Five
Dominic entered his apartments later that evening, after having consumed a bit too much wine and fighting off the advances of Agnes. Demanding wench. She annoyed him most of the time—which was precisely the reason he kept her as his mistress. He never felt in danger of becoming attached to her.
But at this moment he felt that his new wife annoyed him more. What business had she to invite herself along on this journey? It would be dangerous and most arduous for a lady, especially one as tiny and frail as Cassandra. Had she no sense of self-preservation?
His shin met the edge of a table and he let out a startled curse. He didn't remember a table in the middle of the room. With a call to the magic in his blood, he lit up the apartments with cold white fire and narrowed his eyes.
What had she done?
Instead of the sparsely furnished rooms he had demanded, a confusing array of color greeted him. Red velvet chairs littered the floor, along with tables of assorted shapes and sizes. Colorful tapestries hung from the previously clean walls, with country scenes and fanciful creatures and flowers.
"Flowers," he muttered, weaving his way through the room.
He paused in the sitting room, his senses alert, the same ones that had saved his life amid many a war. He quietly opened the door to the servants' room, which he'd intended to stay empty. Owners often became fond of their servants and he couldn't afford for that to happen. Nor could he allow possible spies around him, reporting to his father and endangering anyone for whom he showed a weakness. So when he heard soft breathing coming from both beds his annoyance rose. He closed the door as softly as he'd opened it and quickly strode to his bedchamber.
The curtains of the bed had been pulled back and Lady Cassandra lay in the middle of the mattress, arrayed in some gossamer gown that left little to the imagination. And made his groin stir in anticipation. He ignored it, strode over to the bed, and put his hands on his hips.
"I forbid you to go with me tomorrow."
She opened her eyes with a start, looking tousled and frightened and entirely delicious, damn her. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me—and pray tell me the meaning of all this?" He spread his arms, his magic flaring to new life, lighting up the room to a white-hot glow.
She sat up, rubbing at her eyes. "I'm not sure I understand."
Dominic held back a growl of impatience. "You've ruined our apartments and hired two servants."
She frowned at him and he forced his eyes to stay on her face. Her pert nipples thrust at the fabric of her gown and did their best to gain his attention. But the charms of a woman had never distracted him from his purpose, and so it didn't worry him overly much.
"I didn't hire any servants," she said. "And I couldn't bear the coldness of these apartments. Isn't it enough that I must bear the coldness of the court?"
Her soft brown eyes looked at him accusingly and he knew he was to be blamed for the way the court treated her. He shrugged. "It can't be helped."
Her lovely full mouth curled into a frown. "I don't understand."
Dominic spun, refusing to be sympathetic to her, knowing he couldn't afford to involve himself with any feelings his new wife might display. He shrugged out of his coat and then his waistcoat, amused that instead of looking away, his wife eyed him with eager curiosity. "It's not your place to understand, Lady Cassandra. You are to do as you are told and breed another champion; that is all." He sat in one of her velvet chairs and kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his hose from his breeches and rolled them down his legs. "You will disengage the servants tomorrow."
She crawled to the edge of the bed, her gown shifting up over her knees. "I told you, they're not servants."
"Then what, pray tell, are they? Creatures created by the elven lords?"
He could hear the soft sound of her breath as it escaped through her lips. "Like the smoke beings at our wedding breakfast?"
"Not hardly. Those were created by a courtier with but a hint of true power. Now answer my question."
The daft woman completely changed the subject. "Did you enjoy our dance?"
Dominic's mouth twitched. "Which one?"
He enjoyed her blush. "The one at the ball."
"I enjoyed the one in our bed much more."
"As did I." She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if the words had escaped unthinkingly. Dominic tried very hard not to think it charming. Instead he concentrated on finding the buttons of his shirt through all the ruffled trim and began to unbutton them.
She slid off the bed and stood, the light shining through her transparent gown. "And yet you ignore me in front of the court and prefer your mistress by your side."
