Eleven
Dominic watched her delicate features subtly shift as she considered the meaning of his words. He'd expected to see fear, but his bride surprised him as usual.
"I won't need your protection. Now that I have your trust, we can defeat him together."
For a moment he could only stare at her in stunned amazement. Then he threw back his head and laughed, his voice a wild accompaniment to the song produced by the flowers of Elfhame.
She pulled a bit away from him, and her lips twisted into a disgruntled frown. "I do not jest."
Dominic wiped his sleeve across his eyes. "Oh, my girl, that's what I'm afraid of. You have no idea of the power my father possesses."
She rose with the grace of a dancer and he sobered, watching her pace the confines of the pavilion. Now that he'd revealed his secrets to her, perhaps she would feel free to do the same. "What makes you think you can take on an elven lord, Cassandra? Do you truly think a few elven death dances can kill him?"
She froze, slowly turned her head to stare down at him where he still sat. Her tussle with the guardian vines had mussed her hair, strands of silky brown curling about her cheeks and forehead. Her stomacher fell sideways, half the cording stripped from its holes. Her abandoned hoops made her hem drag where it had escaped the girdle meant to hold it up. The sleeve of her gown had been torn half off, dirt streaked her bodice and skirt, and her toes peeped through holes in her stockings. She looked ravishing.
"You knew?" she breathed.
"I suspected," he countered, "when I found you over the dead bodies of your two captors."
"Oh." She started to pace again, but this time her feet appeared to pick up the rhythm of the flowers' song. "And yet you said nothing?"
"At first… should you have managed to kill him, I would have only been grateful. Do you think you're the first assassin sent against my father? Although I have to admit, the Rebellion is getting clever. Who would have suspected that my innocently raised wife had been trained in the art of—"
She moved then, faster than he would have credited, possibly even fast enough that if she managed to catch his father unawares, she had a slim chance of being successful. She had her girdle half around his throat when he encased her in dull gray fire.
"You are good, my lady. But not good enough."
Her brown eyes blazed with a fire of their own. "You knew I would try. But Mor'ded won't. I have a chance."
Dominic shook his head. "You will not risk it."
"I must try."
"Damn it, you little hoyden. Must I keep you imprisoned to ensure your safety?"
Her mouth narrowed in a stubborn line. Faith, how he admired this slip of a woman.
"You will stay like that until I have your promise."
She glanced down. Fire ringed her body in shimmering flames of gray, held fast her hands with her girdle still clutched between them, trapped her waist in a bent-over position. Dominic sighed and slipped away from her garrote, rose to walk around her, a half smile crooking his mouth. "The position has its merits."
"You wouldn't."
"No, I would not. But my father…" And he let the threat hang between them, for he'd seen Mor'ded perform acts that had threatened to make him ill. He did not want to expose Cassandra to the atrocities his father committed. Despite her ties with the Rebellion, she had been raised innocent of the brutal natures of men and elvenkind.
He released the gray fire and caught her up in his arms. "I will kill the one who coerced you to be the Rebellion's tool," he muttered.
She laid her head against his shoulder with a sigh. "I chose to do this, Dominic. I would willingly give up my life to free the people of England."
"Well I am not so unselfish," he replied. "I will not give you up for anything or anyone. You cannot succeed, Cassandra. Promise me you will cease this notion of trying to kill my father. Allow me to try to keep you safe."
She looked up at him, a wealth of sadness on her face. "I love you, Dominic, but I fear you carry too much elven blood to truly see the world the same way that I do."
Her words, ah, her words made his heart sing and fear plunge through him like a knife. "You will get used to it."
"Nay, I shall not. I will never get used to the slavery of my people."
Dominic held her quietly in his arms for a time, while the wind died and the flowers ceased their song. "I have tried to kill him," he whispered. "And I could not succeed."
She twisted out of his arms and stood at his side, a tiny girl with a will of iron. "But together we might."
Dominic shook his head. She still did not understand. He could not protect her innocence in this matter. He would have to show her.
