Sixteen
Mor'ded summoned Lady Cassandra to his private chambers the very next morning.
Cass had been lazing about, reliving the garden party of the day before, determined to never forget one single golden moment of it… or the precious moments afterward.
Dominic had risen before dawn, brushing his lips across her cheek before he left to attend to his military duties.
Now the morning sun slanted across the foot of her bed, and Cass watched the dust motes dance in the light. She felt as if she glowed inside brighter than that sunbeam, brighter than any fire her husband could summon. For he'd told her he loved her. Not that he cared or felt protective, but that he truly loved her.
She'd never thought to hold such happiness in her heart.
Gwendolyn opened her bedroom door in such a rush that Cass sat up with a start, swallowing a yelp.
"Oh, my lady," panted Gwen, her cheeks flushed a bright pink. "There's a fearsome creature in the hall asking to see ye."
"Faith, Gwen, you startled me." Lady Cassandra fought to keep calm. "And keep your voice down, dear. You don't want to offend our visitor." Cass couldn't imagine what person would inspire such fear in Gwen, but they both performed her toilette in record time, and she walked through her apartments to the main entrance, Gwen right on her heels.
The girl hadn't exaggerated. When Cassandra opened the door, she did indeed face a creature, not a person. Crimson fire shaped a wraithlike being, with emaciated limbs and a face that constantly broke into oozing bubbles of black sludge.
"You are summoned by the Imperial Lord," said the creature, spewing flaming spittle onto the stone floor. "To his private chambers."
Cass tried to speak. Nothing articulate would come from her throat. This thing appeared more solid than anything she'd seen the courtiers produce with their meager gifts. Further proof, if she'd needed it, of the enormous power that Mor'ded could call upon.
Fortunately the creature didn't seem to need a reply. Once he'd delivered his message, he started to burn hotter, seemingly from the inside out. Both Cass and Gwen backed up, held their hands up to their faces to shield them from the wash of heat. Within seconds, the creature shriveled to black, only coarse ash and several black smudges in the flagstone to mark the spot where he'd stood.
"Mor'ded sends a fire messenger only when he's angry at someone," whispered Gwendolyn. "Oh, my lady, ye cannot go alone! We must fetch the champion."
Cass slowly closed the door, blocking off the heat that still lingered from the creature. Dominic. Faith, no. He would only die in an attempt to protect her. Despite his belief that Mor'ded wouldn't harm her because of her supposed pregnancy, Cassandra knew the time of reckoning had come. She hadn't really thought otherwise. She just hadn't expected it to be so soon.
"No, Gwen. Say nothing of this to the general. Indeed, speak of it to no one. And If I don't return… take care of my husband with the same unquestioning loyalty you've shown me."
The girl studied her with those crystal eyes that gleamed with too much knowledge of the cruelty of the world for one so young. The panic that had shown on her face since she'd announced their messenger suddenly faded. "Before ye go, please come with me." She held out her hand.
Cass stared at the small fingers in confusion. She needed music, some rhythm to focus on to gather her skills. She doubted if she'd even have a chance to use an elven death dance, with Mor'ded alert and waiting for her, but she would not easily go like a lamb to slaughter.
"My ladyship," prodded Gwen, taking Cass's hand in her own and leading her to the servants' room.
"I have to go," whispered Cass.
"In but a moment, lady." Gwendolyn opened the door, revealing their cozy room with May seated on a chair near a small window. The older girl stood, exchanged an indecipherable look with Gwen, and then went to their wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer.
Cass snapped out of her stupor. While Gwen enjoyed socializing, Cass had understood that May preferred the solitude of her own company, her fingers always twitching with the desire to weave. So she'd kept the girl supplied with cloth and ribbons, and Lady Cassandra wore the most ornate stomachers and patterned shawls of any of the ton.
The elven lord would not care that she wore a new shawl, and Cass cared only that a sturdy leather girdle encased her waist. But when May held up her arms, the words of protest died on Cass's lips. For the girl appeared to hold nothing but air, even though she held her fingers clasped together as if she displayed a length of cloth.
"May?"
The girl smiled, a proud tilt to the angle of her lips. "'Tis a mantlet."
"Indeed." Had the girl gone mad? Did she now weave cloaks in her imagination?