Dominic allowed his white fire magic to fade to shadow. "Of course. You would do well not to mistake duty with pleasure."
She bristled at that. He admired her courage.
"Duty? You consider it just an obligation to lie with me?"
He removed his shirt, not bothering to stifle a yawn. Let that be her answer. He'd drunk too much tonight, and felt tired unto death of his father's games and the jostling of his minions for his attention. He had no patience for any further pretense, especially with this confusing woman. He'd thought he would marry a boring, biddable girl. At least, that had been his impression before he'd bedded her last night. The realization he'd been gravely mistaken worried him.
"About those servants—"
"That's my magic, you know."
Dominic rubbed his bare chest. She had the oddest way of confounding him. "What?"
"I dance, General Raikes. That's my magical gift."
"Oh." He yawned again, reaching for the buttons of his breeches. He preferred to sleep in the nude when not on the battlefield. It might take several days to fetch the king from the sovereignty of Dewhame. It wouldn't surprise him if Imperial Lord Breden made the task as difficult as possible. He'd sleep in comfort while he could.
"I know many kinds of dances," she continued, her voice suddenly a bit unsure. "Shall I dance for you?"
Dominic leaned back in the chair with a groan, reminding himself to dismiss the servants on the morrow. "There's no music."
"I need none."
And she began to dance.
For the first time in his life, a woman distracted Dominic. More than distracted. Entranced.
The first sway of her body held him frozen in his seat. The slight flutter of her arm became the most erotic movement he'd ever seen. She had a grace that far surpassed those of pure elven blood. The sound of his heart pounded in his ears, the rhythm a perfect accompaniment to her dance.
Dominic could not take his eyes off her. She used her long brown hair as a cape, spinning and revealing parts of her body teasingly, then allowing the silky tendrils to cover her once again. Her brown eyes glazed to a dark luminosity, a fascinating mixture of sultry innocence. Her nightgown hid nothing and yet when she lifted the hem above a thigh, the sight of her smooth skin inflamed him even more.
He had thought her pleasing to look at, exquisitely shaped. But as she danced, she became ethereally beautiful.
Her complete innocence in his bed and genuine faith convinced him she'd been raised religiously, and yet somewhere she'd learned an elven love dance. What manner of woman had he married?
Lady Cassandra ended her dance on her knees in front of him, her head thrown back, breasts thrust forward. Thighs parted and welcoming.
Dominic didn't hesitate. He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and covered her body with his. He'd never felt such lust before, such an overwhelming need to possess a woman. He couldn't even prepare her for entry… but he needn't have worried. She was wet and hot and oh so welcoming. As if performing the dance for him had excited her as well.
When his senses managed to return he found himself flat on his back, staring at the engraving on the ceiling of the box bed, wondering how he would manage to avoid becoming infatuated with the little minx by his side. He quickly closed the curtains around the bed, reached out, and pulled Cassandra near.
She wiggled against him and then gave a satisfied sigh. "Just duty, sir?"
He smiled at her smug tone and refused to answer, his eyes drifting closed.
"May I keep the slaves?"
That brought him alert more quickly than the sound of gunfire. "What slaves?"
"Why, the ones I hired to help me."
So that's what she'd meant by saying they weren't servants.
He had worked in the kitchens as a slave for long dreary years. If she had purposely sought a way into his frighteningly human heart, she could not have done better than by caring for a slave.
"They will steal you blind," he finally said.
"They shan't."
His eyes drifted closed again. "Let it be your worry, then. Just keep them from my sight." And he realized he'd just given her his agreement. Against all likelihood, Lady Cassandra had bewitched him. His only recourse was to stay away from her and her new household. God forbid his father should learn he'd become fond of his wife or took pity on slaves. Not a one of them would be safe from fire.
* * *
Dominic awoke before the sun rose and realized with dismay that his wife had already left the apartments. The stubborn hoyden seemed bound and determined to accompany him to fetch the king. Or to stay by his side. He supposed that becoming pregnant with his child and securing her place as mother of a champion was more important to her than her own safety. But producing a champion would be no easy task; most children were born with either too much power and sent to Elfhame, or too little, like the nobles of his father's court. But he supposed he had a better chance than most of producing a child with acceptable magic.
