Cursed by Fire

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “I want a wife. A lover and a helpmate. A ruler and a caregiver. If you cannot give me these things, then there are other ways of seizing this city that will not include saddling myself with an incompatible wife. But it will not come to that, I think. I will destroy Grannish for you utterly, leaving you free to marry whomever you choose, and should I please you, you will choose me.”

  Shock finally stilled her shaking body as she absorbed the full impact of what he was saying. “You mean … you don’t wish to treat me dishonorably? You … you want to wed me?”

  “I want to wed the heir to this kingdom. I will not romanticize it for you. This is a transaction. I will take Grannish’s place in this house and this city. It will satisfy both our needs.”

  “But I thought you wanted to leave,” she whispered.

  He smiled gently. “I have been tempted to do otherwise,” he said to her. “I will ask only two things of you: your utter loyalty to me and that you will be true. Any children you birth will be mine and no one else’s. I will not tolerate being made a cuckold.”

  “You …” Selinda was absolutely floored. She had never thought something like this would come of her visit with him. Her desperation was profound and she would do anything … anything to spare her father, her city, and herself from Grannish. There was nothing she would not do. But … here was a wild card. She knew nothing about him. How was she to know if he was any better than Grannish? She could literally be getting into bed with an even worse sort of tyrant.

  If that was possible. No, she told herself, Grannish was the worst. There was no conceiving anything more vile. And she knew he was capable of much more. Once he was wed to her … the only thing holding him back would be her father’s life.

  Goddesses above, no! Oh, how easily Grannish had poisoned her; it would be just as easy for him to do the same to her father!

  “If he feels things are slipping out of his grasp, then he will lash out,” she whispered to him, hearing the fear in her own voice. “My father and I are protected because right now he needs us, but my young brother a-and most of all you will be in the gravest of danger. I already suspect him of—”

  “Killing off your older siblings in order to manipulate his way onto the throne.”

  She blinked, staring at him. “How did you know that? You’re a stranger. You said yourself that you know nothing of our ways and politics …”

  “Sometimes,” he said in the quietest but strongest of tones, “an outsider can see things more clearly than those who are in the mix.”

  She was still for a very long minute, turning his proposal over in her mind. Then she absently lifted her hand to the burn on the line of her jaw. She looked over his burned and mummified body. “How can you accomplish any of this in the state you are in?”

  “You will simply have to invest trust in me when I tell you I will be more than able. But think on it. Go to Hanit. When we come face-to-face in the morning, you will see what you need to in order to have more faith in me. Me and the goddess I worship. She will bring you the solution you need in the form of this man before you. It is up to you to accept Weysa’s gift.”

  “Weysa? The goddess of war,” she said. Then she nodded. “I will think on it and provide you with an answer in the morning.”

  With that, she moved away from the bed and toward the door. Before opening it, she turned back to him and said, “I’m not sure if you are my salvation or my destruction, Sor Dethan. But I am sure you are one or the other and you are about to change my life. I can only pray it will be for the better.”

  “If you pray, pray to Weysa. You will need her strength and skill to help you through what is to come.”

  “Of course you would say that. You are a warrior.” She nodded to him. “You pray to your god and I will pray to mine. With two such resources, perhaps we will find what we need.”

  She slipped through the doorway, shutting the door in total silence in her wake.

  Dethan remained there for a while, looking at the door in the flickering lantern light. Then he exhaled a sigh and let his body sink into relaxation. As he lay there, knowing the fire was not going to come for him for another whole day, he felt tears of relief pricking at his eyes. It didn’t matter that he was still in a significant amount of pain. It was nothing compared to the worst he had suffered. This was pure luxury and he dared, for just a moment, to sink into it.

  And for the first time in an untold number of ages, he knew the peace and beauty of sleep.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  Selinda was feeling no effects of a largely sleepless night. Her adrenaline and anxiety were at an all time high. She was hurrying down to the morning meal, her hands locked in laced fingers, palms pressed against each other.

  He would expect her answer this morning. She was going to have to choose between certain evil and uncertain possibilities. To an outsider it might have seemed an easy choice; it was anything but. She had been suffering under Grannish for so long with no one to hear her cries and protests … If she got into bed with this warrior, literally and figuratively, what danger would she be beckoning in and who would there be to hear her cry for help? No one heard her now. She was so utterly alone. She had been ever since her elder brothers had died. They had listened to her. When they were alive Grannish had not been cruel to her. He had played the game well, seeming even tempered and charming. What if the even temper she saw in Sor Dethan was just another cover over pure evil?

  No. Even when he had been at his kindest she had always known something was off about Grannish. She had sensed it. The sisters at the temple said it was her knowing showing itself, that her knowing was very strong. But they had also said she would wield great power one day. And while the sisters of Kitari seemed to hold little power in their lone temple in the roughest part of the city, some considered them to have great powers. Indeed Selinda had seen them do some amazing things in the name of their queenly goddess. But all the mems in all the various temples seemed to have their own special kinds of gifts.