Gwen tugged on Cass's sleeve. "Look closely, my lady."
Cassandra squinted. "Have you managed to weave air, May? For I see nothing but that within your hands."
May shook her blonde head. "What use would a cloak of air be? Although I hope ye don't mind that I made this, my lady. Because of yer… habits, I feared ye might need some protection." She gave a pointed glance at the younger girl. "And it seems we were correct."
Cass reined in her patience. She didn't have time for this. Only the thought that the girls meant well managed to curb her tongue. "What have you done, May?"
The servant flushed. "I have woven yer dreams."
"My dreams?"
"Oh aye. And sorry I am that I took them from ye without telling."
"She couldn't have done it without me," added Gwen. "I had to find them for her, don't ye see? And their light is faint, and they float for such a short while that we had the devil of a time catching them."
May nodded enthusiastically. "They kept trying to float away while I wove them. It took all the skill I had to bind them together."
Cass could only stare at the two girls with bewilderment while they each took a pinch of air and wrapped it about her shoulders. To her astonishment, she did feel something, a hint of weight that felt as light as the touch of a gentle breeze.
"You wove me a cloak of my dreams?" Enthusiastic nods. "And this is supposed to protect me?"
"Oh, well, we can't be too sure of that," said Gwen.
May scowled. "Of course we can. Sometimes our dreams are all that we have to protect us—isn't that right, my lady?"
"I don't know, May. I've often relied on my faith, but never my dreams." Cass hugged her own shoulders, and a wisp of memory slipped through her mind. A dream she'd once had, of a child with Dominic's pointed ears peeking through curls of her own brown hair. "But it certainly can't hurt, and I thank you for making it for me."
Two pairs of hazel eyes welled up with tears and Cass frowned.
"My dears, I'm just going to meet with my fatherin-law, nothing more." She swallowed, trying to believe her own words. Surely Mor'ded wouldn't harm her, not when he thought she carried his new champion, not when he risked alienating the ton. But she saw the burning fire through London too vividly in her mind. He'd harmed thousands of innocents with a temper tantrum because Cecily had escaped his evil hands. Had he discovered she'd helped the girl to freedom? And what would he do to her for such a transgression?
No, she would not lie to herself. Mor'ded would not send that fire creature to her very door unless he'd found out some of her secrets. She would trust her first instinct. The time had come.
Cass suppressed a shiver of fear and smiled rather shakily at her two servants. "Remember what I said, Gwendolyn. Take care of the general."
"Aye, my lady." She placed a hand on her friend's bent head. "And stop crying, May. Have a bit of faith in your weaving."
Cass spun in a swirl of silk and left the room before her servants could see the look of doubt on her face. A cloak of dreams. What chance did such a weaving stand against the power of an elven lord? Absolutely none. But if she could surprise him with a death dance…
Her footsteps made a pattern of sound on the floor, through the long hall. She crafted a song from it, one that called to her magic, made it swirl inside of her, strengthening her muscles, bringing speed and grace to her movements.
She didn't have a prayer of succeeding.
But she prayed anyway.
She'd seen the door to Mor'ded's private chambers only from a distance, a glow of gold etched with a design that had made her curious, but not enough to venture closer. As she neared she studied the engraving—a map of England, sliced like a pie into seven sovereignties, the lines radiating from a center point somewhere within Oxford. It made her wonder why the elven lords had divided their lands in that particular pattern. Perhaps Sir Robert had some theory about it.
When she raised her hand to knock, she noticed that her fist shook. Fie, she would never have the opportunity to ask the leader of the Rebellion anything.
The door flew open and the song that flooded her veins skipped a beat in response. Her eyes met Dominic's from across the room, and for a moment she didn't recognize him. Her husband stood beside his father, reminding her again that he looked like a younger version of Mor'ded. His black eyes glittered as coldly as his father's, the expression on both men's faces near identical. Very calm, very controlled rage.
And then Dominic's mouth softened and he took a half step toward her.
Her heart fell. Why was he here? He would only die trying to save her from Mor'ded's wrath… but perhaps the Imperial Lord had summoned them both together for just such a reason. A hard knot formed in her chest. She would not allow that to happen.