He parted the curtains and got out of bed, surprised to find his uniform laid out neatly atop his trunk and a kettle of tea warming on the hob. A small basket with fresh biscuits inside sat next to the pot, and he ate them quickly before getting dressed. He rarely broke his fast in the morning but he supposed it would be easy to get used to.
Damn her.
It would not be the last time he cursed her today, for when he entered the courtyard it appeared that half the court had also taken it into their heads to accompany him. The fools had brought carriages and trunks and servants. They had dressed as if they attended a festival, a riot of silks and garish color. Dominic fought back the urge to tell them all to return to their soft beds. Only a few of them had packed lightly and sat atop a horse, so he would lose most on the road anyway.
Unfortunately, one of those who sat a horse happened to be his wife. His eyes narrowed at her sensible riding habit and jaunty hat, the way the rising sun caught the auburn in her brown hair and changed her eyes to golden amber. Had he once truly thought her ordinary? She held the reins with such delicate hands, her slight form straight and graceful in the saddle. His groin stirred as he remembered her love dance, and he realized with a start of alarm that if he'd had a choice, he would rather have spent the day in bed with her than riding out to fetch his prize.
She caught his gaze and held it for a long moment. He felt sure his face revealed nothing—he'd trained it too well over the years—but he couldn't be sure whether his eyes showed a bit of his yearning. For Lady Cassandra smiled with pleasure while a blush of bright red crept into her cheeks. Then her mount snorted and reared, and her attention centered on the huge beast she'd been given to ride.
Dominic frowned, wondering what half-wit had given her the black stallion, who was known for his volatile temperament. Even the best of riders had difficulty controlling the horse. He checked himself as he opened his mouth to demand another mount for his wife, feeling a pair of eyes upon him like a heavy shroud.
Dominic turned. Mor'ded stood on the steps, his black gaze going from his son to Cassandra.
Women always gazed at the elven lords with lustful admiration and he looked enough like his father to be given the same attention. But Dominic couldn't be sure what his own eyes revealed and if he should show the slightest concern for Cassandra's safety…
The general turned his back on his wife, indeed upon all the court, and mounted his own horse, signaling his troops forward. Despite the shrill outcry of alarm from a few of the nobles, Dominic and his men pounded through the gates. By necessity they had to slow through the streets of London and many of the court managed to catch up to them. But when they reached the countryside Dominic set a brisk pace for his men, and as he had predicted, most of the fools fell behind.
A sudden flash of black seething muscle galloped past him, Lady Cassandra clinging to the back of the stallion like a burr. Dominic leaned forward, fully intending to ride after the runaway horse, afraid his new wife would be thrown from the beast and likely break her neck.
A shadow fell over him and he glanced skyward. Ador rode the winds, his father mounted on the dragon's back. So Mor'ded had come to watch the return of the king as well.
He cursed beneath his breath and sat back in the saddle. Mor'ded would wonder if Dominic rode after the girl, wife or no. An elven lord should be concerned only with himself, and humans were but dumb creatures to be used at a whim.
He would kill the half-wit who had given her that horse.
The general continued the brisk pace he had set, perhaps increasing it a bit as he searched far down the road. When he saw the black speck, with a rider still astride, he grunted with relief. Lady Cassandra waited for them to catch up, patting the neck of the lathered, shivering beast. Somehow she had tamed the black stallion. As his troop passed her, she gently flicked the reins and the beast rode smartly along with the rest of the horses, his ears occasionally flicking back at Cassandra as if eager to comply with her slightest wish. He couldn't help but feel a trickle of admiration for his new wife.
Dominic straightened his spine and slowed the pace. He didn't see a need to tire his horses any more than necessary. It would take them several days to reach Devizes in the Wilts, the town that lay on the border between the sovereignties of Dewhame and Firehame, where the exchange of the king was to be made. For now the general fully intended to take advantage of the peaceful countryside to calm the anger his wife had managed to provoke by almost getting herself killed.
