The Fire Lord's Lover - 1 (4 page)

   She felt a flush creep from belly to nose and knew her face had turned a deep red. And knew her opportunity to act had passed. The choir ended with a crescendo of glorious song, and without further ado the archbishop began the ceremony.

   Perhaps it was just as well. Thomas had cautioned her for patience and she'd almost rushed forward. And as she stood through the painfully long ceremony and went through the motions required of her, she chided herself.

   Imperial Lord Mor'ded's body nearly vibrated with tension, his eyes watching the assembled guests without appearing to. His white fire magic still swirled among the guests, and she suddenly wondered if it had all been for show. Could he search for hidden dangers with it? Could he sense an attack, whether magical or physical, with his power?

   Cass couldn't be sure. The information that the Rebellion had on the elven lords was sketchy. Thomas had done the best he could, but she suddenly realized she'd been ill prepared for her task. She could feel the power of Mor'ded's magic, and the tiny bit she possessed seemed negligible by comparison. Perhaps the wiser course would be to discover all she could about the elven lords and their magic before she acted at all.

   Cass now stood facing her… new husband. She supposed she'd have to get used to that idea. Although she didn't think she could ever get used to the coldness of his beautiful eyes. She'd hoped she could use the general to gather information about the elven, but right now he did not look like a man who could be used. Indeed, when his eyes met hers for a moment, a shiver of dread went through her.

   The few times she'd visited him, he had treated her with a disinterest bordering on contempt. She'd foolishly thought that when she became his wife that might change, but it appeared the ceremony affected him not at all. Faith, how would she manage to share his bed tonight? Best not to think of that.

   She blanched as her new husband slid a ring on her finger. A band of gold with a rose carved atop it. But the rose looked so real, the edges of the petals as delicate as the true flower. Cass couldn't resist the impulse to bring it closer to her face, then nearly jumped when the petals curled closed, changing the carving to a tight bud.

   He'd given her a ring crafted with elven magic.

   Her eyes flew up to his in alarm.

   General Raikes lowered his head. "It won't harm you," he muttered, a note of exasperation in his velvety voice. And then he lowered his head and kissed her, signaling an end to the ceremony.

   Cass's heart flipped over. She stood quite frozen, unsure of what had come over her. The general had done nothing more than press his lips to hers. And her entire body had shivered. From that one dispassionate touch.

   As the onlookers broke into polite applause, Mor'ded leaned close to his son and said, "Surely the champion can do better than that."

   She watched her husband glance at his father. Saw his face harden with challenge. Then the general wrapped his arms around her and roughly pulled her against his chest, and Cass could only pray.

   Her new husband kissed her again. But this time he kissed her like Thomas had, bending her backward in his arms, moving his mouth over hers as if he sought to eat her alive. But the experience was totally unlike the one she'd shared with Thomas.

   The world seemed to fall away. Cass became aware of nothing and no one but the man holding her in his arms. The heat of his mouth, the fire that ran through her body, the sheer exhilaration of the taste of him. Her senses heightened. She felt her breasts tighten and strain toward him. Felt a wetness between her legs that frightened and excited her all at the same time. His tongue pressed against her lips, and lacking any experience of what to do, she opened her mouth and he invaded it, stroking and tasting until she just forgot to breathe.

   Her new husband abruptly let her go and set her away from him. Cass swayed. The applause in the room had risen in volume, and she blushed again to realize she'd behaved in such a manner in front of an archbishop, half the country, and in the house of the Lord, no less. She couldn't account for what had come over her.

   General Raikes gave his father a heated look. "Will that do?"

   Mor'ded chuckled.

   When Dominic took her hand and led her back down the nave, Cass could do nothing but weakly follow. But she noticed the rose in her ring had come unfurled, spreading out into a glorious open blossom.

Three

Cass sat at her wedding breakfast within the great hall of Firehame Palace, still slightly dazed. Her new husband hadn't spoken a word to her in the short carriage ride back to the palace. Indeed, he had appeared to be furious with her… but surely she must have been mistaken, for the general would have to possess feelings for her to arouse them so.