Cass took in the room in one sweeping glance before she curtsied, keeping her head and body lowered until the Imperial Lord gave her permission to rise. For such a large chamber, it held very little furniture, and most of it unrecognizable as such. A few flower petals shaped like chairs, a large bird-shaped piece that might be a bed, a covered desk. Plenty of room for her to maneuver. The clear rock by the balcony doors didn't trouble her, but the plant on the adjacent wall with its enormous pink pods worried her. She remembered all too clearly the suffocating vines of the plant guarding the elven garden.
"Welcome, Daughter," said Mor'ded, only a slight sneer in his calm, clear voice. "Or should I say welcome to my would-be assassin?"
Cassandra jerked upright, her heart in her throat, her gaze flying to Dominic's face.
"Oh, don't think he has the power to help you," snapped Mor'ded. "He has proven to all the court that he is but a weak human." Then he softened his voice to its usual velvet smoothness. "I will decide your fate, my dear."
Lady Cassandra raised her chin and met the elven lord's eyes squarely, determined not to look at her husband again. She didn't know what Mor'ded had discovered but she would give nothing away. Especially not the existence of the Rebellion and Sir Robert Walpole's role in it. "I'm not sure what you mean, Your Most High. I thought my fate had already been decided—to give birth to your next champion."
"Don't play the innocent with me, girl. Do you think I don't know what you've been up to?"
She tried to turn the fear that flooded her limbs into strength for her dance, but it proved too much for her and shook her legs with weakness instead. "I hardly know what you mean…"
Within a blink Dominic stood next to her, his heavy hand a welcome warmth on her shoulder. But she couldn't allow him to intercede on her behalf. She knew what awaited her when she'd taken up the vow to the Rebellion, and despite her newly found love and the promise of happiness, she would face the consequences alone.
She stepped away from her husband.
"You will not play with her as you do with me," said Dominic. "Tell us what you are accusing her of."
"You reveal her treachery as you stand before me," replied Mor'ded, rolling his scepter between his pale hands. He wore a suit of such a dark emerald green that it appeared black, mirroring the color of the abyss of his eyes. The flared skirt of the coat, the lace at his neck and sleeves, did not give him the appearance of femininity in the least. Indeed, it made the man within the costume seem ferociously male by comparison.
"She has done nothing," said Dominic, and Cass could only wince at the lie.
"She has turned my son against me."
They both stilled at his words. Dominic sucked in a slow breath, but Cass knew her face couldn't maintain his calm. She could not mask her surprise. She'd expected Mor'ded to accuse her of being an assassin, of betraying him by helping Cecily escape. Of anything but accusing her of stealing his son away from him. A son he tortured.
"You are mad," said Dominic.
"Yes, well, humans call it madness because they don't understand the superiority of a higher intelligence. But I thought my son was beginning to, that his elven blood would prevail. How… disappointing that I erred in judgment."
Cassandra suddenly realized this meeting wasn't about her. Either Mor'ded knew nothing about her part in the Rebellion, or he didn't care. The elven lord saw only her husband as a threat and Cass herself as nothing but a tool to trap him.
Cass stepped back to Dominic's side.
Dominic shrugged. "I admit I've become protective of the girl. After all, she carries my child."
Cass knew her husband thought to remind Mor'ded of the reason he could not afford to harm her. But the Imperial Lord looked disappointingly unruffled.
"But she has not turned me against you," Dominic added.
"Your wife's existence is but a minor nuisance," he replied. "Indeed, I look forward to playing with her, as you call it. But you, on the other hand, have become more trouble than you're worth." Mor'ded pointed the triangular-shaped head of his scepter at Dominic, punctuating his words with a sharp jab in his son's direction. The odd writing inscribed on the talisman swirled to life, making Cass's head spin for a moment.
She quickly tore her gaze away from those glowing runes and clutched Dominic's arm. Did he not understand that Mor'ded threatened him and not her? Or did he not care, seeking only to protect her? She would not allow it. "My husband has done nothing to betray you."
The Imperial Lord's cold black gaze settled on her, and Cass refused to allow her fear to show. When Dominic saw Mor'ded's attention shift to her he immediately tried to shield her with his body, but Cass stepped lithely around him, the song she'd created for her dance still humming in the back of her mind.