He loved the land. The rolling hills and green meadows and quiet ponds. Although he knew that when the elven lords had chosen and conquered each of their sovereignties they had altered the land with their magic, he could still see the original beauty of England beneath the huge elven flame trees with fire red blooms that dotted the green swards of Firehame. Dewhame, where the elven lord Breden ruled with the magic of sky and water, boasted hidden grottos, natural fountains, and enchanted lakes. The eastern sovereignty, where Mi'cal ruled with his green scepter, sported tracks of barely impenetrable forests with a wealth of plants that defied description.
Dominic hadn't visited the remaining four sovereignties but supposed he would fight battles within them some day. His curiosity about them could wait. He hoped he would still be able to recognize the original countryside of England within them, though.
For now he avoided the pockets of flame that shimmered among hill and vale, taking the road less traveled, bringing their party through silent forests and sleepy meadows. The preautumn leaves almost rivaled that of the elven lord's flame trees with their tints of red and orange color. Dominic allowed the beauty and peace to settle over him, storing it up as usual for when he would need to call on it within the palace walls of Firehame.
By the time he found a good place to stop for the night he felt saddle weary but calm. He chose to camp near a small stream within a circle of flame trees, their fire red blooms lighting up the area within and around the clearing. The glow from the blossoms should discourage any surprise attacks.
He signaled for his men to help the ladies—and more than a few gentlemen—to dismount. Each time they had rested the courtiers had scrambled from the saddle with increasing stiffness. If his men hadn't aided them now, they would be sprawled about the ground in all their silks and satin.
His men pitched their tents, including his, the largest of the lot, and built the fires to prepare the meal. Dominic washed up with the other male courtiers at the far end of camp, allowing the ladies some privacy for their own ablutions. His camp cook must have planned for guests for the stew tasted better than usual. Mor'ded did not join them. Ador could fly far faster than the swiftest horse could gallop, and the elven lord would sleep in his own bed tonight back at Firehame Palace.
Dominic hadn't looked at Lady Cassandra the entire day, yet he knew exactly where she rode in their column, knew right now her position around the campfire. He supposed she hadn't thought to bring a tent and he would have to invite her into his. His heart soared at the thought and then he stilled. Granted, he enjoyed bedding her. But he'd never felt such anticipation for a woman before and feared where it might lead.
"Why, General Raikes, I do believe you lost half the court on purpose."
Dominic didn't know whether to feel relief or dismay at the sound of Lady Agnes's whiny voice. "My intention had been to lose them all."
As usual, Aggie laughed, ignoring his cold demeanor and tone of voice.
Few dared approach him. Two of his lieutenants sat next to him but the rest of their party gave him a wide berth.
Lady Cassandra seemed content surrounded by the rest of his men, avoiding the company of the courtiers, who either had the tendency to ignore her or treat her with indifferent disdain. Dominic knew he was to blame, for the dunderheads took their cues from him. He tried to ignore a sudden wash of guilt.
Agnes sat in his lap. "Oh la, it appears that I forgot to bring a tent." She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Would you perhaps have room in yours, my champion?"
Dominic winced. He hated when she called him that. In one smooth movement he picked her up and rose, then set her on her feet. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I have a duty to perform."
Agnes glanced over at Cassandra and frowned. "It's a sad situation, sir, to so deny your pleasure for duty, but I suppose it can't be helped. I'm sure I will find another tent with a bit of room." She smiled coyly at that, her eyes roaming the officers, and then sighed. "Not a one of them could compare to you. If you should need some… comfort during the night, you have but to ask."
Dominic bowed. "I will endeavor to keep that in mind." And then he headed straight for his wife. Discussion stilled when he approached and by the time he reached her side, complete silence reigned among the previously boisterous group. He said nothing, only held out his hand. She looked up at him, those soft brown eyes wide with surprise, and placed her hand in his.
