Sefoni was straddling him. They were in a carriage, traveling back to Laironn, and her skirt was hiked up to her thighs as she sat facing him in his lap. Her dress was unbuttoned, and her stays were loose. “I want these kisses,” she gasped. “Of course I do, but…”
“But nothing,” he said, mouth on her shoulder.
“I don’t think it’s working.” She had her hands in his hair, which he kept cut short. His dark curls escaped between her fingers as she held onto him.
“The kissing? Well, that’s because you’ve interrupted me.”
“You said that this would mean that you’d come up with an idea to fix Cadon, and I don’t think you’re thinking about that at all.”
He tilted his head back to look up at her. “Well, in that you may be right.”
“I’m distracting you.”
“I enjoy the distraction.” He put his mouth on her clavicle and then kissed his way down over the slope of one of her breasts.
“I enjoy being distracting,” she said in a breathy voice. “But we need a plan.”
He groaned softly. “I thought we were of a like mind about rutting in a carriage.”
She laughed. She kissed his forehead. “Perhaps it could be an incentive.”
He chuckled. “Oh, haven’t you become devious?”
“I am the Dread Sefoni,” she said, hand on his chest, pushing him back into the carriage seat. “You will fear me and obey.”
His jaw went slack and he got that look in his eyes that she liked, the awed and worshipful look. “Oh, I do. I am yours, body and soul, Sefoni. But I don’t think my plans work that way.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t they? If I need them to?”
He laughed softly. “All right, all right, let’s see. We’ll fix Cadon by…” He trailed off.
She waited.
He reached up and slid his hand inside her loosened stays.
She slapped his hand. “Not yet.”
He recoiled, grinning. “Oh, hit me again and I’ll bend you over that seat and take you hard and fast.”
“You could try,” she said, shrugging.
His grin widened.
“Plan,” she said.
“Can you draw fire into you?” he said.
“What?” she said. “No.”
“Are you sure? Have you ever tried?” he said. “Because maybe you could sort of pull the magic out of Cadon?”
“No, I can’t pull magic out. That’s impossible.”
He shrugged. “Well, I did come up with a plan, didn’t I? It’s not a workable plan, but it’s better than I’ve done thus far, so I think I deserve a reward.”
“I don’t think that makes any sense.”
“Show me one of your breasts.”
She felt a little thrill at this command. “You have been looking at my breasts nearly constantly for days. There can be little interest in seeing one again now, can there?”
“Always interested,” he said. “Very interested. They’re exquisite, have I told you that?”
She wriggled against him, smiling, pleased.
He made a growling noise in the back of his throat.
She tugged her loose stays down for a moment and then yanked them back up.
Watching his face go hungry and then disappointed when she was covered again made her body tight in the most lovely of ways. She let out a little mewl.
“That was just a cruel tease, love,” he said, and his voice was gravelly.
“Come up with another plan.”
“We’ll construct a bigger coffin,” he said. “We’ll use you to corral him. You can just ignite into flame and block his path, and we’ll get him back into the bigger coffin whenever we need him that way. We don’t even need to fix him.”
Sefoni raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think Pairce will like that.”
“Oh, Pairce will come around,” said Haid. “After all the blazing things I’ve done for that woman?”
Sefoni shook her head.
“That was another plan,” said Haid. “Show me your other breast?”
Sefoni laughed. “That was a terrible plan as well.”
“I don’t think your incentive idea is working,” said Haid. “Besides, all the blood in my body has rushed away from my brain, and I can’t think properly at all. I need to ease the, er, swelling down here if I’m to get any blood flow where I need it.”
Sefoni laughed again. “I don’t know if I’m the best influence on you, Haid Vortinen.”
He grinned. “I’ll come up with a plan. I will.” He put his hands on her again.
This time, she didn’t have it in her to stop him. She threw her head back and sighed and let him tease her nipples stiff.
WITH THE HELP of her carriage driver, Pairce unloaded Cadon’s coffin. It turned out that it was easy enough to find Maib on Coarth Street because she had a sign out in front of a shop. Maib’s Herbs and Whimsies, it said.
Pairce was able to wheel the coffin on her own, and she pushed it inside the door of the shop, letting the door close behind her.
Inside, shelves of tiny glass bottles greeted her. Some were filled with liquids, others with crushed herbs. It was dark, and the only light came from small flickering candles that sat on the shelves. Many candles had burned low in their places, and wax dripped down in rivulets and rounded mounds.
“How do you expect anyone else to enter the shop if you’ve brought that thing in here?” said a voice.
Pairce turned to see that a short woman with flame-colored hair was perched atop a stool behind a counter. Her hair was not red, not in the way that some of the Islaignians were, it was truly the color of flame. It had oranges, reds, and yellows in it, and even some hints of white, blue, and purple. It glowed, separate from the light of the candles. The woman’s skin glowed, too, faintly, though it was weathered and wizened, wrinkled around her mouth and eyes. She had prominent ears that stuck out under her glowing hair, and they were pointed at the ends.
Fire elves aren’t real, Pairce thought.
But if there was ever a person who looked like a fire elf, it was this woman.