  But the only power Selinda would ever have would be the power of her throne, and right now, as things stood, that meant very little. She was being bartered like a captive slave with no regard for the conditions she was being sold into. All the terms had been negotiated and never once had anyone cared enough to ask her what she wanted.

  Selinda took a deep breath, trying to cool the emotions her thoughts were churning up. If she struck this bargain with Dethan, she would regain her power over herself and her crown. At least that was what she hoped. She could simply be throwing herself into the same situation only to find herself still a slave but to a new master.

  No. No matter how this unraveled, she was never going to find herself in a position of power. She was still merely a pawn, something for Dethan to use to get what he now wanted. But wasn’t that the whole point of her going to him in the first place? How could she fault him for doing what she was asking him to do? Who could fault him for wanting the power and position marrying her would offer up to him? She would take it for herself if she could manage it.

  She should feign illness, she thought in a sudden panic as she neared the doorway leading into the dining chamber. Go back to her rooms and sleep her life away, freeing herself of all choices and potential pain.

  No. She would not be ignorant and weak. She had already done enough of that. Today she was taking charge of her life, for better or for worse. And even if she did choose Dethan, there was no possible way he could be physically up to the challenge. He would be lucky if he could even make it down for the morning meal.

  The thought froze in the center of her mind as she stepped into the room and saw him, standing at least a full head over everyone else in the room. He was …

  Healed. Almost completely. There were still scarred burns on his neck and arms similar to the ones from when she had first met him, but there was nothing else. Nothing to show that last night he had been burned nearly to the bone in some places. It was as though the injuri
es had never happened at all.

  He looked up abruptly, almost as though he had sensed her entering the room. She found herself suddenly afraid that he had the ability to do exactly that. If he had the power to heal in such a way, who knew what other powers he possessed?

  His eyes met hers and he arrested her gaze, making her feel like they were alone in spite of the crowd of people between them. He had been standing apart from everyone, leaning back against a wall, looking so dark, silent, and beyond powerful. He had somehow procured a new set of clothes for himself and he looked dominant in the breeches and linen shirt he wore. Over the shirt he wore a finely tooled leather vest.

  Considering his station, he should be the least powerful person in the room, yet he commanded it like a warrior chieftain. As he came toward her, her heart hammered in her chest with the power of the strongest of blacksmiths, banging against her ribs so hard she wondered why everyone couldn’t see it. Couldn’t hear it. He came up to her and stood before her. He said nothing, merely looked down into her eyes with expectation on his face.

  She swallowed, trying to think about what she should say first to him. He looked at her with this expression like he knew what she was seeing was going to change everything, wipe away her doubts.

  And it did, she realized. Not all of them, but the ones about whether or not he was the right choice … the strongest choice. A man made of such breathtaking magic was a man she wanted on her side. It was an advantage against Grannish she could never have dreamed of.

  She opened her mouth and only one word came out.

  “Yes.”

  He gave her a little smile, reached to pick up her hand, and placed it on his arm as he turned to lead her into the room.

  “My bed. Tonight and every night.”

  “Why?” she asked him in a nervous whisper. “In the end I have no choice but to marry you. There is no need for me to, as you say, test you out to find out if you are a sufficient lover.”

  “I will make you a contract,” he said, one of those almost grins toying at his lips. “If you find me insufficient as a lover, then you may refuse my suit for your hand.”

  She stopped and stared up at him incredulously. “You would do that? What will keep me from denying you your prize at the end if all this succeeds?”

  “Because I will know if you are enjoying yourself enough to fulfill our bargain.”

  His words made a hot flush sweep across her cheeks and face. She couldn’t meet his eyes again.

  “Besides, being in my bed serves a dual purpose. From what you say, Grannish is expecting a chaste bride. If you are no longer chaste, if there is a possibility that you are about to bear a bastard heir to the throne, it will ruin all his plans far more soundly than anything else I might do.” At her horrified gasp he chuckled. “But rest assured, I have plans far more overt than getting you with child. Let us consider that my secondary plan. My main efforts won’t take as long in any event, and from what you have told me, it would not be above Grannish to find a way to expel the child from your body or kill it once it’s born. And since it will be my child, I am wholly against the idea.”

  Selinda didn’t know what to say. He was right, and yet it was all so wrong. What was she doing? This was utter lunacy!

  And yet she knew his ideas were very sound. If these were only his secondary plans, she wondered what his main tactics were going to be.

  He turned, cleared his throat, and said, “The grandina has arrived.” He did not shout it—he did not need to—and yet everyone in the room heard him and fell into respectful silence. He led her to the head of the table, and immediately the crowd broke apart and headed to their chairs.

  Oh, how nice it would be, she thought, to have such power of mere spirit. The ability to command respect without titles or position to back you up. Her power was just a shell. She was powerful over most of her people, and yet powerless where it counted most. Powerless to save her family, powerless to make her father see, powerless to command her own life and do with it what she would.

  But none of that disturbed her more than the idea of walking willingly down the stairs from her rooms tonight and into his chambers.