* * *
He showed her the hidden gate in the garden, taught her the word to open it, and then brought her into the palace by way of another hidden passage, lighting their path with a handful of warm yellow fire. Dominic hadn't used this particular entrance since he was a child, sneaking out to the elven garden that his father had forbidden him. Since Father rarely went there now, he hadn't the need for such secrecy.
The passage had sprouted a wealth of cobwebs since he'd last been inside, and he'd taken wrong turns twice, but he finally arrived at the door that led into the great room. He turned and held his flame closer to his wife's face. "Are you sure you still want to do this?"
She nodded, brushing at a strand of web at her cheek. Cassandra had barely said a word since he'd dragged her from the garden and shown her the hidden door to the passage. She looked frightened. And very determined.
Dominic squelched the fire in his palm and lowered his head and kissed her, wanting to linger the moment his lips touched hers but not daring to do so. He straightened and pushed the lever that unlatched the door, slowly opening it and peering around before stepping into the great room. Cassandra followed, and the door shut behind her with the slightest of creaks.
They stood behind a stone pillar, over a hundred paces from the dais that held Mor'ded's throne.
His father would not be back for at least another couple of days, and his attention would be focused on hunting the gifted elven children. Still, the general led Cassandra from pillar to pillar, avoiding the sconces of red fire that lit the long hall, listening for the clacking heels of the gentry or the softer footsteps of a slave.
His shoulders finally relaxed when they reached Mor'ded's throne without discovery. He opened the door in the wall behind it, calling back the yellow fire to light the way. He stopped at the stout oak door halfway down the passage and took a deep breath. If Ador had not told him that he possessed the power to dispel the wards on this door, he never would have attempted it the other night. Father's spells glowed with deadly threat in a sparkling web that covered the oak.
"Beware," he murmured to Cassandra, gently pushing her small body behind his. He raised his hands to the door, calling to the gray fire, encasing each strand of the seeming web with the dull flame. It took him much longer to neutralize the wards than it would have taken his father, and they wouldn't stay down permanently—as he'd discovered last night, to his infinite relief. He didn't want Mor'ded to know his secret had been uncovered. As he reached the last strands, flames shot toward him as if they protested against his meddling with their final strength. His magical defenses quickly responded with a blaze of their own, squelching the attack. Dominic encased the remaining strands, lowered his arms, and turned to his wife.
"Down this passage," he said, pointing to his left, "is the entrance to Mor'ded's private chambers. It's not warded with a spell of fire, as it saps even an elven lord's energies to keep up an active ward like this one, but there's a plant within that's nastier than the vine guardian."
"I understand," she said. "I will be careful, Dominic."
He raised a brow. She'd already proven how little she valued her life when it came to her passion for the Rebellion. He only hoped that what he now showed her would convince her of the futility of matching her powers against Mor'ded's.
Dominic opened the heavy door and tried not to breathe too deeply of the dust inside the passage. With a handful of yellow flame he followed the twisting tunnel, his wife hard on his heels, and they descended deep into the earth, the walls becoming rough and jagged as they neared their destination.
The tunnel abruptly ended at an opening that widened into a large underground cavern. The general put one foot into the chamber, gently catching Cassandra about the waist as she attempted to brush past him. "Do not go any farther."
"What is it?" she whispered. "Is it warded here as well?"
"No. But you don't want to… ah God, I shouldn't have brought you here."
"Do not take the Lord's name in vain," she whispered.
Her faith continued to puzzle him. "That was a prayer to him, my lady. If he should indeed exist."
Her eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't have time to debate theology with her. He itched to be gone from this place. He exchanged the yellow fire for white, the brighter flame spilling from his hands to light the rough-hewn ceiling, revealing the contents of the cave in horrid detail.
Cassandra blinked and stared in confusion.
Dominic did not blame her. If it hadn't been for Ador's words, he wouldn't have understood what lay within this cavern.
A black platform made of stone stood in the center of the chamber. Mounds of grayish white dust layered the back of the cavern, spilled over to small trickles near their feet.
"Behold the fabled land of Elfhame," said Dominic.
"I don't… what do you mean? What is all this ash?"
"Children."
