The Fire Lord's Lover Part 13

"You do not need to trouble yourself," protested Sir Robert. "I have already memorized mine, so it's no longer needed."

Sophia appeared taken aback by this. "Good heavens, there are so many twists and turns I can't imagine ever knowing them all."

Sir Robert shrugged. "I've been trained to such tasks, your ladyship. It's not as difficult as it sounds."

His intense eyes stayed focused on Ca.s.s and she nodded, accepting the map from his hand. She would memorize it at once. She rose. "If you will excuse me, I think I shall take a turn about the grounds."

Lady Verney squinted up at her. "I could use a bit of fresh air myself. Sir Robert?"

A commotion at the door made them all turn to see the king enter the small parlor. Sir Robert inclined his head regretfully. "Alas, but you'll have to excuse me. Duty calls."

Ca.s.sandra's heart sank. She had so hoped to speak with Sir Robert to see if he could help her puzzle out the mystery of her husband. Lady Verney rose and took Ca.s.s's arm and led her from the room, down several hallways and through some interesting formal rooms, until they reached a pair of doors that opened onto a garden.

Both she and Sophia took in deep breaths of the fresh air, and Ca.s.s reminded herself she should not look for help from anyone. Thomas had warned her she was on her own and if Sir Robert truly wished to speak to her he would find a way to do so.

Lady Verney giggled. "I think I owe you an apology. They are quite... set in their ways, are they not?"

Ca.s.sandra smiled. "It's beyond me how they can spend so much time discussing fashion. But I suppose that's all they're accustomed to doing."

"Indeed." Sophia frowned, seemingly as saddened by that fact as Ca.s.s. They walked along a white gravel path, the stones sparkling in the sunlight. A profusion of late-blooming flowers surrounded them, their scents combining into a heady perfume. Ahead of them flowed a fountain of yellow fire, the flames arcing out from a center column and spilling into the surrounding bowl.

"I had hoped," continued Sophia, "that the king's court would be more welcoming toward you than Mor'ded's. Lady Agnes hasn't had the opportunity to influence them as yet."

Ca.s.sandra stared up at her tall friend. She hadn't realized... well, it had been very kind of her. But how could she explain it didn't quite matter? "Thank you, Sophia. They were much more welcoming."

Her friend smiled a bit. "I suppose it will always be hard for you, being married to the champion and all."

They had reached the fountain and Ca.s.s leaned forward, allowing the yellow fire to wash over her hands, trickle through her fingers. "Like the fire on the palace walls; it's gently warm and yet doesn't burn. I think it's been harder for me to adjust to the wealth of magic."

"You'll get used to that. When I first arrived, I dreamed of fire every night and thought I'd wither from the heat. I should probably freeze if I lived anywhere else now."

Lady Ca.s.sandra looked up at the flaming walls of the palace and nodded. "I suppose one can get used to anything."

They walked the grounds for a time, idly talking. Ca.s.s occasionally brought up a question about the elven lord, but although Sophia had been surrounded by fire magic for many years, she knew little about the Imperial Lord himself. It seemed Dominic knew more about Mor'ded than anyone else at court.

And Ca.s.sandra couldn't be sure of ever getting her husband to trust her enough to share that knowledge.

"I'm sorry, Lady Ca.s.sandra. I must return to the palace for a fitting. Will you accompany me?"

They stood amid a hedge of bushes cut into swirling cones. Ca.s.s couldn't quite bring herself to return to the palace yet. "Do not worry, Lady Verney. I have the map Sir Robert gave me. I shall find my way back to the palace without getting lost."

Sophia patted her hand. "That's good, then. But remember; do not enter the shaded areas. They are places of strange magics." She frowned at Ca.s.s. "Perhaps I should show you."

