Heart of Fire (39 page)

With a deep breath, Fynna
nodded.

The key fit perfectly into the lock
and turned with ease. Fynna gasped as Jessalyne swung the doors
wide. Like faded panes of stained glass, Fynna’s wings rested on
the large middle shelf. Sryka had nearly stripped them clean. Only
small patches of iridescent color remained.

A great wrenching sound erupted from
Fynna. “No, no, no...” she moaned, covering her face with her
hands. She sank to her knees, unable to look at her desecrated
wings. Sobs racked her small body.

With a lump in her throat, Jessalyne
kneeled beside her friend. “I promise we’ll make this right. We
will.” She wanted to believe that. She glanced at the wings again.
The underside of the middle shelf held a small latched door. She
stuck her nail in the groove and pushed it open. A book fell out.
Weird runes scarred the blood red leather covering.

“Fynna, I think I’ve found what I
was looking for.”

“Jessalyne? Are you in here?”
Ertemis’s voice rang out from the other room.

“Yes, in the other room.”

He leaned through the door, his
broad shoulders tensing as his hands gripped the opening. “What’s
wrong? Is Fynna hurt?”

“No...yes. Her wings.” Jessalyne
nodded toward the shelf.

He winced at what was left of
Fynna’s once beautiful wings. “Can you—”

Jessalyne cut him off with a
shrug.

Fynna exhaled one last sob and
stood, knuckling the tears off her face. Without taking her eyes
off her wings, she spoke softly. “I’m going to the gardens. I need
to be alone for a while.”

“Of course.” Jessalyne rose and
brushed her skirt off. “I’ll start studying this book
immediately.”

Fynna wandered past Ertemis, her
footsteps fading as she trudged down the stairs.

“Poor Fynna. I’ve got to find a way
to help her. This might do it.” She heldup the book. “It was tucked
away in a hidden compartment. I don’t recognize any of these
symbols, do you?”

He glanced at it. “Nay. Can you heal
her?”

“It’s not a matter of healing. The
wings need to be reattached. Without the right spell, there’s
nothing I can do.” She shook the book in her hands. “This has to be
it. I’ve read almost every other book in these chambers and found
nothing.”

He reached for her hand. “Come with
me out onto the wall walk.”

She set the book on the worktable as
they passed it. “Why are we going out here?” Maybe for more
kissing.

“To talk.” He released her hand only
to pull her close with an arm around her waist. His fingers stroked
her cheek. “I must leave for a few days.”

She clamped a hand over his. “What?
Why? Where?”

“My lady mother insisted I beg your
hand in marriage. She also insisted she be invited to the
nuptials.”

Jessalyne’s eyes widened. “Elysium?
You’re going to Elysium? You told me yourself time has no meaning
there. You may never return.” She crossed her arms and pursed her
lips. “No. I forbid it.”

He grinned. “You forbid it? I don’t
think anyone has ever forbid me to do anything before.”

“Well, I am, so get used to it, you
big oaf.” She slipped away and moved further down the wall. How
could he do this? What if he missed the wedding? Or never came
back? She needed him right now.

“Jessalyne? Your dress—”

“I’m not talking to you right now.”
A curl of smoke drifted past. She glanced down. The smoke came from
her dress. She breathed deeply to dispel the heat of her
anger.

Ertemis chuckled softly. “Before you
set me on fire, lelaya, I am only delivering a message. I promise I
will not set foot on Elysium.”

She kept her back to him. “Then why
not send a messenger?”

He braced a hand against the wall on
either side of her. “Because no else can find Elysium but me. I
will return well before the ceremony. I still have one more blasted
fitting for my coronation attire.” He kissed her shoulder, his lips
burning against her skin. “Nothing will keep me away from you.
Nothing.”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip to
keep from smiling. There was perverse power in having such a
powerful man bend to her will.

“Jess, sweeting, I give you my
word.” He brushed the hair from the nape of her neck and feathered
kisses across the exposed skin.

She settled her hands over his.
“Will your lady mother come? I would very much like to meet
her.”

“I’m sure she would, if only I could
deliver the invitation.”

She twisted to face him. “Rotten
beast. Fine. Go. I have plenty to do anyway.” She frowned, thinking
of Fynna.

“You’ll find a way to help
her.”

“Did you read my mind now?” She
tried to read his. Nothing.

“Nay. Just the turn of your mouth
and the look in your eyes.” He kissed her forehead. “The view is
breathtaking, isn’t it?”

She snuggled against him and gazed
over the city. “It is. Even more so when you think you’re to be
king of it all.”

He sighed at her words, his face
somber, and his eyes thoughtful. “King. It brings such
responsibility.” Turning his gaze toward her, his expression
softened. “At least you will be at my side as queen.”

“The thought frightens me so much I
don’t even want to think it.” She shook her head, pale strands
coming loose around her face.

“We’ll find our way together.” He
gave her a quick squeeze. “I must go. Brynden will think I’ve
changed my mind. Which reminds me, I want to lend him Petal. He has
no horse of his own and it’s a long walk.”

“Why not give him a horse from the
royal stables?”

“Character is not built through
gifts, my love.”

She held him tightly. “Stay a moment
longer. Please.”

He nodded and she pressed against
him, resting her head on his thickly muscled chest. He smelled of
leather and the spiced soap she’d made for him.

“I love you, Jessalyne.” He kissed
her soundly, his hands slipping down to cup her backside

She gasped. “I love you, too, your
wickedness.”

“Saucy wench.” They walked back
inside and he kissed her once more before he headed off to find
Brynden and Dragon.

The sun felt good on his skin as he
exited into the courtyard and walked toward the stables. Castle
Ryght was the most magnificent castle he’d ever been in. That it
should become his home staggered him.