Her soft brown eyes blinked in confusion as she stared at the powder near her feet, and he saw horror slowly harden them to a glittering bronze when the full import of his explanation dawned on her. Cassandra gasped a wordless denial, and she shivered while he clutched her tightly to him.
"This is where the children who hold too much of the elven power are sent. After they are put to the flame by the Imperial Lord."
"No," she breathed. "They are sent to Elfhame. To a better life of richness and happiness."
"Think on it, Cassandra. Would families bring their children to the trials if they knew what fate awaited them? But with the promise of being sent to the fabled land of Elfhame, it's easy for the Imperial Lords to gather together children who might be a threat to their rule. Even then some still refuse."
She covered her face with her hands, her words muffled by her fingers. "But only one or two a year are chosen. There is so much ash here… Dear heaven, the generations of innocents…"
Dominic could not stop the self-recrimination that flowed through him. "That's why my father left the palace. To hunt down the families who refused to give up their children to the trials. And I sent him after them."
She slowly lowered her hands and looked up at him.
"I didn't know. Do not look at me like that." Dominic wanted to shake her, so he loosed her, and she swayed. "I did not know. I did not know I had enough power to dispel the wards until Ador told me last eve. But I should have tried. I know better than anyone the madness of the elven lords. I should have guessed something more lay behind the trials. Instead I chose to turn my back on everything human, including that which lay inside of me."
She put her small hand against his chest, covering his heart with her palm. "You are not the monster, Dominic. Your father is."
"And powerful enough to destroy you with a flick of his scepter," he pressed. "Powerful enough to enslave an entire country. You have been lied to, my dear. You have no hope of killing him. The Rebellion is nothing but the hum of an angry insect against Mor'ded's ear. If they become too much of a nuisance, he will swat them."
"He knows of the Rebellion, then?"
Dominic reined in his patience. When would she think of the danger to herself? "Not yet. I haven't chosen to share their existence with him yet, although I'm sure he's aware there is a resistance. I've been saving it for when he becomes bored."
"Bored?"
"You may say it with contempt, my dear, but you do not know the danger when an Imperial Lord becomes bored. Why do you think they left their perfect land of Elfhame?" Her hand made a fist against his heart, and he saw the tight furl of the petals on her rose ring. He covered that fist with his larger hand. "Oh yes, Elfhame does exist, but I don't know if the elven lords can even return, much less how they first shattered the barrier between our world and theirs. But my father once told me that's why they left. They became bored with peace and perfection."
She made a strangled sound and it tore at his soul. It made him wish his elven blood hadn't betrayed him and allowed his human heart to rule. He did not like feeling her pain as if it were his own.
"Please, Dominic," she whispered. "No more. Have mercy and take me from this wretched place."
He called back the white fire and plunged the cavern into darkness, but it could not change what lay there. He lifted his wife into his arms and carried her back up through the tunnel, unburdened by her weight but worried for her soul. Perhaps he had pushed too hard. But she would heal; he knew her inner strength. And he hoped he'd convinced her to give up the Rebellion and their futile attempts to win back England.
Luck stayed with him and he found the great hall empty, used the servants' stairs to carry her up to their rooms. Her two little slaves waited for them at the door to their apartments, both of their faces twisting with alarm at the sight of their mistress.
"What happened?" demanded the younger, always the cheekiest.
"She got tangled up in a guardian vine," he deigned to reply. "She's not injured. She but needs some care."
"Yes, yes, of course," whispered the older one, her hazel eyes soft with concern. "Oh, my lady. Your hair. Your dress!"
Lady Cassandra rallied in his arms. "It's all right, May. The vine got the worst of it. Truly, Dominic, you can set me down. I shan't faint."
His lips twitched, but otherwise his face felt rigid as stone. He felt relieved his defenses had not fully abandoned him. It felt… easier to sink back into his elven demeanor.
Lady Cassandra swayed on her feet, but as promised, she did not faint. The oldest girl fled out the door with a bucket, promising her lady a warm bath and a hot meal. Dominic's stomach growled and he realized with surprise that he felt ravenous. But he hadn't the heart to eat.
"You're leaving," said his wife in a toneless voice.
