The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (16 page)

“You have kept the Prince waiting long enough,
” she said. “He is anxious to meet you.”

Emmeline
was anxious as well, but for reasons she guessed were different than the Prince’s. She settled on the stool while Adelia twisted her hair into a web of curls and stringed pearls. For once, Emmeline didn’t protest the extravagance. The longer Adelia took to do her hair, the better.

Once
she was satisfied that Emmeline was properly groomed, Adelia led her to the opposite end of the palace and stopped in front of a set of dark doors. She knocked twice and announced their presence.

“Her highness, Princess Emmeline
, requests the audience of his royal Highness, Prince Weldon.”

“Let her in,”
a low, soothing voice replied from inside.

The doors
opened to a room befitting royalty. It was masculine, with dark colors and rich oak. Fur rugs covered the floors and medieval weaponry adorned the walls. A massive stone fireplace with a roaring fire added warmth to the room. Too much warmth. Prince Weldon stood with one hand on the mantel, looking down into the dancing flames.

Adelia stiffened,
but Emmeline was too entranced by the fire to find out why. The heat emanating from the flames intoxicated her. She remembered feeling the same pull to another flame, but couldn’t remember where or why. She only knew that she had to get closer.

Prince Weldon’s chin jerked up
. His dark eyes met hers before flashing to the fire and back. “Forgive me, Emmeline. Does this bother you?”

Emmeline shook her head.
Why would it bother her? It seemed like an eternity since such glorious heat coursed through her body. The palace was always so cold and damp.

Adelia
shuffled closer to Emmeline and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You may be excused, Adelia.” Prince Weldon said
in almost a growl.

Adelia dropped her hand
and excused herself. The door clicked shut and Prince Weldon cleared his throat.

Ripping her eyes from th
e fire, Emmeline turned toward him. It occurred to her in that moment that the ban against fires had not been to honor the absent Crown Prince, but to harness her power. She scowled, disappointed in her herself for not realizing it before. Prince Weldon knew she was an Incenaga and yet his fire burned on.

He searched her eyes for a long moment before turning his gaze back to the fire. “I had no idea they shined so brightly.”

Emmeline looked away. “Forgive me; I should have come sooner. I just barely learned of your request to see me.”

Prince Weldon
smirked, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “You’re harp playing stopped hours ago.”

“You were listening?” Emmeline asked, heat rushing to her face.

“Of course.”

He gestured toward
four plush chairs. Emmeline chose the chair closest to the fire and the Prince relaxed into the one beside it. He flashed her a toothy grin, his eyes taking on a playfulness Emmeline didn’t quite understand. She couldn’t believe the sudden transformation in his demeanor. He almost didn’t seem like the same man from the night before, or even from moments before.

“Pardon me, Prince Weldon, b
ut was that you in my chambers yesterday evening?”

He shifted in his seat. “
Yes. I hope you’ll forgive my rude behavior. I had just ridden in from a hard journey and was not quite myself.”

Emmeline
nodded and pulled in a small amount of heat. Just in case, she told herself. The flames seemed to beg her to gather more so she obeyed and let her chest fill. But that didn’t seem to be enough. She squirmed against the growing discomfort of the fire’s pull. Her face flushed with heat as her body instinctively took on more warmth from the fire. Sweat formed on her brow and the palms of her hands. Pressure was already forming in her chest.

“May I offer you a drink,” Prince Weldon asked.

“Water please,” Emmeline croaked, her throat suddenly parched.

Rather than summon a servant, Prince Weldon
strode to a nearby water pitcher and poured a glass of water. Striding back to her, he held it out for her to take.

Desperate to cool her tempered body,
and without thinking, Emmeline thrust her hand out toward the glass. A flash of heat pulsed from her hand and the glass shattered before she reached it.

“Oh!”
Emmeline exclaimed as she jumped out of her chair.

Prince Weldon chuckled
. “There was no need to break the glass, My Lady. I apologized for my rude behavior, but I see I have yet to make amends.”

Emmeline jerked her chin back in surprise. “I didn’t
intend to break it.”

“I’m not
upset. After my conduct last night, I deserved it.”

“I’m telling you,
it was an accident!” Emmeline clenched her fists. She knew she was over-reacting; it was just a glass and the palace had thousands of them. But Prince Weldon barely knew her and was already accusing her of using her power for revenge. It didn’t sit well with her.

She glared
into his face and Prince Weldon’s eyes grew wide, his body held away from her.

“I apologize,
My Lady,” Prince Weldon said, his voice a whisper.

Emmeline slumped into the chair.
“My apologies as well.”

Prince Weldon
continued speaking in apologetic tones, but Emmeline glanced at the fire and her mind left the conversation. The fire was like a siren, requiring her complete attention. She sauntered to the fireplace, the warmth feeding her and filling her with power. The flames danced in the hearth, beckoning her closer.

“Emmeline, that’
s close enough,” Prince Weldon said as if he were soothing a scared child.

Emmeline ignored him and stepped a little closer
. Tossing her handkerchief in the flames, she watched it shrink and turn to ash. The fire held so much power. And it was all hers. Turning from the flame, Emmeline raised her hand and pushed a small amount of heat toward a vase. It slid across the table and onto the ground. Trancelike, the corners of Emmeline’s mouth lifted into a sly grin. Without thinking, she thrust her hand up and watched in satisfaction as a chair shot across the room and into the far wall. With another wave of heat from her hands, she knocked over a nearby table, the dishes crashing to the ground. She opened her mouth and a cackle escaped from deep within her throat.