   When they'd arrived at the palace, he'd turned back into the man with whom she'd become familiar. Cold, disinterested, and aloof. He sat across from her at table, next to a beautiful woman with hair pale enough to require only the lightest touches of powder. He completely ignored his new wife in favor of the blue-eyed creature.

   Mor'ded sat at the head of the table and leaned to his right to speak to Cassandra. "That's my son's mistress, Lady Agnes."

   Cass dropped her spoon and it clanged atop the china. The rose on her wedding ring twisted into a tight bud. General Raikes finally turned to look at her. How dare he bring his mistress to their wedding breakfast? Is this how the court behaved? Well, she didn't give a fig what the others considered acceptable. She glared at her husband and his beautiful companion.

   Again, a twitch of the lip. So she continued to amuse him, did she?

   The elven lord laughed. "Don't worry, my dear. You will have your husband's full attention until he gets you with child. He knows what's expected of him… as should you."

   She heard the threat and squashed down her anger. She reminded herself that her marriage to the champion was nothing but a falsehood, a way to get close to the elven lord. She must appear to be as cold and unconcerned as he. Cassandra kept her voice steady. "I look forward to giving you a grandson, my lord."

   Mor'ded scowled, the expression not diminishing his beauty one whit, and leaned back in his chair. "The devil to that. I want a new champion."

   If Cass had any doubts as to her new role, the elven lord had just made it clear. If she didn't already have the task of killing her new father-in-law, she'd surely wish to do so now.

   Mor'ded tapped the triangular-shaped head of his magical scepter against his cheek, watching her with narrowed eyes. She didn't know what expression might be on her face and quickly bowed her head. She watched the room through her lashes, practicing the skill she'd nearly perfected over the years. Despite her position at the head table, she almost succeeded in making herself unnoticeable.

   But she felt the Imperial Lord's gaze fall on her time and again throughout the meal.

   "Lord Blevin," said Mor'ded, "I grow bored. I daresay I can count on you to liven up the meal."

   The lord in question sported a wig with such a long fall of silver-white hair that he'd curled it in his lap. In an attempt to imitate the flawless pale complexion of the elven, he'd covered his face with too much powder, and it cracked as he beamed at being singled out. "Indeed, Imperial Lord, I have just perfected a new spell."

   Titters flowed up and down the crystal-laden table.

   Lord Blevin puffed up his chest beneath his bright yellow waistcoat. "Although some may laugh at my lack of fire magic, I assure you my smoke can be just as powerful."

   Mor'ded nodded, but Cass detected a slight stiffening in his posture. Surely the elven lord couldn't be concerned about the magical powers of his courtiers? Not when he held trials thrice a year to test the children born with the elven gifts.

   Lord Blevin had scrunched up his face and now held out his hands before him. Smoke did indeed form between his palms, and his hands shook while he shaped it into the figure of a tiny person. He then added wings, and Cass thought he meant to create a smoke angel, but she should have known better. The wings took the shape of a bat and white smoke formed pointy, long teeth hanging from the mouth. The small bat-person hissed and flew at Lady Agnes, who shrieked a laugh and begged the general to protect her. The man looked quite unmoved by her plight.

   Lord Blevin created another much more quickly than he had formed the first, and the ones that followed with even more speed. Soon the entire table lay covered in the beings of smoke, their wings flapping in the faces of ladies and their teeth snapping at the gentlemen who tried to defend them.

   One of the nasty beasts lunged at Cassandra, and she waved her hand through it. The smoke parted and then resumed its previous shape. She sighed and then ducked her head, determined to ignore the nuisance but the creature hugged her face, making her cough. She waved her hand again, her eyes burning and causing tears to run down her face.

   Several ladies had started to scream right along with Lady Agnes, and the sound of chairs being pushed back hurriedly from the table added to the cacophony.

   Imperial Lord Mor'ded laughed. "Well done, Blevin."

