Cursed by Fire (22 page)

Nervousness clenched around her heart. They had kissed like this before, but they had not been closed away in a room … she had not been lying beneath him in a bed. He could do anything he wanted to. Anything at all, and there would be nothing she could do to gainsay him. He had it over her in sheer size and in more than obvious strength, not to mention that he, who had been penniless in the mud a mere day ago, had far and away more power over his fate than she did. And that was saying something, seeing as how he was cursed by the gods.

She wanted to worry about that. Wanted to tell herself she should be afraid to throw her lot in with someone who had the gods’ swords at his throat. Life was difficult enough for her as the powerless female heir to
a country … Would she really wish to incite the wrath of the gods as well?

Yes.

It was better to give herself to this man, like this, in the face of all those gods, than the alternative. At least this way it made it her choice. In this she would wholeheartedly defy that tyrant who held her in such a viselike grip.

That didn’t change the fact, however, that she didn’t really know what to do next. She found herself cursing the chastity she had previously been so proud of. She knew other women of the court gave their favors freely, to one man and the next, but she had kept herself above that … above even the most pious mem. Selinda had remained perfectly chaste. She, the first lady of the court, had set a perfect example. A reputation she had used as a shield from the advances of others … including Grannish. Before he had shown his true colors he had tried to coax her into kissing him or letting him hug and pet her, but she had kindly rebuffed him, using her honor as her guard and chaperone.

Now she feared there was nothing she could do if he decided one day to come after her in earnest. Luckily he thought her so repulsive that the idea apparently wasn’t crossing his mind.

Thanks be to Hella.

Selinda drew in a soft breath right before Dethan’s tongue slipped inside her mouth. The sensation, the invasion, was still so strange that she pushed away from him, breaking their mouths apart. His response was to give her a reproaching expression, then he gently wrapped his hand around her head, his big palms engulfing her and making her feel so small as he pulled her mouth back against his and reintroduced the feel of his warm tongue in her mouth. It was a gentle invasion. A dip, just far enough to touch their tongues together,
then he pulled his tongue back so only their lips clung together. He did it again. And again. Until she was moaning softly from the steady growth in the heat of the kiss. She could feel it, the energy of his leashed desires, just a little below the surface. It was like a beast in a powerful cage. But he was the strongest cage there was and he would not let the beast get to her, she thought.

Not yet.

She jerked away from him with a gasp.

“Please!” she cried, the word jolting out of her purely on instinct. He seemed to know that was the case, for he smiled at her, the expression lightening the darkness of his features. She liked it when he smiled. She had come to understand that he had so much weight on his shoulders, so many things trying to press him down. She liked the idea that when she made him smile it was almost like pushing that darkness aside. Lifting the weight off him.

“Please? Go on. Tell me what you please. Tell me what pleases you, little juquil.”

“I … I wish … I-if it is all right … I should like this to stop. F-for now.”

She was testing him, Dethan realized. She was testing him to see if he would grant her request or if he would grow angry with her for thwarting his attempts to be passionate with her.

“Do you wish to stop?” he asked her, turning it back on her. “Or are you afraid to continue? There is a difference between the two.”

“I-I do not understand,” she said, clearly casting about for what would both fulfill her wishes and keep him from becoming incensed. She was so used to volatility that it did not occur to her that it should be absent. “Do not be angry with me. I am just not used to such familiarity.”

“I am not angry,” he assured her in a low, steady tone.
“Nor will I ever be with you. I am not a man prone to temper. No, wait. That is untrue. I can have a great deal of anger within me. But as long as you are honest with me and keep faith with me, I will never direct that anger toward you. Do you understand?”

“Keep faith?” she asked shakily.

“I understand what it must take for you to trust me or anyone right now, but I will prove myself to you. Once I do, I expect your true loyalty to me. Unquestioning. Putting no other desires before those that you know would best represent and please me. That does not mean I do not want you to have your own voice, for you are of no use to me without a voice and thoughts of your own. I can get a womb anywhere; what I need is a mother and wife and political ruler. That is why I have chosen you. Just as you have chosen me to be a warlord, a husband, a provider, and a protector. If we keep faith with each other, we can become an unstoppable force together. I will be able to leave you in charge of the city while I conquer other lands in Weysa’s name. I must know that you can be trusted to fill that role.”

After a long moment of staring up into his eyes, a long enough moment to make him question whether or not she had heard him, she looked away, shook her head gently, and laughed.

“There must be something wrong with you,” she insisted before looking back into his eyes. “My fortunes are not this good as a rule. There must be something wrong with you.”

He chuckled at her. “There are a great many things wrong with me. Do you forget I am cursed?”

Her frown was instantaneous. “Is there no way to cure you from this curse?”

“None,” he assured her. “My only goal is to fulfill Weysa’s demands of me.”

“Perhaps if you perform well she will forgive you your crimes entirely and set you free.”

“I would not presume such a thing. It serves no purpose to exercise false hopes, so please, I wish you to stop thinking on it. All I need from you is to come be by my side each night and help ease me.”

She lowered her lashes at that remark, color spotting her cheeks. “I will do whatever I can. Whatever you ask.”

“Little juquil, you are not a slave to me,” he said sternly, lifting her chin up with his hand and making her look into his eyes. “Do you understand? I have seen the fire in you. The defiance you show. I want to cultivate that fire, build it until it burns so brightly others will have to look away from its powerful beauty. Do you understand?”