Mor'ded slowly waved the scepter in front of him with his words, like a black snake waiting to strike, ticking off each of his son's transgressions. "He has proven that he cannot overcome the weakness of his human blood by caring for you. He challenged me in front of my own court, and instead of laughing at his weakness, the fools felt compassion for him. He used his powers to heal the drudges in the city and now they print words of praise about his kind heart. He has turned away from everything I've tried to teach him, all because of you. And as your reward, I've decided that you will watch him die."
Lady Cassandra dropped her husband's arm, tried to lunge forward, but Dominic proved to be faster than her rage for he reached out and caught her about the waist.
"You are overreacting, Father."
His voice sounded so calm that Cass felt like screaming.
Mor'ded's attention shifted to Dominic. "Perhaps. But your insistence on your wife's condition made me realize that you are now expendable. Soon I will have a new champion and this time I will make no mistakes with him. I will make sure to destroy any part of him that is human."
Cass grasped at the faint hope that Mor'ded would turn his deathly gaze back to her. She did not want to live in a world without Dominic. "It's a lie. I do not carry—"
Her husband's strong hand covered her mouth and he whispered in her ear, "Hush, my love. Do not let my death be for naught."
She wanted to tell him that she refused to live without him, but his hand held steady over her lips, and nothing but muffled cries escaped her mouth.
Mor'ded laughed, and Cass noticed he'd lowered the scepter to his side. And she remembered what Ador had told her. That the scepter was the key. But the key to what? Cassandra went still and she felt Dominic's muscles relax their hold. The scepter enhanced the elven lord's powers and, by the dragon's admittance, held some sort of awareness. And wanted to return to Elfhame. Could the scepter somehow aid them?
"You humans are a constant source of entertainment," said Mor'ded with a chuckle, his pleasure a mocking, evil thing. "Always willing to sacrifice each other in the name of love. But remember, Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy, my dear Cassandra." And he lifted his scepter, pointed it at Dominic. A black haze formed around the triangular-shaped head, then slowly crept through the air toward Dominic.
"Leave my wife out of this, Father. She is no threat to you."
"You are hardly in a position to make demands." Mor'ded heaved an overly dramatic sigh. "But at least you no longer beg and cry for the human pets. I managed to break you of that habit, at least."
Black sludge reached the toes of Dominic's boots. The song of a death dance still vibrated through Cass's body.
Mor'ded shifted his weight to one leg, a negligent stance that belied his eagerness to see his son tortured to death. But Cass heard it in his words.
"We've known this day would come, haven't we, Son? You hold the command of my army, and I was willing to allow that. But even though your magic is still weak, you gained the support of the court and the people of London. The girl was but a catalyst, for I knew you would one day seek more power to try to defeat me. You have enough elven blood to desire the thrill of conquering a more formidable foe. It's been enjoyable to watch you struggle. I will miss the entertainment." His cold black gaze flew to Cass. "But perhaps the girl will make up for the lack. If your child proves not to be a champion, the girl might still breed true once I have a go at her."
Dominic growled low in his throat. The black sludge sprouted wings of fire, curling around his ankles and up his calves. Cass watched in horror as the dark flames pierced the leather of his boots, seeped into his breeches.
"It's sad that we true elven breed so rarely," continued Mor'ded, "but it means I will use her well. If she can come to enjoy a bit of torture, she should last several years. Does that comfort you, lad?"
More thick black fire had slithered up Dominic's legs, wrapping about his waist, threatening to envelop Cassandra as well. Her husband finally released her, trying again to put his body between her and his father, but Cass danced out of his reach. She realized she couldn't save him by revealing the lie of her pregnancy. Mor'ded's words convinced her that nothing would stop him from destroying his son.
The two men faced each other. Despite the fire encasing his feet, penetrating inside his very body, Dominic managed to take a few steps toward Mor'ded. He raised his arms, red fire blazing from his palms, making Cassandra step even farther back from the blast of heat.
"You're going to try again," said Mor'ded, shaking his head in mock sadness. But his eyes glittered with paternal pride. "I knew you would."
