The Fire Lord's Lover Part 18

He took the seat next to her, flipping back the skirt of his somber blue coat. "The way you manage to clear a room." He waved a heavy hand about the table. Other than a few couples sitting far down the linens from them, the room lay empty.

Ca.s.s felt her face heat. The hope of the future of England sat next to her and she valued his opinion. Yearned for his respect and admiration. She took the napkin away from her mouth and slowly placed it on the table.

"A neat trick," he continued. "I wish I had the knack of it."

His face did not betray a hint of sarcasm. Indeed, he managed to look most sincere, his dark heavy brows lowered in earnest, his mouth curved into a gentle smile. He wore an enormous white wig, liberally powdered with the finely crushed stone that mimicked the elven's silvery sparkle. Only one of his bulk could manage to look distinguished in it.

Ca.s.s smiled tentatively back at him, relieved he hadn't been making fun of her. Perhaps he thought she'd cultivated the court's disdain on purpose.

He leaned closer to her. "It is most fortuitous for me, for at last I have a moment to speak with you alone."

She nodded, a tremor of uneasiness running through her. Surely he meant to ask about his note, his suggestion that Dominic hated his father. He would want to know what she had discovered, and she had to warn him. But how much could she reveal to him without betraying her husband? How far could she trust the Rebellion?

Ca.s.s suddenly realized that although she would gladly give her life for England, she could not do the same with Dominic's.

Sir Robert's voice dropped to a murmur. "We haven't much time. Thomas needs your help."

It was the last thing she'd expected to hear. She studied the portly man, realized that he struggled with some other, greater matter than the conversion to their cause of the elven lord's son.

"Where is he?" she breathed. "Is Thomas all right?" She struggled to keep the hysteria from her voice. It had never occurred to her that Thomas might need her help, that he would be in danger. He'd been her teacher and she'd held the utmost confidence in him.

"He's fine. You haven't heard the rumors?"

"Of what?"

A footman pa.s.sed their seats with fruit tarts on a silver tray, and Sir Robert gave a hearty laugh and helped himself. "These will be the death of me, I'm sure." He bit into the sugary crust and waited for the footman to reach the other stragglers at the table. His voice lowered again. "Mor'ded has returned with a young girl destined for tomorrow's trials. She's one of Breden's half-breeds and has potential for great magic, powers that could be useful to our cause. Her mother agreed to allow us to hide her, and the girl agreed to give up the promise of Elfhame to aid our cause, but-what is it?"

This secret Ca.s.sandra had to share. She could not allow the atrocities to continue and she felt sure Dominic would agree. "The children-those who prove powerful enough to be sent to Elfhame..."

He did not ask questions, just waited for her to continue with his eyes riveted to hers.

"They... are destroyed. I do not know if the elven lords can even return to their home world. There is much I still-you are not surprised."

"No. We have long suspected, but... are you sure?"

"He showed me." She did not need to say who. "I saw the children's ashes."

This time Sir Robert betrayed a reaction, the blood draining from his face. But he quickly recovered. "What else did you find out from him?"

Ca.s.s shook her head, gold thread winking from her lappets. "You will have to ask him that yourself."

"So that is the way of it?"

"I have not wavered from my intentions," she hastened to a.s.sure him. "But as far as my husband goes... he will have to make a commitment himself."

"I believe he will-if only to protect you. In the meantime, keep our secrets as securely as you keep his. You will help Thomas?"

Ca.s.sandra knew what he asked. "He wants to free the girl?"

Sir Robert nodded. "A traveling company will perform Romeo and Juliet tonight." He grimaced, well-known for his distaste of the theater. "No one else in the palace will want to miss it. You must devise a way to leave after the first scene and meet Viscount Althorp in the small parlor where we first spoke. Do you remember?"

The same footman neared them again, this time with a tray of sugared fruit. Sir Robert did not wait for her answer. Instead he rose with a m.u.f.fled grunt and gave her a small bow. "So you will ask the general to join the king in his box tonight?" he said in a loud voice. "We would be most honored. The king admires the cut of his suit, you see."

Ca.s.s gave him a watery smile, and he turned and left, s.n.a.t.c.hing a sparkling strawberry from the footman's tray as he pa.s.sed. She was the only one left in the dining room now, and slaves began to slip in to clean up the mess. The liveried servants ignored them as one would a dog beneath their heels, but several times Ca.s.s caught the slaves glancing her way with hidden smiles, which she returned with muted delight.

She'd made some friends in the palace, at least.

That evening Lady Ca.s.sandra sat at her dressing table and frowned at the mirror, thinking that since she'd come to live at the palace, she spent entirely too much time changing her wardrobe.

"No, Gwendolyn, not that one."

The girl held up the silk gown that required enormously wide hoops and tsked. "But I'm sure all the other ladies will be wearing the like. The king admires the fashion-"

"Not tonight. Fetch me the black wool."