“I need your help,” said Pairce. “You gave a spell to the Cowntess of Bretigern, and I need it to be undone. You are the originator of the spell, so you are the one who can undo it.”
“We haven’t even been introduced,” said the woman. “How do you know if I have done anything that you speak of?”
“Aren’t you Maib?” said Pairce. “Your name is on the sign outside.”
The woman smiled. “And what shall I call you?”
“Pairce. Do you remember the Cowntess? She would have introduced herself with her title, I think. She is the sort of woman to do such things. Of course, perhaps she didn’t want anyone to know who she was—”
Maib leaped down off the counter, surprisingly spry for an old woman, and when she did, Pairce was stunned and stopped talking.
Maib pushed aside the lid to Cadon’s coffin.
“Wait!” screamed Pairce.
Too late.
Cadon sprang out, uttering a growl. He swept a row of glass bottles off one of the shelves.
“Blazes,” said Maib, lifting her hand. Her fingers glowed.
Cadon looked at her fingers and went still. He gazed at the light, mesmerized.
“Well, well, well,” said Maib, her face illuminated by the glow of her fingers and the glow of her hair. “Yes, this is my handiwork, I suppose, but twisted in such a way as I could never have predicted. What is he? What did she make?” She cocked her head to one side, taking him in, fascinated.
“Undo it,” said Pairce.
Maib snorted. “Impossible.”
“Impossible?” said Pairce. “But it’s your spell, and everyone said that the originator of a spell was the only person who could undo it. Did I need the Cowntess, since she cast it? Because she’s dead, and—”
“This isn’t a spell,” said Maib. “What happened to him was not what was intended. Therefore, there is no
counterspell. It can’t be undone.”
Pairce let out a huff of air. “You… no counterspell?”
“None,” said Maib. “Oh, he is a piece of work, isn’t he? And quite nice to look upon, if I do say so myself.” Her voice took on a sultry tinge.
“Don’t talk about him like that,” said Pairce.
Maib chuckled.
“There must be something you can do.”
“Why do you want to undo this?” said Maib. “Surely you like him this way.”
“I want to walk with him in the sun! I want to dance with him in candlelight. I want him to be able to withstand flame and not lose his mind.”
“Ah,” said Maib. “Well, that I can do.”
“You can? But you just said—”
“I can’t undo it, but I can put another enchantment on him. It won’t be easy, and it will be very expensive, and I’ll need your help. I’ll need an anchor, something to keep him tethered as I do the spell. I suppose you are willing to be the anchor?”
Pairce licked her lips. In the stories about fire elves they were tricky and mischievous creatures, often securing promises from unsuspecting humans that were technically true but had unforeseen consequences. However, she had to do this for Cadon, and she had no other options. If there was a sacrifice to be made, she was willing to make it. “Yes.”
Maib nodded once. Then she gestured with her hand and Cadon stumbled backwards, landing half in his coffin. She moved quickly, putting a hand on his chest. She was strong. She shoved Cadon back inside, and slid the lid over him. “We can’t do it up here.” She turned to Pairce. “And we must discuss price.”
“All right,” said Pairce.
“You do have money?”
“I do,” said Pairce, who had brought gold with her.
Maib named a price.
Pairce choked.
Maib smirked.
Pairce sighed. That was everything she had, all her savings. She would have no way to open her seamstress shop if she handed over all that coin, and no real way to make the money again if she spurned Haid and his jobs, which—of course—she should do, just on principle, because of the callous way he had treated Cadon, and because he and Sefoni had killed the Cowntess with no thought of the consequences.
But for that matter, Haid was paying for her house, so if she was going to break with him, she and Cadon would have nowhere to go and no money besides and—
Well, none of this mattered now.
Fixing Cadon was the most important thing. The rest of it was simply details, and she would solve those problems later.
“I’ll have to go and fetch the rest of it,” said Pairce. “I don’t have so much with me.”
“Go, then,” said Maib. “I’ll keep the man here until you return. I will begin the preparations for the spell.”
Pairce left and took her carriage back to her townhouse. She retrieved her gold, feeling apprehensive about everything. What if Maib took her gold and gave her nothing in return? What if this was all a trick?
And what was she going to do for money? Where would she and Cadon live? What would they eat?
When she returned to the shop, she felt anxious, and her stomach was in knots.
“Down here,” called Maib.
Pairce descended a stairwell in the back of the shop, and it was long and narrow. The lower she got, the warmer it got, and she could see flames dancing below.
When she arrived at the bottom of the steps, Maib had Cadon there and also his coffin, but Pairce couldn’t conceive of how it was the woman had gotten it down these stairs.
There was fire everywhere. It burned up in long trenches that were made of metal and that surrounded and crisscrossed the floor. They seemed to be fed by a series of oil and wicks, like lamps. But the flame didn’t burn quite like regular flame. It was too blue in the center, and it burned too bright. There was also a decided lack of smoke, which Pairce couldn’t understand.
Cadon was bound with a dark cord, his arms tight against his sides as the cord wrapped round and round him, biting into his clothes and his flesh beneath. He stood still, but he snarled and struggled against the cord. Whatever it was made of, it held him fast, however.