Ca.s.sandra sighed. She'd never had a friend before to worry about her and couldn't decide whether she liked it or not. She removed the folded map from her skirt and opened it. A small sliver of paper fell from inside onto the clipped lawn, and she glanced quickly at Sophia to see if she had noticed. But the other woman had pulled the watch on her neck chain up to her face to squint at the numbers. Ca.s.s placed her foot over the paper and studied the map.

Nearly two-thirds of the palace interior and a third of the outside grounds had been shaded with wavy lines.

Lady Verney pointed at them. "These are the places to avoid. Now, this is where we are, see? There are three palace layouts, to show you each floor, and these are the stairs that will take you to each. Are you sure you can devise the sense of it?"

Ca.s.sandra had studied maps much more complicated than this one. "I shall manage, Lady Verney, never fear."

The taller woman took a step down the path. "I really must go. But perhaps next time you should take one of your servants with you for guidance. And for propriety's sake, of course."

"Of course."

Ca.s.s watched her gather up her peac.o.c.k-colored skirts and hurry down the path. The moment she rounded a corner, Ca.s.sandra removed her foot from the paper and picked it up, reading it quickly before stuffing it into her mouth and chewing with a grimace. Feeling a bit like a goose, but unable to think of a ladylike way to dispose of it, she swallowed with a gulp. And then pondered Sir Robert's hastily scrawled note.

Your husband may be sympathetic to our cause. He hates his father.

Could it be possible? Could Dominic be capable of such a strong emotion? Apparently Sir Robert had noticed the undercurrents between Dominic and his father and come to that startling conclusion. She didn't know how he could be sure when she hadn't been able to understand their relationship herself. The elven did not act by human standards. And did Sir Robert really think that would be enough to sway Dominic to their cause? Just because the general held no love for his father didn't mean he would aid the Rebellion in having Mor'ded deposed. And what did Sir Robert expect her to do with the information?

Ca.s.s had the sinking feeling he was leaving it up to her to decide. But it had to be obvious to Sir Robert that although Dominic viewed her as his possession, he held no deep love for her. To approach Dominic with the truth about her marriage might very likely get her killed.

Or set her free. Their secrets from each other held them apart more than anything else. Was this the way to a true relationship between them? Her husband wanted her; she could be sure of that given his jealous reaction the other night. But would it be enough to protect her? She didn't know. And Thomas had told her to put her task before aiding Sir Robert.

Truth be told, she wanted to be honest with Dominic. She wanted to know if her feelings could ever be returned.

Ca.s.sandra folded the map, picked up her skirts, and headed back to the palace, determined to find her husband.

But it appeared he had left the palace, along with his father, and no one knew when they might return or where they might be. Rumor had it that Mor'ded had instigated a search for a family who refused to bring their child to the upcoming trials, but Dominic's absence remained a mystery. Ca.s.s retired early, but her husband did not return to their apartments that night. By the following morning, Ca.s.s had memorized the map Sir Robert had given her. And remembered Gwen's unique magical gift.

"Gwendolyn," she asked while sliding her arm into the sleeve of her day dress, "do you know where General Raikes has gotten himself off to?"

"Oh, my lady, I thought ye'd never ask! Ye've been moping about the apartments so."

Ca.s.s tried not to flush. "Can you use your gift to find him?"

"Of course," said Gwen, closing her eyes. "He's that way." And she pointed at the north wall of their apartments.

Ca.s.sandra frowned then picked up the map from where she'd placed it on the marble-topped table and opened it up. "Can you locate him using this?"

"La, I've never tried such a thing before, my lady." But the girl eagerly bent her blonde head over the paper and traced a finger across the surface of it, slowly coming to a stop outside the palace, on the farthest edge of the grounds. The area around her fingernail showed a miniature forest, with a square box drawn inside and shaded to indicate dangerous magic.

"What is that place?" breathed May, looking over their shoulders.

"I think"-Gwen squinted her hazel eyes at Ca.s.s-"he's in the elven garden. They say the Imperial Lord made it as a reminder of his homeland, but n.o.body's ever been brave enough to go near it, my lady, 'cept the champion. Even the Imperial Lord don't go there anymore. Mayhap ye should wait until he returns home."