   "Ho, ho, it's just smoke," declared another gentleman. "Watch what I can do." And he pointed at one of the smoke creatures; a loud pop of displaced air sounded, and the thing exploded into tiny bits of gray wisps.

   "Devil a bit," said a portly courtier. "I can top that, man!" And with a flourish of his arms, the wine in every glass and decanter poured
up,
burgundy waves of color, dousing several smoke creatures and more than one lady. The screams escalated.

   Lady Cassandra glanced at her father, who had sat on her other side as still as a stone throughout the entire meal. His hazel eyes had widened in stunned disbelief at the chaos around him.

   "This is my wedding breakfast," she said to him.

   He turned and gave her a look of apology, glanced at the elven lord, and patted her hand. "Best get used to the whims of the court, girl."

   Sudden rage drove Cass to her feet. Mor'ded had collapsed into whoops of laughter. General Raikes watched the antics of the nobles with disdainful interest, like a man studying a group of monkeys at play. She slapped her hands on the table, rattling the china, finally gaining the notice of her husband. "This is my wedding breakfast," she repeated, but this time with such force that the courtiers froze, turning to stare at her as if she'd just sprouted horns.

   Mor'ded stilled. The guests breathed in a collective breath.

   "You've got spunk," said the Imperial Lord into the silence. "I'll give you that. But I find spunk amusing only in small doses, girl."

   She felt his power throb like the beat of a heart. It made her knees weak, and she collapsed back into her chair. Slowly the other nobles regained their seats, wiped faces streaming with port, and dabbed handkerchiefs at spotted silk.

   Dominic Raikes continued to stare coldly at her, as if she'd turned into one of the monkeys. Cass gave him a look of entreaty.

   Mor'ded snorted. "Don't expect support from that direction. If anything, my son's heart is colder than my own."

   He said it with pride. Her husband's chin lifted with pride. Cass prayed for guidance.

   Mor'ded turned his attention to Cassandra's father. "You there, Chandos. Elven blood runs in your veins. Since your daughter has deprived me of entertainment, perhaps you can show us your own power."

   Father tried not to squirm. Tried not to look around at the other nobles. "You forget I have no power other than the gift of my charm, Your Most High."

   Humphs of disgust from the gentlemen. Titters of scorn from the ladies.

   "Yet I'm sure I remember that your daughter has the gift of dance." Those glittering black eyes narrowed. "She'd best have enough of the blood to breed true." His gaze pierced Cass yet again. "So girl, it looks like it's up to you to entertain me." He rose, a flutter of velvet and lace and deadly magic. He clasped her shoulder and nearly dragged her from her chair, through the hall into the great ballroom. Cass shied away from his scepter, afraid it would accidentally brush against her skin. Rumor had it that no one could touch it but a true elven lord, and she wouldn't relish finding out the truth of it.

   Lady Cassandra could hear the excited whispers of the court as they followed.

   Startled slaves quickly dropped their tasks and vanished behind stately columns and cleverly hidden doors. The long tables at the end of the ballroom appeared half-full. Weak light filtered in from double doors and the candles hadn't been lit yet, so the room lay shrouded in gloom. Mor'ded uttered a word and the ceiling lit with a blazing light, causing several of the musicians to break their strings while in the middle of their rehearsal.

   Mor'ded hauled her into the middle of the floor. "Play," he commanded them.

   They quickly organized themselves and struck up a tune while the lords and ladies spread around the room, vying for the best view.

   Cass swallowed. She'd made a complete muck of things and now he sought to punish her. Instead of impressing the elven lord with her innocence and demure nature, she'd incited his anger… something she guessed few rarely did. But perhaps. Perhaps she could turn this to her advantage. She could get close enough to the lord for a killing blow once her strength was enhanced by the music.

   "Will you partner me then, dearest father-in-law?"

   He looked down his nose at her with disdain. "Dominic," he called. And he thrust Cass into the arms of her new husband, then strode across the polished floor to settle himself on his golden throne.

   The music rose in volume and she felt it creep into her bones. Without further ado, General Raikes swept her into a dance, one that swirled her silk skirts across the floor, made the silver in her dress sparkle like the sun's reflection on water.