"We have a duty, madam," he said. "Surely that is why you have so inconvenienced me this day." The courtiers overheard. Several of the women gasped and more than a few men snickered. His soldiers just looked at him with dismay.
Cassandra's brilliant eyes dulled but she allowed him to lead her to his tent.
"Even though you may feel I am only your duty," she whispered, "must you say it in front of everyone?"
The sadness in her voice managed to bother him and his words came out harsher than he intended. "I have no feelings, Lady Cassandra. I thought I had made that obvious. You must cease in this ridiculous tendency to be hurt by that fact."
She ducked inside the tent, and he tied the flap closed, shutting out the glow of the fire. He could just make out the outline of her delicate nose, the gleam of her large eyes.
"But you do take pleasure with me," she said, keeping her voice low, knowing those outside could hear everything within their shelter. "What have I done for you to treat me so coldly?"
"I told you not to come. You chose to ignore my wishes. You must accept the consequences of your actions."
"Oh." Her voice shivered, sounding very small.
Devil a bit, he felt no sympathy for her. That horse could have killed her. "Come here."
Her skirts rustled as she moved closer to him. At least she had dressed more sensibly than Aggie, wearing petticoats instead of hoops. Dominic grabbed her shoulders and roughly kissed her. Damn, he had wanted to do that all day.
She melted against him and despite everything, his kiss turned gentle. He brought his mouth to her ear, speaking in nothing but a breath of sound. "It's just fortunate for you that I happen to honor my obligations."
"What…?"
"Your dance, my lady. It brought me satisfaction and yet you had none of your own."
Her breath caught. He laid her down and pulled up her skirts before she had a chance to reply. Her legs shone whitely against the dark rug blanketing the floor of the tent. Dominic ran his hands up and down that smooth skin, pulling down her stockings in the process, until she quit trembling. When had he ever been so concerned about the satisfaction of his bed partner? And yet he could not shake the longing to see her face glowing with pleasure.
Dominic lowered his head and kissed a knee.
She jumped. He kissed the other knee, then began to trail kisses up her thighs, first one, and then the other, until he reached the dark triangle of hair between them.
"You… this… it's shocking."
He smiled and continued his explorations, finding the little nub nestled in her hair, flicking it with his tongue until she started to pant. Dominic raised himself up and picked up her hand, looking at her wedding ring. The petals of the rose had bloomed wide open, and he raised a silver brow at her. "Have I shocked you enough?"
"I don't… I don't think so."
"Excellent." He kissed the tip of her nose and slid down her body and resumed his ministrations. When he suckled her she cried out, and he distantly became aware that the conversation outside had ceased. Well, he was known for his prowess as a lover so he saw no harm in continuing.
She squirmed and cried out again. When her body loosened into spasms, the sounds of pleasure his wife made stirred his rod into painful hardness. But he had resolved not to take her. To deny himself, thereby proving he had nothing to fear from her.
When Lady Cassandra finally stilled, Dominic pulled down her skirts and gathered her into his arms. She lay quietly for a few moments and then said, "What about your duty, sir?"
He smiled for the second time that night and quickly wiped the expression from his face. He would have to be more careful, lest he betray himself that way when others were looking. "I don't feel the need."
"But…" Her hand brushed the hardness within his breeches.
"Hush, go to sleep. Haven't you caused me enough trouble for one day?"
Thank the devil, she listened to him. He felt sure the long ride contributed to her quick obedience to his words, for he soon felt the even rhythm of her sleep.
But sleep eluded him for a long time, and when he awoke the next morning he felt as if he hadn't slept at all. He saw to the disbandment of camp, his words surlier than usual. His men avoided his eyes but the courtiers watched him with eager speculation.
That day the journey seemed twice as long as the day before. He forced himself to ignore Cassandra, for if he looked at her, his groin quickly stirred to life. It made him even more determined to deny the ridiculous attraction he had for her and he took refuge within the elven side of his nature.