Ca.s.s squared her shoulders. "Nonsense. I shall be perfectly fine."

The two girls exchanged worried looks.

"And I don't want either of you telling anyone else where I've gone, do you understand?"

Both girls quickly nodded, unable to deny their mistress a thing. Ca.s.sandra blessed the impulse she'd had to rescue the girls from the kitchens. She'd never had such loyal servants.

May and Gwen reluctantly announced their satisfaction with her appearance, and she bid them farewell, telling them she wouldn't return until evening. They both offered to go with her and Ca.s.s was sorely tempted. But she wanted to be alone with Dominic, so she refused them and gathered her courage as she made her way through the palace.

Lady Verney beckoned to her with a wave of her gloved hand as Ca.s.s pa.s.sed the king's withdrawing room, but she pretended not to see. Although Sophia had tried her best to champion Ca.s.sandra, the king's court had quickly picked up the mannerisms of Mor'ded's and started to avoid her. Although they did so with pity on their faces instead of disdain. Ca.s.s couldn't be sure which felt worse.

But it did give her the freedom to roam the palace grounds, for no one would think to ask about her.

When Ca.s.sandra stepped out onto the manicured gra.s.s, she wished she had thought to bring a shawl, for the sun hid behind the clouds and the air felt chill. But she wore a wool gown with elbow-length sleeves and a flannel petticoat, and her wide hoops blocked most of the wind. Indeed, as she made her way across the lawn to the wooded area in back of the palace, the force of the gale against her skirts threatened to bowl her over. Gwen had insisted she adopt the new fan hoops, which extended so far out from her hips that she could rest her elbows upon them.

She hurried into the copse of trees, gasping as she caught her breath, the st.u.r.dy trunks protecting her from the increasing force of the wind. A storm brewed; she could smell it but she refused to turn back.

Lady Ca.s.sandra ventured deeper into the woods, her skirts more than a nuisance as they caught on every branch and twig. It seemed unnaturally silent under the canopy, a stillness about the woods that made her skin crawl. Something rustled in the brush, and a black shape skittered off into the greenery.

Ca.s.s eased off her girdle, grateful for the heavy buckle. If some animal threatened her it would make an adequate weapon. She stepped lightly now, avoiding the snap of twig or leaf, wary of breaking the silence of these woods. She followed a path for a time and then checked the map in her head again. Yes, she must leave this trail and strike out northeast.

She had a good sense of direction, but even then, when she finally clawed her way through some dense undergrowth to confront a wall of solid greenery, she couldn't be sure she'd found the elven garden.

Until she heard the singing.

Not singing, really, more of a chiming, whistling sound. What in heaven could create such a haunting melody? Or more accurately, what in that fabled land of Elfhame?

Lady Ca.s.sandra studied the wall of green, looking for some way to get inside. The leaves of the plants covering the wall-if indeed a wall lay behind them as she supposed-shivered as she took a step closer to the barrier. Surely the wind had caused that movement... but still Ca.s.s backed away suspiciously. Perhaps some animal hid within the undergrowth. She stepped forward and swung her belt at the vines, hoping to scare away anything lurking behind them, and glimpsed red stone beneath the green. The same brilliant red stone that comprised the walls of Firehame Palace.

And yet she'd not seen or smelled a hint of the magical fire that permeated the palace and grounds. Perhaps the shading on the map was just used as a deterrent to visitors. Or so she prayed.

Ca.s.s smiled grimly as she buckled her girdle back around her waist. Now she just needed to find the gate. But after several hours of walking the length of the wall, she could not find an entrance. The melody within the private garden seemed to be calling to her more urgently, and Ca.s.sandra decided a more direct approach was required. She kicked off her shoes, untied her hoops and stepped out of them, and used her belt to hitch up her skirts. She would use the vines to climb the wall.

