding him had just been dashed to the ground and broken into bits. In this shape, what good could he possibly do her? But then again … she only needed him for his mind. His body may not be sound, but it was his intelligence and his cunning she needed most, and his words at dinner tonight had proven him to have an abundance of both. But like this, how could she expect him to protect himself against the machinations of an animal like Grannish?

  “Go on. Say it. Tell me what you need,” he said.

  She met his eyes with surprise. Then she sat back with a sigh. “It’s just that … I had very much hoped … But of course it is foolish to put your hopes in one place. And for that place to be a stranger as well … It makes me a very foolhardy woman.”

  “Probably,” he agreed. “But let us begin to look at the problem before we assume its conclusion. You are skipping steps.”

  “Very well. My father is under the sway of an evil, odious man and I need someone to make him see his judgment in this matter is not sound.” Dethan watched her deflate a little with another sigh. “He is not a stupid man, my father. And he is not a bad one. He is merely a blind one.” She looked at him then, earnestness in her eyes. “But if you help us to win this war, it will be a chink in the wall of his perceived perfection.”

  “I take it we are talking of Grannish. Or perhaps the general?”

  She scoffed. “The general is merely one of Grannish’s many well-placed lackeys. Grannish has his hooks dug deeply and all around. Never trust anyone. Never speak in public places of things you do not wish him to hear because it will be reported to him.”

  “And this is why you give your trust so sparingly.”

  She couldn’t seem to help herself from wringing her hands together, Dethan noticed. She was at a very high point of anxiety. He could smell the fear on her. And the determination.

  “Yes. You must see … Grannish is running our city into the ground. It begins with the Redoe, but it doesn’t end with them. The siege is starting to take its toll. The poor are beginning to starve and the wealthy are hoarding whatever they can. They stock up all they can before the Redoe come back in the summers. Every year the farmers outside the walls plant their fields and every year the Redoe make off with about half the produce. It’s gotten so that we are feeding them more than we are feeding ourselves. Please, I’m begging you to stay. Help us stand against the Redoe. Help us be rid of them once and for all and show my father that Grannish is not an expert in everything. True, Grannish has insulated himself and will let the general take more than enough of the fall for it, but the general was appointed by Grannish, and if we prove it a crucial poor decision …” She trailed off, her eyes searching his face frantically for signs he would agree with her and help her.

  “And what do I get in return?” he asked.

  Her pretty eyes widened slightly. “My f-father will pay you gold.”

  “Your father has already offered that to me for routing the Redoe. You are asking for something else entirely.”

  “I-I was hoping my kindness tonight and my loyalty into the future would be—”

  “I told you I did not need, nor did I request, your assistance tonight. It does not follow that it is not appreciated, however. I am far more comfortable and it has made me grateful for the reprieve from the pain. But that does not parlay into a reason for sticking my neck out. And I will be sticking my neck out. Grannish isn’t the sort to sit by and let the house he has so carefully constructed fall down around his ears. He will retaliate. But you already know that, don’t you? You experience it firsthand every day.”

  Again that widening of her eyes. “Yes, it is true. All of it,” she confessed quickly. “And more. It will be very dangerous, and I will not lie to you about that.” Which impressed him. She could have struggled to pretty the whole thing up in order to make things more appealing to him, but she did not. Again that honesty. A rare trait. One that could and probably did make her a target. She swallowed then and rose to her feet. She stood almost regally, ever the grandina, save for the fact that she was trembling and her eyes were bright with unshed, frustrated tears. “I have nothing to give you. What do you want from me? Tell me and it is yours.”

  He was quiet for a long minute.

  “You will warm my bed for as long as I am here.”

  “What?”

  What? he asked himself in shock. Where in the eight hells had that come from?

  “Those are my terms,” he said, digging the hole even deeper with impetus. But the more he spoke, the more the idea developed in his brain. “You will sleep at my side every night.”

  “Sleep? Only … sleep?”

  “No. Not only.” Dethan knew this was
the very last thing he should be doing. He had an agenda to satisfy and bedding the grandina of Hexis was not chief among his tasks.

  Then again … what was gold when there might be a city to be had? Perhaps the first city to be conquered should be Hexis. If he could find a way to rule over Hexis, not only would he be giving a city to Weysa, he would be taking one away from Xaxis. It would be a dual blow to the enemies of Weysa’s faction, making her stronger and them weaker. Yes. If he could rout Grannish and put himself in his stead, put the heir of the city in his bed and in his hands, then he could win the city without raising an army. Then it could serve as a base of operations as he defeated others … like the Redoe. Two peoples to be converted right within his grasp. All he need do was negotiate the pitfalls of a court and government completely controlled by Lord Grannish.

  And it would start with the woman standing before him.

  “What you truly want, besides what you have already mentioned, is an escape from your impending marriage to Grannish. Is that not correct?”

  She was shaking hard, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She gripped her hands within each other so hard the skin had gone white with interrupted circulation.

  “That does not mean I will shame myself or my father by … by becoming a kickskirt to the type of man who would ask such a thing from an innocent woman!”

  “See now, again you are speaking as though sex with a man is something you should be ashamed of. This is an attitude I disagree with. I will have you test me as a lover. I will have you certain that it is I you want in your bed. I of course will also be judging you. You will be my reward in this endeavor, as valuable as any sack of gold. With you comes a great city and all its wealth and forces.”

  “A-and if I do not please you? Will you not take me anyway? Grannish says he will force himself to tolerate my deformities in order to get what he wants. Would you not do the same?”