But damn his human passion, he could not stop thinking about her and chose a camp for the night before the sun had even passed below the horizon.
Dominic ignored the curious glances of his men, the whispered comments of the court while they made camp, and he used his magic to light the fires. He washed quickly, wolfed down his food, and went to her before she'd eaten half of hers. But she didn't protest as he dragged her into the tent.
They sat on the rug facing each other, an undeniable chemistry crackling between them.
Daylight flooded their small chamber and he looked his fill of her, from her soft brown eyes to her mahogany hair, until she blushed and looked down at her skirts, which puddled about her hips as she sat on the floor across from him.
She looked stunning, a mix of innocence and fortitude that made his desire for her uncontrollable. He'd never lost his control over a mere woman before. Had never felt the urge to possess her mind as well as her body. Had she thought of him today as he'd thought of her? Had she come to him out of duty?
Dominic unbuttoned his breeches and reached for her. Shoved her skirts up her thighs. Pulled her toward his kneeling legs.
"I've been thinking about what you showed me last night—" she started.
He kissed her, trying to devour her.
"—all day—" she managed.
Dominic plunged his tongue inside the sweet softness of her mouth, trying to still her tongue with his own.
Again, she managed to pull away and speak. "I should like to try—"
Dominic covered her lips again, holding her with one arm while his hand quested with the other. He quickly found her hot opening and groaned with relief. Wet. Ready for him. Physically, at least, she wanted him, and he should not have felt so grateful. With his elven beauty he'd yet to find a woman who could resist him. And yet that didn't seem quite enough. Dominic wanted more from her, wanted her spirit as much as he needed her body… and cursed himself for the mere thought. He could not have such a void inside of him that needed filling. He would not.
He grabbed her bare bottom with both hands and pulled her onto his lap. A bit higher and the tip of his shaft met her soft flesh. He groaned.
Cassandra spoke no more. She clutched his shoulders and pulled herself closer to him, fully encasing him within her. His fingers tightened on her buttocks, and he rocked her back and forth on his lap, the pressure of her weight on him pulling him deeper inside her than he'd ever dared. She threw her head back, the velvet skin of her throat bared to him. Dominic buried his mouth in that softness as he set a rhythm that had her panting his name.
He sucked at the skin of her neck, trying to smother his own groan of release as his body exploded. He was just as unsuccessful as Cassandra as her own climax quickly broke.
His foolish attempt at denying himself the day before had only made his want of her even stronger. Dominic didn't even try to suppress his groans when he took her the second time that night. And late into the morning, the third. And when he stepped out of the tent, he knew he'd made a mistake.
Aggie studied him with shrewd eyes. He had never made such sounds of pleasure with her. His officers quickly hid their grins but the nobles felt no such compunction, jabbing each other with their elbows and snickering behind their hands. He could imagine their gossip—a woman had finally snared the elven bastard. Could he be more human than elven after all?
For the entire day a trickle of worry kept him even farther away from Lady Cassandra than usual. But he noticed a few of the male nobles rode alongside her, trying to engage her in conversation and curry her favor. Fortunately the women stayed huddled around Lady Agnes, continuing their cold treatment of Cassandra but now occasionally throwing her looks of disgust.
Perhaps he hadn't blundered too badly, then.
Still, Dominic breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the town of Devizes. Despite the lateness of the day the market bustled with activity. It distracted the courtiers and fortunately his wife as well. They passed stalls and tables of every cloth imaginable, draped to show the sheen, arranged to reflect the softness of the weave. He did not stop and did not concern himself with the nobles who chose to linger in the marketplace. Lady Cassandra stayed with his troops.
Dominic knew something had gone wrong the moment he reached the Fire and Water Inn. It should have been filled with the king's advisors and court. Only an old man and a drunk sat at the wooden tables.
General Raikes called for the innkeeper, who emerged from the back room, wiping his hands nervously on a cloth, a tremor in the jowls of his cheeks.
"Where is he?"