“Are you certain that’s what you want?” she asked cautiously. “Most men prefer their wives cowed and dutiful.”

“Dutiful, yes. Cowed, no. Feel free to test me. In time, you will understand. Now it grows light. You need to get back to your bed lest you are caught.”

Dethan rose from the bed and she flushed furiously, looking away from him as he stood gloriously nude and held out a hand to her.

She scooted out of the bed, lurching to her feet. She hastily slid on her corset, adjusting herself and trying to reach her own laces. She jumped a little when she felt his hands settle over hers and then push them away. He took the ties into his hands and slowly, learning how to do it with a few queries, he laced her into her corset just as well as Hanit would have done, if taking a little longer in the doing of it. His hands kept drifting along the length of her torso. Caresses she did not feel through the stiffness of the corset yet was still very aware of.

Next, she stepped into her dress and pulled it over her
arms. He helped her lace this together as well where it was needed. Then he reached for her cloak as she stepped into her slippers. He cloaked her and then turned her to face him. There she was, fully dressed in contrast to his utter nudity, and she still felt as though she were nude with him. She felt far more exposed than he was as he tipped up her chin and gave her one more gentle kiss on the lips before sending her out into the hallway.

Grannish was studying his adversary hard.

He sat in one of the empty household chambers that looked over the fortress bailey. In the bailey were the usual comings and goings, but there was something very distinctly different today. There was a line of men leading away from two tables that had been set up. A very long line. Apparently this Dethan had posted notices and paid for criers to announce that Hexis was forming an army, that troops would have bread and a bed within the week. All they need do was volunteer.

Grannish had thought perhaps fifty men would respond to something like that. It was not glamorous, did not promise glory and personal fulfillment. Just a bed and bread and a little joining silver. And yet there it was, a long line of men leading out of the bailey, down into the streets, and as far as the old High Post. Perhaps beyond that. Where Grannish was he did not have the proper perspective to see. But there were well over two hundred men waiting and fifty others had already been given their joining silver and the papers they would need to gain a bed in the barracks, once the barracks were done being built.

Grannish smiled. He wondered just where and how these magical barracks would be built. Grannish had instructed the master of the king’s purse to be very stingy when it came to the army’s needs. He was going to make this as difficult to pull off as he possibly could. After all, it would not do if Dethan were somehow able to actually succeed at this attempt to free them from the Redoe’s siege.

No, it would not do at all. Grannish refused to be upstaged by some upstart peasant who was promising solutions to problems that had none. Grannish had tried raising an army himself before, and the results had been lackluster. He had been reduced to forcing men to become soldiers, forcing them to fight, the lazy bastards. But the army, such as it was, had fallen apart and their attempt to cure the Redoe plague had failed.

Well, it would fail again, Grannish thought. He would see to it. Volunteers or no volunteers, Dethan would be forced to call up a draft eventually. It was the only way to get the numbers that would be needed to set the Redoe down. Then they would see what a waste of time it was.

There were two clerks at the two tables taking down names and giving out papers. Behind the clerks stood Dethan, his arms folded over his chest, his calculating, dark eyes taking in the goings-on with an almost evil air. Often he would step forward and say something to the new soldier.

Soldiers were all well and good, but it took a chain of command to run an army, which meant lords of high houses. And Grannish would see to it that not one lord of any of the high houses stepped forward to offer command. If they did, they knew Grannish would make them pay for it. One way or another, they would pay. He would bide his time so it did not look so obvious, but eventually he would poison the grand against that
particular lord until he was no longer a lord, his lands and titles stripped from him at the command of the grand. Grannish was a very, very patient man with an excellent record as far as these things were concerned. His reputation would ensure compliance. All the lords knew not to cross him.

He had already begun to make it clear to them that they were in no way to help Dethan’s cause. The trick was how to do it while seeming to be supportive of it when in front of the grand. He could puppet the grand only so far. The grand was still under the illusion that he was in control of his own city. There were times like this, like with Dethan, when the grand went completely off in his own direction without seeking any guidance from Grannish.

But that was okay, Grannish thought serenely. It had become a little boring of late, to be honest. Manipulating that regal idiot and his whiny little daughter was sometimes so easy he could cry with the boredom of it.

At that moment the little bitch herself walked out into the courtyard. Everything ground to an instant halt and everyone bowed to her respectfully.

Everyone save Dethan. Dethan merely watched her, those dark eyes looking at her with … with what? Grannish wasn’t certain. He needed to figure out how to get into the man’s head. Needed someone to pay very close attention to him.

“Your lordship,
Page
Tonkin,” his page announced, the disdain he felt at being forced to call Tonkin “page” all too clear.

Tonkin was as big and oafish as could possibly be imagined. He actually had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the top of the doorframe. Where in the hells had Dethan found this fellow? Grannish thought he was familiar somehow, but he could not place him.

“Ah, Page Tonkin. Good of you to join me,” Grannish
said, turning his back on the window and his all-seeing view of the courtyard.

“As your lordship likes,” Tonkin said deferentially. The page’s cap was in his hands and he was mauling the fabric in great pawing twists. He was nervous. Good.

“Sit down, my good man,” Grannish invited, indicating a nearby chair.

“If it’s all the same, I’ll stand. My lord Dethan will be wanting after me soon.”

“
Sor
Dethan is no lord,” Grannish bit out.