   Despite her annoyance at herself for inciting the elven lord's wrath, she couldn't regret that her husband finally held her in his arms. He had strong, warm arms.

   "I shall endeavor to behave better in the future," she said to him.

   He didn't blink. Didn't shrug. Just danced her around the room like an angel of grace. His elven blood made his movements smooth and lithe, but she could tell he did not embrace the music. Did not become one with the magic of it, as she could.

   She feared he had no feelings—but if he did, he surely regretted the choice of bride that had been thrust upon him. She had asked God to allow her to make him happy, but since he seemed to lack that emotion, she must seek to impress her husband, at the least. She must bridge this gap between them in some way.

   So Cass let the music swell through her. Her feet caught the rhythm and moved of their own accord. Her body swayed with the beat of the drums; her arms fluttered with the soulful sound of the strings. She felt Dominic's intake of breath, and the dance between them subtly shifted. He still led—she doubted if it could have been otherwise—but his body molded to hers, and soon they did more than the practiced steps of the minuet. Motions that came from the music itself shaped their dance until what they performed no longer resembled any of the movements defined by man.

   Cass had danced only with Thomas and her father. Neither of them possessed the elven grace the way her new husband did. She felt almost as if he became one with her, and she danced as she'd never done before, twirling around him to be caught again in his grasp, sliding across the floor by turns of their heels. He seemed to sense her next move and stayed with her, so she didn't fear that when she leaned back in an arch, he would not be there to catch her. That when she trailed her arm down his own and twirled at the tips of his fingers, he would not be ready to pull her back into his arms. She knew not what to call this dance they devised, but she felt sure it would shock the court.

   She noticed her rose ring had blossomed again. Elven magic, indeed. Did it predict so accurately her mood, then?

   When the music finally ended and they swayed to a stop, not a sound could be heard within the vast room. Her husband looked at her then. Truly looked at her as if for the first time. But she could tell nothing of his thoughts from the cold glitter of his black eyes.

   "That's a very old elven dance," said Mor'ded. Cass turned and saw the flicker of a smile on the Imperial Lord's face. "I never thought to see it performed as if I watched my own people at a fete in Elfhame. You do indeed
dance
, Lady Cassandra."

   She suspected that would be the highest praise she would receive and bowed, turned to see if she'd also managed to please her new husband, and realized she stood alone.

   Indeed, she stayed alone throughout the entire day, except for the company of her father, who kept a silent vigil by her side. Once, he managed to whisper to her, "Perhaps I have made a mistake in giving you over to this man." But Cassandra quickly shushed him, assuring him all would be well. That her husband's heart would eventually warm to her, and he would seek her company.

   Lady Agnes pranced by at that moment in Dominic's arms, her laughter denouncing Cass a liar. Lady Cassandra didn't need to look at her ring to know it had tightened into a small bud again.

   She plucked a glass off a footman's tray and downed the contents. It burned; she coughed but immediately felt better. She knew her marriage was nothing but a charade, that her new husband didn't have a heart. But she'd had enough humiliation for one day. And if she continued to attend a ball where her husband flaunted his mistress in her face, she would hate him. And that would not serve the Rebellion's cause one whit.

   So she kissed her father and quietly left the ball, hesitating outside the grand room. She had no idea which direction to take. Up, most likely, and then perhaps she could ask a chambermaid for the directions to the general's rooms.

   From the corner of her eye she caught a furtive movement, quite like her own stealthy habit of slipping around door frames. Without thinking she reached out, snagging the shoulder of the boy's shirt. He struggled for a moment, gave a sigh of defeat, and looked up at her with the largest hazel eyes Cass had ever seen. Faceted, elven eyes.

   "Don't be frightened," said Cass. "I just need some directions."

   The lad looked at her face, then down to a meat pie he held—which he'd obviously stolen from the banquet table—and quickly stuffed it into a ragged tear in his shirt. Cass ignored the pilfered item. A child needed to eat.