Not for a moment did she consider giving up. She would not go back to her apartments and sit around like a goose and wait for her courage to fail her. She feared she would change her mind and the opportunity would be lost forever.

Besides, she had climbed trees taller than this at her father's estate. She had enough elven blood to make her lithe and nimble, and her gift of dance kept her agile enough to scale a simple wall.

She had not counted on the capriciousness of the vines.

They shivered again when she clasped the st.u.r.dy trunk, and this time she felt certain the movement had nothing to do with the wind, for even though the breeze penetrated the clear area around the wall, it barely had enough force to stir her hair against her cheeks. She carefully placed a foot on a vine, and then another. They looked strong enough to hold her weight but as soon as she began to climb they bent beneath her, dropping her back to the ground.

"You will not stop me," she muttered as if the plants had some sort of intelligence. She huffed at her own foolishness and pushed through the greenery until she found the blocks of the wall. Like the castle, they weren't entirely smooth, and she fit her fingers within the cracks between them and pulled herself up. Somehow her feet got tangled up in a web of interlaced vines and she fell backward, landing in a heap of dead leaves and petticoats.

She tried again and the same thing happened.

Ca.s.sandra got to her feet, eyed the trunk of the vine, and began to tear away the small tendrils that sprouted from it, determined to prevent her feet from getting tangled up again. The storm intensified; she could feel the gale finally penetrate the woods behind her, and the vine shuddered and creaked from the force of it.

She tossed away the ripped greenery and reached for more when she felt a pressure about her waist. She glanced down to discover that a vine had wrapped itself around her. Indeed, as she watched, another snaked around her feet, and she tried to jump to avoid it, but the one about her waist held her firmly in place.

Another vine curled around her left arm and Ca.s.s tried to tear it off, a wave of horrified panic overwhelming her. She screamed, scrabbling at the leafy plant with her fingers while simultaneously trying to twist her body from the hold of the one about her waist. She screamed again while even more vines reached out to trap her, until one fleshy tuber managed to wrap itself around her head and over her mouth, effectively smothering her cries and pressing against her nose until she couldn't breathe.

Lady Ca.s.sandra continued to struggle until her vision faded to black.

Nine.

A strangled scream pulled Dominic from his dark thoughts. It came from over the garden wall, and it sounded like... "Ca.s.sandra!"

Dominic vaulted off the pavilion that he'd been standing in and ran through the orderly garden, skirting small ponds and beds of flowers and sculpted bushes. Had he truly recognized her voice in that cry?

He mentally scoffed. Who else would dare to breach the elven garden's walls?

Without hesitating a whit, Dominic leaped up the stone wall surrounding the garden, grateful for the elven blood that allowed the feat, and crouched like a cat on the narrow capstone. He scanned the guardian vine covering the outside wall, looking for a hint of movement, but the gale from the coming storm shook all the leaves in his vision and the screams had been too far away for him to judge the location.

"d.a.m.n."

The wind tore the hair away from his face and billowed his linen shirt out behind him as Dominic leaped again, over the green vines to the ground outside the garden. Dirt puffed up from his boots as he landed and he rolled, then sprang to his feet with a grace and speed that would have had the peasants crossing themselves in fear.

Dominic kept his eyes on the greenery as he ran beside it. His cursed father and his clever traps. Why should Mor'ded waste his magic when the plants that the Imperial Lord of Verdanthame created with his power could prove just as deadly? Although Dominic had been grateful the vines guaranteed his solitude within the elven garden, that had been before he'd married Lady Ca.s.sandra.

He wanted to curse her, but he could not. For he suspected that she'd sought him out, and the thought that she could not stay away from him almost made him smile. He quickly suppressed the desire, another thing he had to blame her for, but ran faster, scanning the leafy greenery. He had no doubt the nimble girl had tried to scale the wall to get to him. She possessed a reckless bravery and a willful heart that betimes he admired, and at others, terrified him.