The smaller slave girl watched them with too much wisdom in those young eyes.
Dominic lifted Cassandra's chin, but she refused to meet his gaze. "Do not blame the messenger."
Her breath hitched.
He wanted to enfold her in his arms and comfort her, but a lifetime of training made him deny the impulse. "I will be back soon."
She nodded and turned away, disappearing into their bedchamber.
Her servant looked up at him. "She had great faith in the power of her God." And then she scurried after her mistress.
Dominic spun and strode out the door. The little chit saw too much. He knew it would be dangerous to have servants about. But his wife needed someone to soothe her right now, and despite how he wished it might be otherwise, it couldn't be him. Not yet. For now the general needed a bit of soothing of his own.
He dragged his feet up the tower stairs, feeling as if the steps had multiplied since the last time he'd gone up them. As he climbed his anger faded, and when he stepped through the tower door he felt nothing but sadness left inside of him. For him, for his wife, for the whole damned country of England.
Ador sprawled against the merlons at the far end of the tower, his black snout wedged within a crenel, his red-striated eyes gazing at the gray sky. But for once Dominic felt no urge to talk to the beast. He'd sought only the quiet of the tower, the fresh smell of rain-washed breezes, the softness of gathering dusk.
A gentle breeze stirred his hair and brought the fishy smell of the Thames along with it. Dominic leaned over a crenel, not far from Ador, the stone cool and rough beneath his hands, the solid feel of it helping to anchor him to the earth again. Helping him to lock the horror of the cavern back into the small box in his mind that protected his sanity.
But he could not do the same with his feelings for his wife. He'd admitted it to himself and her, and now he could never go back to feeling nothing again. She had breached his defenses and he would be vulnerable. And he would do anything to keep her safe… and happy. Fie, he hadn't considered the concept of happiness for so long, he wasn't sure if he could even offer it.
"I would change the world for her if I could," he whispered to the deepening night, to the stars, to that God of hers that she would no longer believe in. Not after today.
Ador's sigh sounded like a great bellows, tingeing the air with the scent of sulfur and smoke. "I have waited long and long to hear you say those words."
"I'm not in the mood for your confidences tonight, Ador."
The dragon made a loud harrumphing noise like an indignant old man. "So now that you know what the madman has been doing to those children, what will you do about it?"
"I don't know," he wearily replied. "When will my powers be strong enough to challenge him?"
"Only you can answer that."
Dominic's hands clenched into fists. "I have tried to find this greater power within me, and to no avail. The scepter keeps it from me just as surely as it keeps my magic hidden from my father." His fists loosened and he dropped his head in his hands, feeling suddenly weary. "And if I do indeed possess it, as you say, I dread the task before me. Damn this human heart, but the man is my father."
Scales slithered on stone, and the general felt hot breath against his back. "That's the problem with opening yourself to human emotion. You become capable of such great love… and great sorrow. Will you allow it to strengthen your power or weaken it?"
Dominic sighed. His feelings for Cassandra could only make him more vulnerable. They did not have some mystical way of strengthening an elven's power, or the Imperial Lords would have been defeated long ago. He did not tell this to the dragon, his weariness beyond anything he'd ever felt before, tired of answering hopeless questions.
Tired of feeling the utter desperation of his life. What would it matter if he defeated Mor'ded anyway? England still had six other elven lords ruling the rest of the country, and they would rise against him as soon as they discovered the death of his father. He could not stand against them, and Firehame would fall. Millions more innocents would suffer. As he thought of that harsh reality, a weight of despair unlike any he'd ever felt before settled about his shoulders.
He did not lift his head when he heard the dragon rise, when he felt the displacement of air from the mass of the beast's movement. Humid wind pushed against his body from the beat of leather wings and then calmed.
"It's an excellent night for a star dance," rumbled the dragon. "I offer you the skies of your true homeland, elven lord's son."
Dominic's head snapped up. And higher still, Ador suddenly appearing larger than he could imagine. Had he heard the dragon aright? After so many years, did the beast volunteer to carry a human upon his back?
The dragon snorted. "Unless your newly awakened human emotions include that of fear."