Servants nodded as he passed,
greeting him with a respectful curiosity. Gathered beneath some
shade trees, a throng of girls watched the castle guards at sword
play. They fell silent as he approached.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he greeted
them as he passed, trying on the role of lord of the
manor.

Whispers filled his ears but before
he could listen closer, he detected footsteps behind him. He
whirled, his cloak billowing out around him.

She yelped, then giggled. “Oh my,
you startled me. You’re unusually quick.” Eyes the blue of an early
spring sky lit a face framed by corn silk curls. A coquettish smile
turned up the corners of the girl’s berry colored lips. She looked
at him from beneath a fringe of kohl-darkened lashes.

“Not in all things, I assure
you.”

Her smile widened and the pink tip
of her tongue played across her teeth. She held out a dainty hand.
“We have not been properly introduced, your highness. I am Salena
LaPierre, daughter of Baron LaPierre.”

He hesitated, unsure of what to do.
Finally, he took her hand and brushed his lips across it the way
he’d seen noblemen do when introduced to a woman of their
class.

“Such a light touch for a man of
your size. I will assume you are Prince Ertemis, the new heir to
Shaldar’s throne?

Dropping her hand, he realized he
should have offered his name in return. He bristled at his lack of
aristocratic skills, an unnecessary reminder of how unfit he felt
to be king. “Aye. And I am leaving unless you have some further
need of me.”

By the gleam in her eye, he saw she
read more into his words than was there.

“Perhaps it is I who should ask if
you have any needs. As a citizen of Shaldar, it is my duty to serve
you, my lord prince.” She toyed with the neckline of her gown, her
fingertips brushing the fullness of her breasts.

Ertemis growled. The scent of Erebus
clung to her, poorly masked from his sensitive nose by her
oversweet perfume.

She mistook his displeasure for lust
and moved toward him. “It’s regrettable that you’ll be forced to
marry that ghostly shrew. I would be more than willing to offer you
a bit of solace, your highness.” She stepped closer, her voice a
little softer. “You will find me quite capable of sating your most
wanton appetites. Compared to Lady Jessalyne, I am a very different
woman.”

Her boldness was startling, but her
belittling of Jessalyne stirred a cold rage in him. Struggling to
compose himself before his temper bested him, he closed his eyes,
only to feel her hand slide down his arm. He wrenched her wrist
away.

She gasped. “A bit rough for my
taste but I will adapt.”

Jessalyne’s voice suddenly filled
his head. Travel safely, my love. I’ll be waiting for you. Her
words hushed the thrum of anger rushing through him. He glanced
toward the north tower and a quiet sense of joy unlike anything
he’d ever known flowed into his being. She loved him. He threw his
head back and laughed.

Tearing her hand away, Salena rubbed
her wrist, her eyes filled with hurt. “Are you laughing at
me?”

“Compared to Lady Jessalyne, you are
a very different woman indeed. As different as dung is from a rose.
Did you really think to seduce me with the scent of my half-brother
still clinging to you?” He shook his head, slitting his eyes at her
as he dismissed her.

“Disrespect your future queen again
and you will be sent home to your baron father with instructions
that your family is no longer welcome in the king’s court. Do you
understand?”

“Yes, your highness,” she hissed
before rushing back to the stunned girls behind her.

Ertemis strode toward the stables,
wishing Jessalyne walked beside him. He very much wanted to feel
her hand in his, to inhale her perfume and hear her voice. Away for
such a short period of time and already he longed to return to
her.

Brynden ended his flirtation with a
young scullery maid as Ertemis approached. Dragon snuffled, nudging
Brynden with his nose. Brynden bowed awkwardly. “Your highness,
Dragon is ready.”

“Brynden, the bowing and such…”
Ertemis shook his head. The boy was so eager to please. “Less is
more. Now, saddle Lady Jessalyne’s donkey for yourself.”

“Aye, your high—er, master
elf.”

Ertemis rubbed Dragon’s nose while
he waited for Brynden to finish. He stared at the polished walls of
Castle Ryght. Not only did he now have a place to call home, but he
also had a woman to come home to.

* * *

Jessalyne picked up the book she’d
found and settled onto a padded bench near the window, eager to
determine if it held the spell she needed. There was no
organization to the information it held. The first spell was for
turning mice into locust, something Jessalyne couldn’t imagine a
use for. The next spell was for intensifying a thunderstorm. She
clapped the book shut when the third involved a mix of swan’s blood
and children’s tears.

“What kind of book is this?” She
starred at the cover again, trying to decipher the
runes.

“It’s a grimoire.” Fynna walked back
into the room, her face and voice bereft of emotion.

“What is it?”

“A book of the dark arts. Not
something to be taken lightly.” She slumped onto a bench at the
worktable.

“Fynna, are you okay?”

“No. But I will be.”

Jessalyne hoped so. She’d never seen
Fynna so brokenhearted. “I guess I need to finish reading this
wretched book.”

“I saw Ertemis and Brynden preparing
to leave out in the courtyard.”

Happy to change the subject,
Jessalyne smiled. “I thought Ertemis a message. I wonder if his
mindsight heard me.”

“I think Salena was trying to send
him a message, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was talking to him. Flirting.
She put her hand on his arm but judging by his reaction, she won’t
do that again soon.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the
back of Jessalyne’s neck as her temperature rose. “She’d best not
or I’ll deal with her.”

Fynna fanned herself with her hand.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re toasting me! Calm down.
Ertemis is capable of taking care of himself.” She picked up a
broom and began to sweep.

“I know. You’re right.” She sighed
and opened the book again. “There’s too much to do to worry about
Salena.”

* * *

“For the fifth time, you will not
even glimpse Elysium.” Ertemis shook his head at Brynden’s
questions.