“The money,” said Maib, insistent.
Pairce handed it over.
Maib looked into the bags of coin, weighing them in her hands. Seemingly satisfied, she set them aside. She nodded at Pairce. “Come here.”
Pairce went to the woman, who smeared something hot and sticky on Pairce’s cheeks and forehead. Maib blew on it, and Pairce felt it like hot sparks burrowing into her flesh.
“There,” said Maib. “That should do. Now, you must go to him and hold him.”
“What do you mean hold him?”
“Wrap your arms around him,” said Maib, “and hold tight. You must not let go, no matter what, and you will wish to let go, because you will be frightened. But if you let go, all will be lost and he will be trapped in whatever form he is when you let go.”
“Form he…” Pairce furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Just hold on and don’t let go,” said Maib.
“But—”
“This is the only way, Pairce,” said Maib. “Now, go to him and wrap your arms around him.” She cocked her head to one side. “There’s no chance you’re carrying his child, is there?”
“What?” said Pairce. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Have you lay with him?” said Maib.
“I drink the tea daily,” said Pairce. “I do not think that my… I may not even be capable… No.”
“Pity,” said Maib. “It would be much easier if you were pregnant. But we’ll muddle through as best we can anyway.” She nodded at Cadon. “Go on, then. Hold him.”
Pairce went to the growling, struggling Cadon and wrapped her arms around him, He was broad, and her arms could not meet around him, especially not with his arms tied down against his chest, because his arms were enormous. She held on as best she could.
“Got him?” said Maib.
“I think so,” said Pairce.
“Excellent,” said Maib. “Let’s begin.” She opened her palm, and her hand— well, Pairce hardly knew what happened. It became a flame hand, no longer flesh but composed entirely of flame. At first, it was hand-shaped, but then the flames twisted and elongated and grew, and suddenly shot across the room into Cadon’s chest.
Cadon jerked.
Pairce’s grip nearly slipped.
Cadon lit up, hot—blazingly hot.
Pairce yelped, but she didn’t let go.
Cadon’s features twisted and changed, swimming on his face. His body dwindled and shrank.
Pairce tightened her grip on him, uttering a cry. Was Maib going to make Cadon back into the man he had once been? But she’d said she couldn’t undo—
No, Cadon was not a man. He had fur. And teeth. And paws and claws. He was a bound, large monstrous cat on his hind legs, roaring, snapping his teeth.
Pairce screamed.
“Don’t let go,” snapped Maib.
Pairce didn’t.
Cat-Cadon twisted his mouth and got his teeth into her shoulder.
Pain burst within her like an explosion. Blood welled up. She shrieked.
Maib shot another flame across the room at Cadon.
It hit him and he went hot again.
Now, he was changing, features twisting as before.
This time, he was a wolf, and he bit her other shoulder.
Blood soaked her blouse, but she held on.
Cadon changed again and again. He became all manner of horrid cats, things she had never seen before—huge fierce things with stripes or spots or sleek black skin and yellow eyes. Some of them bit her, others she evaded.
He became bears—all kinds—black and brown and pure white, like the ones in the cold climates north of Islaigne.
He became snakes, some that hissed and some that rattled and some that squeezed.
Then he
became rodents, and these were the hardest of all, because they were small, and she had to squeeze him between both hands and it hurt very badly when he bit her fingers.
She was covered in bite marks, large and small. She was bleeding badly.
She began to feel woozy, and she was losing her strength. She felt lightheaded, and she thought she might have lost too much blood. She fought to focus, fought to hold on, fought and fought as Cadon changed and then went hot and then changed again.
In the distance, she could hear Maib, and the woman was laughing. It was a horrid laugh, like a cackle, and it went on and on and on.
Pairce clutched a white mouse in her hand, wincing as it sank its teeth into her thumb. It turned its beady red eyes on Pairce accusingly.
She let out a low moan. She could not bear this for much longer. Surely she was going to die from loss of blood and Cadon would be trapped as a mouse for the rest of his days.
Maib shot another bolt of flame into Mouse-Cadon.
He heated up, blisteringly hot against Pairce’s hands.
Pairce held on through the heat, watching to see what he would become next.
But as the heat faded, she felt herself fading too. The world was going black at the edges. Her head hurt, and it was pulsing, and it was too hot in this room. The flames were making her sweat. She tried to focus, but her eyelids were heavy, and they demanded she give in, just slip away, let go…
CHAPTER TWENTY
CADON WAS OUT in the rage, the heat and the flame, insensible to anything other than this empty anger.
Then he felt a sharp pain, as if someone had just thrust a knife in above his belly button. The knife was barbed, and it wouldn’t come out of him. It sank hot, painful spikes inside, anchoring itself, and he was tugged away from the flame, tugged and tugged through pulsing agony.
He sputtered and opened his eyes.
There were flames everywhere, and Pairce was holding onto him, but her face was buried against his chest, and she wasn’t moving.
“Ah, finally,” said the voice of Maib, who Cadon had heard before being pulled out into the rage when his coffin had been opened. He blinked at the small woman, at her glowing hair and glowing skin and pointing ears.
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