Gray fire encased Dominic's red blaze, a swirling battle of heat and nothingness. Mor'ded easily squelched that first attack, but her husband had just begun. He called forth the coldness of white fire, directing it at the black sludge beneath his feet, dampening the wicked heat. A misty vapor curled up from the floor, wrapped about Dominic's pale hair and handsome face. The blackness encasing his waist flickered and died.
Lady Cassandra's heart soared. Had Dominic found a way to combat the black flame without calling on that same power himself?
"Ah," sighed Mor'ded. "Clever, Son. You have concentrated your power in the cold flame… Look, you have grown strong enough to challenge the black. Well done! But the white fire cannot follow the black inside of you—it will only hasten your death. And I wish to savor this moment."
With a flick of the scepter, Mor'ded made the black swallow the white blaze, created a new belt of dark fire about Dominic's waist, and this time it did not play about his body. It bored into her husband's skin, making him gasp and stagger backward. Cass could no longer see the blackness, but she knew that it now ate inside of him, knew Dominic felt the burning of his lungs and very bones.
She wanted to go to him, curl her body about his for protection, cry and plead for his life. But it would do no good. She must channel her fear into fury, must use the skills the Rebellion had taught her and, at long last, try to accomplish her task. Cass slipped her girdle off her waist, held it in her hands, and strengthened the song that shivered in her head.
Mor'ded pointed the scepter at her husband and black fire sprouted from its deadly tip yet again. She did not know if the scepter could aid Dominic or not, she knew only that it was being used against him now. And she must stop it.
Cass took a dancing step toward Mor'ded. Despite Dominic's pain he saw the movement, opened his mouth, but no words came forth. Just an anguished sound of fury.
The Imperial Lord smiled.
His son called forth black fire.
It licked and wove its way to Mor'ded's very feet. Then fluttered and died.
"So you have a bit of the black after all," said the elven lord. "It's a pity it's not enough to provide me with a satisfying challenge."
Cass watched his eyes carefully, making sure they stayed focused on his son as she inched her way closer to him, the girdle clutched tightly within her hands. She must get the scepter away from Mor'ded. It would not stop his attack, but perhaps it would lessen it enough to give Dominic a chance.
Lady Cassandra allowed the song to consume her. Her limbs vibrated with her magic and she danced across the space between her and Mor'ded in a heartbeat, catching the elven lord by surprise. She could not risk touching the scepter, so she snapped her girdle about the rod, the leather belt twining three times around it, and yanked it out of Mor'ded's hold.
The Imperial Lord turned to her with a look of blank shock, which instantly blossomed into a furious rage. "You dare."
He held up elegant hands and black fire flew from his palms to her breast. For a moment nothing happened, as if she held a shield around her.
May's cloak of dreams.
Again, Mor'ded's eyes flickered with shock, and for a timeless instant neither one of them moved.
Black fire curled around the Imperial Lord's throat, and they both turned to look at Dominic. Somehow he'd managed to close the distance between them. Sweat rolled down his forehead, the muscles in his neck taut with strain. He held his broad shoulders slightly bent, as if the weight of pain fought to shove him down to his knees. But her husband kept upright, muscled thighs quivering with the effort.
The black fire that crept around Mor'ded's throat came from Dominic's upheld hands.
Then Cassandra felt the force of Mor'ded's magic. She staggered backward, clutching the girdle with a death grip. But the scepter spun out as the leather unrolled around it, clattering to the floor with a clear ringing sound. She stared helplessly at the talisman while flame twisted inside her chest, robbing her of breath. And Mor'ded had flung only a small amount of black fire at her. It twisted and roiled in her stomach, ripped at her muscles like knives. It destroyed the song that had given her the magic of the dance, and her muscles shook with weakness. She could barely see for the pain.
Good Heavenly Father. What had Dominic been forced to endure? What did he withstand at this very moment?
She focused her cloudy vision on the scepter that had rolled to the edge of her skirts, Ador's words again sounding in her mind. It is the key.
The key to power.
She knew it held power. But only a true elven lord could wield the scepter.
Yet Dominic had touched it and, by his own admission, somehow forged a connection with the talisman. Could he possibly have enough elven blood to actually wield it?