Dominic used his elven grace and strength to mount in one fluid motion, as he'd so often seen his father do. He grasped the edge of a scale near the dragon's neck, tucking his legs in front of the joints of Ador's wings.
The dragon's laughter shook the stones of the tower, shivered the calm night, and made the hairs on the back of Dominic's neck rise. The crushing despair he'd felt but moments earlier faded, to be replaced by a rush of excitement as Ador beat his wings harder and faster. With a lurch that nearly unseated the general, they rose into the lavender night, wind rushing past his ears, air chilling the higher they climbed.
Dominic threw back his head and laughed, surely sounding like the madman Ador professed his father to be. But the general didn't care. The freedom of flight, the absence of earth beneath his feet, made him drunk with exhilaration. It felt more magnificent than he had ever imagined.
Ador showed off for his rider, swinging smoothly from side to side, catching swift pockets of air currents and shooting along them with a speed that made Dominic's eyes water. The dragon climbed higher and higher until the general thought they'd surely reached the stars, for they glowed so brightly, seeming close enough to touch. And the dragon danced between them, a lilting glide that put Dominic in mind of Cassandra's elven dances. And he wished she could be with him.
Ador finally slowed and dropped lower, until they flew above the shadowed land of England, Mor'ded's red fire geysers scattered across the landscape, lighting up valley and road, fingers of flame seeming to threaten everything Dominic loved. Within a trice, they flew over London, the silvery ribbon of the Thames, minuscule lights blinking from the buildings below them. They flew toward Firehame Palace, the yellow flames that licked its walls making it shine like a sinister beacon within the city.
Or at least, that's how Dominic viewed his father's occupation of England.
Ador landed sooner than the general would have liked, a solid thud that shook the tower, snapped Dominic's teeth together. He sat for a moment, enjoying the up-and-down motion of the dragon's labored breathing, the way his own frozen cheeks and hands slowly thawed, and hoping Ador would take flight again. Dominic finally sighed, slid down a lowered wing, surprised to find his legs a bit shaky beneath him.
He bowed to the beast, the sweeping gesture the only way he could think of to properly thank Ador.
The dragon grinned at him, a flash of pointed yellowed teeth that had Dominic hoping never to see such a gesture from the beast again.
"Feel better, elven bastard?"
Dominic frowned. Had the dragon indeed taken him on that wild ride just to make him feel better? He would never have suspected that the beast knew him that well, but then again… "Aye, I do. You have reminded me I fight for more than just myself, dragon. I'll keep that in mind next time I'm tempted to wallow in self-pity."
"Good. Then I can tell you that your father will return on the morrow."
Dominic calmly nodded.
"And," continued Ador, "he has found the children who fled from the trials."
"Do any of them possess enough power to be sent to… Elfhame?"
The dragon did not question Dominic's choice of words. Better to continue the charade than to slip in front of his father.
"I would not mention it otherwise. There is one girl who promises to be more than even the scepter can guess at."
Dominic ignored the guilt that threatened. "Then have the scepter hide her magic from my father as well."
"Must I explain everything to you? The black scepter holds only an affinity for the power of fire. Even then it is more of an… amplifier of that power. It cannot hide another Imperial Lord's magic."
"So this girl comes from another sovereignty. Which?"
"Dewhame."
Dominic cursed. She would have the magical ability of blue sky and water, then. Breden's realm. That elven lord continued to be a thorn in his side. "The elven lords like to keep their nobles close. What is she doing in Firehame?"
"Hiding."
"Ah. The Rebellion raises its annoying head again." Dominic didn't feel particularly surprised when Ador just nodded. Of course the dragon knew of the Rebellion. The general hesitated to think of how many things Ador truly knew. And how he managed to acquire the information. "The trials are to be held in two days' time."
"Then you had best determine how to save her," rumbled Ador. "The scepter feels she may be important."
It didn't matter to Dominic how important the girl might be to the game between the elven lords and their scepters. If indeed all the scepters were as duplicitous as his father's and sought to return to Elfhame as well. Dominic had brought the child into harm's way and honor demanded he save her. But how?
"My power is not strong enough to challenge my father yet."