Gwen's face fell and Ca.s.s immediately felt contrite for snapping at the girl. But she had to wear something less restrictive, for she felt sure they wouldn't rescue the captive girl without a fight, and the black would help her blend into the shadows.

And she should admit to herself that she felt on edge with nerves. Thank heavens Dominic had been absent from the palace today, training his men. He surely would have realized something was afoot. And she couldn't tell him what she intended to do. He would only stop her in his personal quest to keep her safe.

Gwen slowly dragged out the black gown and scowled at the unadorned woolen. "It won't fit yer hoops."

"I know. Just fetch the black flannel petticoats."

The girl grudgingly obliged, then with a wicked gleam to her crystal eyes, held forth a stomacher sewn with jet beads. But Ca.s.s did not want anything that would catch the light, and when she told Gwen she would wear the plain embroidered one instead, the child looked on the verge of tears.

The child's obsession with fancy clothing would drive Lady Ca.s.sandra mad.

When Ca.s.s stood fully dressed before the looking gla.s.s, pulling on a long pair of black silk gloves, she nodded in approval while Gwen hung her head in despair.

"Ye shall look so drab, my lady."

"That is the point, Gwendolyn." Ca.s.s hesitated. She felt sure Thomas had a plan. But Thomas did not have Gwen. And unlike her husband, she trusted in her servant's loyalty. The court was now abuzz with the gossip of the trials and of the children who had been sequestered for the honor. No mention had been made of a powerful girl who had to be dragged to the palace for them. Would Mor'ded be so arrogant as to keep the girl with the rest of the other children?

Never underestimate the enemy.

"Shall I call for May to do yer hair?" asked Gwen, her voice rising hopefully. "She can twine it so lovely no one might notice the plainness of yer gown."

"Not yet." Ca.s.s fetched the map of the palace from the drawer and laid it out flat on the marble table. Gwen glanced from the paper to her mistress with growing curiosity.

"I want you to find someone again for me."

Gwen bounced to her side. "The champion is on the west grounds, my lady. I don't need my magic to tell ye that."

"That's not who I want you to find. Have... have you heard of the children awaiting the trials?"

Gwen smiled dreamily. "Aye, and lucky they be. But everyone knows where they are. Even the servants. In the old guest rooms of the palace."

Ca.s.s's suspicions solidified. "I think it's possible one of the children may be... housed in a different location."

"But why?"

"It's hard to explain. Can you do this for me without asking too many questions?"

Those wise hazel eyes took in Ca.s.s's appearance again, flicked to the map, and the girl nodded. "I trust ye. But I don't see as how I can help. I wouldn't know what to seek, ye see."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Well, when ye asked me to look fer the champion, I could see his light clear as day on the map."

"His light?"

"Oh aye." Gwen scratched her head. "The champion's light is near as bright as his father's. He's easy to find."

"So everyone has a light?"

"Aye. May's light looks like it's woven. Cook's light slowly spins like a pig on a roast."

"And mine?"

"Yours dances, my lady. Like it's doing a merry jig."

Ca.s.s smiled at the bemused look on her servant's face. This light that Gwen saw must be a reflection of each person's magic. But how would she be able to recognize someone's light if she'd never seen it in relation to the person before?

"You said the general's light shines brightly? What does it look like compared to mine?"

"Oh, his shines much brighter and wiggles like a flame. Yers is soft, my lady, but... ye see, everyone with the fire magic has a bit of black about it. Mor'ded is the only one whose is completely black."

"I think I see. Not only do you see the strength of their magic, Gwen, but you see what kind of magic they possess as well."

"Then why don't our lights shimmer with red flame, my lady?"

Ca.s.s thought of the black fire Dominic told her about and suppressed a shudder, unwilling to reveal that knowledge to the young girl. "Perhaps because Mor'ded rules with a black scepter. Now, most of the n.o.bles here are related to the fire lord, but there are many who possess magic from other sovereignties. Do you see those as clearly?"

"So that's why some have blue or brown or silver lights! Their magic matches the elven lord's scepter. I should have thought about that before. But it's always been something that's just there... and I never thought about looking for their lights on a map, my lady. Until you had me search fer the champion, that is."

"Be careful not to tell anyone about this, Gwendolyn. You have a unique gift and if it were known... others might want to use it for ill. Can you understand that?"

"Aye. There's some things that shouldn't be found."

Ca.s.s nodded and spread her palms across the map. "What lights do you see?"

"Mor'ded's." A frown. "The champion's. And yers and mine"-she stabbed her finger on the paper-"right here. And May's, in the other room. And Cook's, here in the kitchens. And May's stable boy, outside, here."

Ca.s.s glanced up with a smile.

Gwen shrugged. "He likes May. And he's got a gift with the horses. I like horses."