"This has been more entertaining than I anticipated," said Mor'ded. Cass looked up at him. With a negligent toss of his pale fingers, the elven lord dispersed the black fire from around his neck. "But I'm getting bored, my dear. And the thought of you in my bed—screaming—suddenly appeals to me."
Lady Cassandra's shoulders quivered, but not in fear. Indeed, an odd sort of calm descended over her, and a wisp of a dream soothed her mind. A vision of her husband making love to her in a garden of singing flowers. The pain that licked through her chest suddenly eased and she felt a bit of strength flow through her muscles again.
Mor'ded took a step forward, bent down to retrieve the scepter.
"No," screamed Cass, slapping her girdle at the rod. It rolled out of the Imperial Lord's reach and thudded up against Dominic's boots.
"You continue to surprise me, my dear," said the elven lord. "I don't need the scepter to destroy him—or you, for that matter. But I must say you've held up to my power quite well. You shouldn't be able to move. What a treat you will provide me when I bed—"
Cassandra lunged for the scepter, but Mor'ded had the superior speed and strength of the elvenkind and his body hit hers, slamming both of them to the floor. Cass grunted, but she'd landed half atop him and quickly scrambled forward, fingers reaching out for the rod.
"Don't touch it," growled Dominic, crumpling over and picking it up, his voice distorted by pain, his movements jerky from the torture of his muscles. "It will destroy anyone who wields it except…"
He stared at the shiny black talisman, the runes engraved on the surface swirling in a sudden mad dance.
"Except for your father," finished Cass. "And you."
Mor'ded barked a mad laugh. "If you try to use it, it will destroy you."
"Will it?" murmured Dominic. He glanced down at the floor, where his father still crouched a hand's breath from Cass, who knelt in a puddle of skirts. "Does it hum to you, Father? For it's humming to me, feeding me a power beyond anything I've ever known."
Mor'ded's eyes widened, and for the first time since Cassandra had met him, he looked afraid.
"Only one of full elven blood can use the power of a scepter," insisted his father.
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Perhaps I have enough of the blood to try."
"It will kill you."
"Indeed?" Dominic pointed the tip of the staff at the pink pods of the plant across the room. Black fire burst from the scepter, disappeared inside the leaves, and within a trice they shriveled and drooped upon themselves.
The elven lord sprang to his feet, fire at his fingertips. He threw it at his son, and Dominic wavered on his feet; but with a curse he slapped the scepter at the black flames, curling them back upon themselves, straight at Mor'ded.
The Imperial Lord gasped, his body convulsing with sudden agony.
"Father, don't do this. We don't have to destroy each other—"
"Damn you! Do you think you can defeat me? A weak half-human bastard?" Cass felt a sudden yank at her hair and suppressed a shriek. Mor'ded lifted her nearly off her feet and shook her by the brown roots, making her eyes water from the sting of it. "This is why you're weak. Even with the power of the scepter, you cannot do it. Your human heart will not allow it."
Mor'ded had sneered while uttering the last few words. Cass looked at her husband and wondered how the elven lord could be so blind. Dominic looked anything but weak. He grasped the scepter with a firm grip, his body no longer pain-wracked but upright, head thrown slightly back and midnight eyes narrowed grimly at his father. He near glowed with strength, both inner and magical.
"Let her go," he snarled.
"They are nothing but animals," Mor'ded responded, shaking Cassandra again.
And she'd had just about enough. Cass spun, twisting her hair even tighter, and struck out with her fists, catching Mor'ded in the gut. To her satisfaction she heard him gasp, but then his big hand closed around her throat and she clutched at his fingers, trying to pry them off.
"This is the last time I will say it, Father. Let her go."
Cass saw starbursts as Mor'ded slowly squeezed. She could almost feel Dominic gather his magic. Whether the scepter had released the black fire that he'd held inside of him or just enhanced that trickle to a powerful strength, what blazed forth from the scepter far surpassed anything she'd ever seen Mor'ded command.
She felt the magic enter the Imperial Lord, his fingers twitching about her throat from the force of it. Then his hold loosened and she twisted from his grasp, fighting for breath and rubbing at her bruised neck. Unlike Mor'ded, who'd used the black fire in a slow release that prolonged pain, Dominic had thrown one powerful burst of magic at his father.
The elven lord did not suffer when he died.