The innkeeper bowed his head. "I know not, my lord. His rooms have been prepared, I assure you."
Dominic waved a hand dismissively. "There must be rumors. There are always rumors. What have you heard?"
The portly man glanced up, his eyes flitting nervously from Dominic's face to the sword at his side. The pistol in his belt.
"They say…" His voice broke. "Arumph. They say that the king refuses to leave Bath. His court is quite comfortable there and he has no desire to take up residence in London."
Dominic's lip twitched. Surely the king realized he had little choice in the matter. But Imperial Lord Breden obviously supported him, making their victory as difficult as possible or just extending the game. Only the lord of Dewhame knew what that game might be. The elven lords had a unique sense of what relieved their boredom.
Dominic spun. "Mount up," he barked to his troops, heading for the door.
"But my lord," called the innkeeper, "night is falling, and your horses—"
If the man hadn't sounded so genuinely concerned for the beasts, Dominic would have ignored him. The roads to Bath were notorious for their ruts and deep pits, and a horse could easily break a leg traveling on a dark night.
Dominic raised a hand and lit the ceiling of the inn with cold white fire. The drunkard fell off his chair and the old man covered his bald pate with his thin arms. The innkeeper squinted at the brilliance that would light any road the general chose to ride.
"Don't forget whom you are speaking to again."
"No, no, my lord, most assuredly I won't."
But the innkeeper had done him a favor, for the light revealed a small figure huddled in the corner, her brown eyes wide and her lovely hair curling about her cheeks. Dominic couldn't tear his own eyes away from hers.
"Innkeeper," he barked as he neared her. "See that my new bride is well cared for."
"Oh… oh yes, my lord. Of course, my lord."
Lady Cassandra rose, as if fully intending to follow him despite his words. He gave her a cold look that should have frozen her in place. "You will stay here."
She looked confused, as if she couldn't fathom why he would deny her company. "But Sir Ro—the king. Perhaps I can help convince him to come."
"I will do the convincing," snapped Dominic, completely out of patience. "Something is afoot and I will not allow you to be caught up in an elven game. And you will obey me this time." He couldn't afford a drain on his power if he faced a battle in Dewhame but he had to be sure of her safety and held up his palms, surrounding her in a ring of dull gray fire.
Her mouth dropped open quite becomingly; he could just make out her features through the gray flames. She held out her arms and touched the walls of her prison, and then shoved at them. Gray fire wouldn't hurt her but it would remain impenetrable until he snuffed it, which he would not do for several hours. By then his men would be well on the road to Bath and she could not follow.
Dominic gave a grunt of satisfaction and strode out of the inn, mounting his horse in one smooth leap. When darkness fell he lit their way with white fire and they made good time on the road. Halfway to Bath he called a halt, sudden winds buffeting his horse and men.
Ador landed just beyond his magical light, a black gleaming shape in a dark meadow. Mor'ded slid down from his perch and waited for his son to come to him.
Dominic remembered to release the spell of gray fire from around Cassandra, wishing he could have been there to see her face, then quickly dismissed her from his mind as he reached his father. He glanced at Ador and the dragon blinked one red eye at him in acknowledgment.
"Where are you going?" demanded Mor'ded.
The general stiffened. "The king is not in Devizes. It is said that he refuses to leave the comfort of Bath."
"Interesting. So Breden wants to extend the game."
"So it seems."
Mor'ded almost smiled. "I wonder what is on his clever mind. Too bad it can't be anything on a grand scale. He knows better than to interfere directly in the game."
"He can only support the king's folly, nothing more. I will take care of this, Father. Your presence here might be misconstrued." The Imperial Lords rarely consulted with their commanders once a game had begun. It broke their rules of giving the orders and watching the humans try to follow them. For them, that was the most amusing part of the game. But Breden had technically started a new one, so Mor'ded had a right to discover the nature of it and perhaps issue a few new orders.
But it would look better among the elven lords if he allowed his champion to decide what action to take. Mor'ded nodded and returned to his dragonsteed, mounting in one fluid motion.