  No. She could not risk that long course night after night. She would be seen. It would be reported. And as much as he might like the idea of Grannish hearing about it, she did not. If Grannish thought he was losing his power over her, he would not hesitate to gain it back by any means necessary. She had no wish to be ill again or, worse, to die. She would have to be careful never to take any food in her chambers. She would have to be satisfied with these common meals, where it would be impossible for her to be poisoned without risking poisoning the entire table. Or so she hoped. She did not put it past Grannish to kill others in his quest to get to her.

  She barely paid attention as she was led to her seat. Her father entered the room moments later and everyone sat down, Dethan at her right elbow and Grannish boring holes into her from across the table. Gwynn was in her seat to Selinda’s left, a point that had irritated her a great deal when it had first happened. She should have headed the table with her father; instead, his mistress was given a position above her. Yet another way she was made certain of the strength of her father’s respect for her, she thought bitterly.

  She caught herself in the thought. No! Her father was being misled and manipulated. By Grannish on the one side and Gwynn on the other. She should not be angry with him for trusting the wrong people.

  “Your most honorable, I have reconsidered your offer,” Dethan said baldly after their first course was served. “I will help you with the Redoe. It is in my best interests because I cannot leave without it and because I can always use the gold. Provided the sum is correct.”

  “And what sum would you ask of me?” the grand asked. “We are a small city and our coffers suffer from the Redoe.”

  “Are you withdrawing your offer, then?” Dethan asked. And Selinda knew a moment of sheer panic. No. That could not happen!

  “Father, I would gladly give up half my personal jewels if it will help us to be free of the Redoe. They can easily be replaced once the city is thriving again.”

  “Nonsense,” the grand said with a chuckle. “You see my daughter, Sor Dethan? She always jumps in with both feet before thinking of the consequences. It is why she could never be grand in her own standing. She reacts too emotionally.”

  “Better that than with no emotional sensitivity at all,” Dethan argued. Her father may not have been aware of it, but that was a dig at him. She was sure of it. She frowned at Dethan, but he wasn’t looking at her. She suspected he wouldn’t much care even if he was.

  “True,” the grand agreed. “Very well. Ten thousand gold pieces,” the grand said magnanimously. The sum was tidy and it elicited murmurs of surprise up and down the table.

  “A large sum for such a poor city,” Dethan said. It was another dig, Selinda thought. But why should he care if he was getting what he wanted. The gold should have been enough for him. And yet she sensed that his respect for her father was very low indeed and she didn’t know how to feel about that. She prayed she had not released a viper in her father’s house. Then again, she thought as she looked over at Grannish, there was already a viper at her father’s neck, poised to strike at any moment.

  “You will be worth your weight in gold if you can achieve what we have been trying to do for nearly five decades. Before then the Redoe were just raiders who came in occasionally and stole from the outlying farms. Now they are two thousand strong and organized like we have never seen before.”

  “What else do you know about them?” Dethan asked.

  “I’m afraid that’s all we know,” the grand said.

  “Have you no intelligence? None at all?” This remark Dethan aimed down the table, toward the general.

  “It’s not as though a spy would blend in,” Firru snapped.

  “The Redoe are red-skinned,” Selinda whispered to Dethan.

  Dethan smiled internally. It pleased him
that she wasn’t willing to just sit aside and dry her tears while he took over and fixed the mess of her life. He had not deemed her to be so weak from the ways he had seen her stand up to Grannish in public, all the while knowing she would pay for it later. That reminded him. Tonight he would have to remember to ask her just how far Grannish had gone against her. He suspected he’d made more than a little impression; otherwise, why would Selinda have sought him out?

  “And it did not occur to you to find a spy of their coloring?” Dethan asked.

  The general sputtered, “You know nothing of what you speak! The Redoe are not to be trusted. Not a single one of them! They would simply hand us false information and it would be a waste of our time!”

  “Then I see where I am to start,” Dethan said, turning his back on the general. “I will begin immediately. If all goes well, I should have the problem resolved by turntide.”

  “Turntide!” the general spluttered, his face turning a mottled red. “Sor, I but live for the time! Then my liege will see what a liar and a deceiver you are! What say you, your most honorable?” General Firru said to the grand. “The Redoe routed by turntide or this … this liar thrown into the dungeons by turntide!”

  “Sor Dethan, turntide is only sixty or so sunsets away.”

  “I am aware of that,” Dethan said with a respectful nod. “These are your conditions, your most honorable? Because I face them without any fear if they are.”

  The grand fiddled with his fork for a long minute as the table awaited his words in near total silence. Everyone had ceased to eat.

  “Very well. The Redoe routed by turntide or you will reside in my dungeons until I say otherwise. I do hope you know what you are doing, Sor Dethan, because I would hate to see you in the cold, dark belly of this fortress.”

  “Believe me, your most honorable,” Dethan said, “I have been in far worse places.”

  “Very well, then. And since you will be working hand in hand with General Firru, you will have the same benefits afforded to him. Your chambers will be moved to the main level of the fortress. You will be given a page of your own.”