A loud hiss filled the air.
Emmeline whipped around to find Prince Weldon in front of the fire, an empty wash bowl in his hand and a strange look on his face. The logs sizzled as steam rose into the chimney.

“Are you done,
My Lady?”

Emmeline
looked at the fire longingly, the warmth evaporating from her body. If she thrust her hands out now nothing would happen. She sighed. Never before had she felt so good and so foolish at the same time. The warmth ebbed from her body and her senses returned. Had she really just cackled?

Emmeline brushed a few stray strands from her face
and tucked them behind her ear. “Forgive me, Prince Weldon. I don’t know what came over me.”

“
Well, that is understandable, I suppose.” He straightened his coat.

She really didn’t know what c
ame over her. One minute she was in control of herself and the next she was destroying Prince Weldon’s study. It was as if the fire controlled her, not she controlling it, and she wondered why. Her own little fire had done nothing to put her under such a spell. She furled her brow and concluded that she would have to experiment with a bigger fire.

Prince Weldon
examined the mess and chuckled. “There is no sense in staying here. Have you been given a tour of the palace?”

“Not a proper one
. I have wandered a little.”

“Would you
like to take a stroll with me?

“
I’m not sure if I should.”

“The halls are empty. I made certain of it.”

“Oh. Okay.” She glanced around the room. “I’m sorry about your study.”

“No harm done. At least,
not very much,” he added with a grin.

He led her down the hall
and peppered her with interesting facts. The painted ceilings, carved furniture, and elaborate vases all had a story to tell. In her many hours of wandering, the great rooms had blurred together, but with Prince Weldon’s lifetime of familiarity, the palace became full of unique wonders.

Prince Weldon stopped at
the top of a staircase spanning four floors. With two large landings providing access to the second and third floors, each marble step gleamed with brilliance. A dark banister swept to the bottom, finishing its decent with an elegant scroll that stretched the bottom few steps out like a fan.

“The palace has twenty four sets of stairs,”
Prince Weldon said, “this being the Grand Staircase because it is the largest and most formal.”

He took her arm and
led her down the stairs to the entrance hall. The reflections of eight large chandeliers graced the polished floor, illuminating the marble in a dazzling display of light. Each chandelier sparkled with thousands of long crystals dangling like shimmering icicles.

“
When the palace was built,” Prince Weldon said looking up, “the first King of Dolmerti, King Heywood, wanted every detail to be perfect for his bride. Construction extended into the winter months and hundreds of icicles formed throughout the palace before it could be completed. To show her appreciation for his efforts, Queen Saba designed these chandeliers as a reminder that beauty would always be a part of their lives as long as they gave each other their very best.”

“What a beautiful st
ory,” Emmeline said. “They must have loved each other very much.”

“Yes, so I ha
ve heard. It isn’t common among royal marriages, given that most are political matches. My own parents also shared a rare love. It’s a legacy my brother and I wish to continue in our own lives.”

Prince Weldon looked away from the chandeliers and gazed into Emmeline’s face.
Uncomfortable by his penetrating gaze, she looked away.

“I hope I can give you
r brother that same happiness,” she said.

“Yes
,” he said straightening. “We’ll see about that.”

With that,
Prince Weldon stalked out of the entrance hall and left Emmeline alone.

Prince Weldon returned to the entrance hall moments later, a warm smile on his face. He stopped underneath the lintel of the adjoining room and gestured for her to join him.

“Prince Weldon,” she
started as soon as she reached him, “do you not think I’ll be able to make your brother happy?”

“On the
contrary. I think any man able to call you his own would be happy. Please forget I said anything.”

He led her to
the gallery where paintings of the royal family covered every inch of the walls. Some were small—no larger than a book—while others spanned expansive spaces. Imagining the lives they lived and enjoyed, Emmeline strolled among the portraits. They all looked so grand and handsome. She stopped short at the strangest portrait of them all. The artist had painted the back of the man’s head and shoulders as if it were his formal portrait.

“Who is this man?” Emmeline asked.

Prince Weldon chuckled in remembrance. “That is my late Uncle Bufort.”

“Why is he turned around?”

“Uncle Bufort had a different way of living life. He always did the exact opposite of what people expected of him. I guess this portrait was his way of continuing that philosophy. He once showed up to his own birthday celebration disguised as the court jester. He spent the entire evening entertaining his own guests without them ever being aware it was him.”

Emmeline
’s laughter filled the room. She would have liked to have met Uncle Bufort.

“If I may be so bold,”
Prince Weldon said, “you are breathtaking, Emmeline. More so when you laugh.”

Emmeline
’s laughter caught in her throat. “Excuse me?” Surely she had misheard him, or he had spoken in jest. But there was no laughter in his eyes. He drew near to her, and placing a hand on her cheek, leaned in as if to kiss her.

“And
if I may be so bold,” Emmeline said as she took a step back, “may I call you brother?”

Prince Weldon flinched.
He straightened and composed himself. Moving on, he gestured to the largest painting in the gallery,

“This is Queen Saba
,” he said directing her attention upward.

Emmeline pointed her gaze toward the painting, but her mind was elsewhere. Had
Prince Weldon almost kissed her? She must have been mistaken. He would be her brother soon! She shook off the strangeness of their encounter.