"No."
"Then how can I save her?"
"I don't have all the answers, bastard. Isn't it about time you used your human heart to answer your own questions?"
The general spun, then quickly held up his arms to shield his face from the force of Ador's wings beating back up into the air. He watched the black speck dwindle into the stars and tried to contain his frustration.
So the dragon would help him only so far, and Dominic must figure out the rest for himself. He feared he could be only a pawn in this game between the dragon and his father. Yet hadn't he done that his whole life? Become a player in his father's war games? And he'd become a champion of them.
He vowed he would become a champion of this more deadly game.
The thought made his lips twitch. Then his stomach rumbled. Loudly.
He could stand here and allow his head to spin with a million questions and still not have any answers. Or he could go to the kitchens and snatch some dinner and then go comfort his wife.
* * *
The curtains around the bed had been drawn and the fire banked for the night. Dominic stripped off his clothing and slipped into bed, the wonder of his night ride with Ador still making him feel a lingering joy. But Cassandra had not been given a wonder to comfort her, and she lay with her back to him, her body stiffening when he ran a hand over her shoulder.
He knew of only one way to comfort a woman. One way to make her cry out with joy.
Dominic stroked the hair away from her cheek, his fingertips lingering on the softness of her skin. He could feel the muscles in her jaw as she gritted her teeth. He slid his hand beneath the covers, along the smooth curve of her waist, over the sweet mound of her bottom.
She pulled away from him. How could he comfort her if she would not let him touch her?
"So," he growled. "You do blame me after all."
Her voice sounded as if it came from a great distance. "No… I… I just wish the elven had never come to our world. With their games and their dragons and their damned magic."
Dominic sat up, spreading his fingers, calling forth the yellow flame from the magic that sang in his veins. The mellow fire played along his fingertips, lit their curtained cocoon with a soft golden glow. She did not blame him. Precious girl.
He flicked his fingers, sending the small yellow flames upward to dance along the carved wooden ceiling of the box bed. He called forth the magic again and again, flicking it upward, watching it create a spatter of light that resembled the stars in the night sky Ador had just showed him.
"Magic is not so bad," he murmured. "It's up to the user whether it brings pleasure or pain. Your elven love dance brought me great pleasure."
She made a dismissive sound deep in her throat.
He felt a smile curl his lips, looked down at her then, his ceiling of fire casting her in a golden glow, making her brown hair look like silken honey, her skin like shimmering silk. She still lay stiffly with her back to him, the covers snug about her waist, revealing only the smooth curve of her back and one bare arm.
"Will you not look and see the ceiling of stars I've made for you?" he asked.
She stubbornly shook her head.
Dominic called down one yellow flame, his eagerness making it dance and swirl. It touched her shoulder, made a circling motion, and her arm twitched at the gentle tickling heat. He called down another, sweeping the flame against the curve of her back. The next one he brought to her neck, made it curve beneath the fall of her hair and weave its way through the satiny strands of golden brown.
He envied his fire, for he wanted nothing more than to trace his own fingers across the paths on which he sent them.
But he could touch her in a thousand places at once with the myriad flames, and it brought him pleasure to imagine her own. So he sent the tiny flickers to her more quickly. Some to warm her back. More to weave within her hair. Yellow flames wove between her fingers, lightly moving her hands as they spun within her palms.
She pretended to ignore them.
Dominic traced her cheek with flame, eased more across her lips, and imagined his own mouth upon them when she sighed. He made the flames catch the covers and lift them up, draw them down her body until he could see the curve of her hip, the long length of her legs, the small soles of her feet. A shiver went through her from the chill air and he quickly sent more whorls of yellow to caress her legs, play with her toes, flick over her hips.
He narrowed his eyes in concentration as she continued to ignore his magic, ruthlessly skimming her bottom with tendrils of flame, finally sending some to tickle the crease between her buttocks.
Cassandra let out a startled yelp and flipped onto her back.
Dominic continued to play with his fire as if he stroked the keys of some erotic instrument, his entire being caught up in bringing pleasure to his wife. He hadn't realized what intense satisfaction it would bring him.