Lady Ca.s.sandra sighed. It seemed Gwen could focus on the people she knew well, or who were important to her, easier than the others. "Can you see the lesser lights of the n.o.bles?"

Her brow wrinkled in concentration, her pink tongue appeared briefly at the corner of her mouth. "Oh aye, but they're so faint, it's very hard. Except for this here blue one."

Hadn't Sir Robert said the girl was one of Breden's n.o.bles? He ruled with the blue scepter of sky and water! And if she held as much power as the Rebellion guessed... "Where?"

Gwen pointed to a tower near the western end of the palace. "That's an old part of the building and the stones of the tower are so ancient and crumbling, no one dares climb it. Why would they keep one of the children there?"

"Indeed." Ca.s.sandra's suspicions had proven right. They'd kept the girl in a different location than the other children, in a place no one would think to look for her. Thomas might already know this, but if he didn't, she'd just increased their chances of rescuing the girl.

Ca.s.s leaned down and hugged Gwendolyn. She was so young, and yet... "You must speak of this to no one. And if you hear any gossip, don't question anyone about it. Just understand that I'm doing what's best. I'm counting on your loyalty, my dear. My very life may depend upon it."

Those hazel eyes widened to alarming proportions, and Gwen practically whispered her next words. "Of course, my lady."

Ca.s.s folded the map and tucked it back into the drawer. "Now you may call May to arrange my hair. And while she's about it, tell me about this stable boy of hers."

Thirteen.

Dominic felt a keen sense of disappointment when he entered his empty apartments. He'd thought of his wife all day and had antic.i.p.ated the sight of her lovely face. Now he would have to wait to see her at the theater and be doubly cautious in guarding his reaction. But he'd had to stay late with his men, for his distraction had caused several of them to deliver some lucky blows in hand-to-hand combat, and he'd been honor bound to trounce them to prove his ability to lead.

And then it had taken some time to change the guard a.s.signed to protect the tower holding Breden's half-breed. Mor'ded did not know the men the way his general did, would not recognize that only the most b.u.mbling of his fighters had been chosen for the task. It would just make freeing the girl tonight that much easier for Dominic.

Then he'd had to secure some extra mounts and make sure they were stabled in the farthest paddock away from the palace. And while he'd gone about it, the stable boy had told Dominic that he'd finally discovered who had ordered the black stallion be given to Ca.s.sandra on the day they'd ridden to fetch the king.

Dominic entered his bedchamber and sat in the st.u.r.dy oak chair next to the hearth, pulling off his dusty boots while glancing about the room. Ca.s.sandra's feminine touch now permeated the very walls, and to his surprise, he found himself most comfortable among the frippery. It made him feel even more masculine by comparison.

His court clothes had been laid out neatly on the bed, and a cold bath awaited him with a bucket of hot water over the fire to warm it. He grudgingly admitted to himself that servants could be useful in preparing for the constant amus.e.m.e.nts one had to endure in the palace. While he quickly cleaned and changed, he wondered who had suggested Romeo and Juliet. It bored him to tears. He much preferred Hamlet.

Although tonight it really didn't matter what amus.e.m.e.nt the court had planned, for his sole purpose in joining them would be the opportunity to see his wife.

He took the stairs two at a time, grateful that his position as general allowed him the freedom of boots instead of heeled shoes. Gwen had a flair for fashion though, and he had no doubt the girl had chosen his coat of elaborately embroidered red birds with wings of flame and the matching dark red breeches. But his black shirt of ruffles at the throat and sleeves toned down the color, and it suited his fiery mood, and d.a.m.n if he didn't care what he wore, as the only thing that concerned him was his desire to see...

A woman stood in the doorway to the antechamber of the theater. Dominic's heart sank while his face stiffened, and he bowed with fierce precision. He supposed it would be best to get it over with. "Lady Agnes."

She looked flamboyant in a gown that matched the color of her eyes. "La, my champion. I have missed you." She glided to his side and linked her arm with his. "I would ask where you've been, but rumor has already told me."

They entered the antechamber, with its pastelpainted murals of fairies and fauns covering the walls and ceiling. Gilt molding surrounded the artwork and crystal chandeliers exploding with yellow fire made the gold gleam with molten color. Linen-covered tables lined the room, a riot of food overflowing silver platters and china bowls.

"Rumors are often untrue, Aggie," he said, leading her to a private corner of the room. "Beware what you believe."

She went willingly, her eyes shining as she a.s.sumed the wrong reason for his want of privacy. "Oh come now, General! Surely you can't deny this rumor, when it would only lead to your... satisfaction again."

Dominic tried very hard to keep his attention centered on Lady Agnes, but his eyes kept sweeping over the top of her coiffed head for a glimpse of dark brown hair and a smile that could make his chest ache.