Dominic had given some thought to the condition of the men who had kidnapped Ca.s.sandra and he'd come to the conclusion that her repertoire consisted of more than just love dances. Someone had taught her a death dance, and she had killed both of those men with seemingly little effort. She could have learned such a thing only from a few sources, the most likely being the Rebellion.

His wife had been trained as an a.s.sa.s.sin.

She hadn't been the first a.s.sa.s.sin the Rebellion had sent against an Imperial Lord, nor did he doubt that she would be the last. But they'd been clever this time, keeping the girl innocent while training her. Using Dominic to position her so closely to his father.

Dominic had little reason to expose her. He knew she'd fail in an attempt to kill Mor'ded, just as he had failed so long ago...

He tried not to think of Jack. Indeed, he ran faster, hoping the exertion would wipe the sudden thought from his mind. But he feared that his wife had managed to thaw his frozen heart for he could not stop the visions from replaying through his memory this time.

He saw himself young and brash, having just won his first skirmish against the finest of Imperial Lord Breden's troops. He'd entered the hall amid cheers and adoration, and he'd been so green he'd allowed it to go to his head. He had gotten drunk and c.o.c.ky... and his father had told him he was due for another trial. Dominic had told him to go to h.e.l.l and had tried to gut him with his sword.

Mor'ded had his guards haul Dominic to his room and had held him there with a ring of gray fire. The Imperial Lord had then summoned Jack. Jack, another slave who had not been raised from his lowly status because of his skill for battle. Jack, who had done nothing more harmful than befriending Dominic.

At first Dominic had thought that his father would only threaten to harm Jack.

But Mor'ded had made his son watch his best and only friend burn to death, while taunting him the entire time to call forth his black magic to defend him. And Dominic had failed. Just as he'd failed later to save Mongrel. After that Dominic had sought out Ador, relieved that the dragon, at least, could survive his company unscathed.

With a will borne of desperation, Dominic erased the vision of Jack's bones appearing through a haze of red fire.

He'd thought he'd buried that vision so deeply that it would never resurface. d.a.m.n his wife for making him acknowledge his human heart. It opened up too many old wounds.

A flutter of lace in the wall of green caught his eye, bringing his feet and, thankfully, his thoughts to a skidding halt. He reached out and tore the lace cap from the grasp of spiky tendrils and caught a flash of burgundy wool beneath the green. He knew these vines, had watched as they'd caught rabbits and unwary robins within their coils. They twined around their catch until nothing could be seen but leafy greenery and then belched out fur and bones like some great toothy beast.

Off to the far left, partially hidden in a thatch of tall gra.s.s, lay a set of hoops and a pair of low-heeled shoes. But thank the king for his fondness for lacy caps to adorn women's heads, for otherwise Dominic might never have found the exact place the foliage had swallowed his wife.

Dominic spread his fingers, calling forth orange fire instead of red, hoping to avoid harming Ca.s.sandra while he burned away the vines. He made his fire a narrow stream, cutting through the smaller vines first, hoping to reveal the rest of his wife's body. He had faced battle time and again but had yet to feel the sort of panic he felt now as he spied a stomacher laden with garnets, a tiny waist encircled with a leather belt.

For the garments did not move. She wasn't breathing.

The plant sent out a questing vine in his direction, moving so stealthily he did not see it until it wrapped around his leg, injecting those barbed thorns into his flesh. He cursed, cut the vine away from the mother plant, and shook the thing off his leg. He felt the thorns rip out of his flesh with the movement.

With calm fury Dominic slashed around the outline of Ca.s.sandra's body, the vines oozing purplish sap, quivering wildly from his a.s.sault. If it wouldn't have harmed his wife, he would have burned the entire garden wall of greenery. For when he'd cleared enough of the bush away he could see where green spikes had plunged into Ca.s.sandra's own flesh, seeking to suck her dry.