The horses and his men looked better for the halt and they made good time for the rest of the journey, arriving in Bath with the dawn.
His men narrowed their eyes against the glare of the sun's rays as they rode through the cobbled streets. It always appeared brighter in Bath, indeed, in the entire sovereignty of Dewhame, due to the reflection of the light bouncing off so much water. Small fountains of flowing urns and spouting creatures decorated every doorstep. Larger fountains stood within every square, their spray a loud hiss in the quiet morning, a cold spatter against Dominic's face. The buildings lining the streets had been painted in muted tones of blues and greens, and they all lacked a single straight line, the walls and roofs rounded like the swell of a wave.
But they could not compare to Dewhame Palace, the home of Imperial Lord Breden. As Dominic and his men approached the looming structure, he marveled again that something so seemingly soft could be so impregnable. The walls surrounding the palace had been crafted to resemble ocean waves, one rolling atop the other to create one large barrier. Elven magic made the waves appear to actually flow, but the palace walls themselves really did move with water. It erupted from the top turrets of the palace to cascade down the ridged walls, a translucent shimmer of color in the morning sunlight.
A flood of water drenched Dominic as they passed through the open gate and he didn't get any drier when he reached the waterfall-surrounded courtyard. Water rained down from the palace walls and splattered from the waterfalls and swirled about his horse's hooves. The general's wool coat stuck to his shoulders and back and made him itch. He scowled. Wet wool stank.
And the king didn't want to leave this place?
Dominic's scowl faded a bit though, as a welcoming party splashed forward to meet him. Two liveried footmen held an enormous umbrella shaped like the wings of a seagull over the wigged head of a heavyset gentleman. His bearing struck Dominic as someone of importance, and as he neared, the piercing intelligence in the man's darkish-colored eyes confirmed it.
"Lord Raikes?" the man inquired, his voice raised to a shout to be heard above the waterfalls.
"General Raikes," Dominic replied. He had no aspirations to be a lord. Although he supposed that because of Cassandra his children would have that distinction—He cut off the thought.
"Yes, of course. Well met, General Raikes. Allow me to introduce myself. Sir Robert Walpole, at your service. My most humble apologies, sir, to both you and your men, for having to come an additional distance to fetch your king. But we would be most honored to have your escort to Devizes, and then, of course, on to Firehame Palace."
"Indeed? The king has reconsidered his attachment to Bath?"
Something flickered in those intelligent eyes, but too quickly for Dominic to guess the emotion behind it.
"Not quite, General Raikes. However, I have packed up the court and we await you at the side gate."
"And the king?"
"You will find him in the Royal Bath. Down this street a ways. A large statue of Zeus fronts the building."
The general raised a brow.
"His royal carriage will be waiting for him by the time you… escort him forth."
"I see. It's a pleasure to meet such a sensible man, Sir Robert."
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. I've heard much about the champion's exploits on the battlefield."
Dominic nodded his head brusquely, tired of the polite speech, the hidden implications. He turned his mount and sloshed back through the courtyard into the relatively dry streets, easily finding the large statue of Zeus. His men circled the front of the building, his lieutenant ordering half of them to surround the back exits without having to be told.
Dominic expected Breden's army, or what was left of it, anyway, to appear within moments. His men readied themselves, drawing forth their pistols and frowning, wondering if the shot was still dry. Most of them drew their swords.
Dominic waved off the men who tried to accompany him, entering the building by himself. A mosaic of Zeus decorated the floor, sea monsters and mermaids frolicking about him. Not a single guard stood attention at the door to the baths and with no opposition Dominic strode into a marbletiled room.
A very small old man sat up to his neck in the waters, two women his only companions, one thin and the other heavyset. Dominic didn't waste time with words—he already knew what the situation required. He reached down and pulled the king out of the water, grateful that propriety required a bathing costume. He did not relish having a man's naked buttocks so close to his face.
He set the king on his feet, gave him a respectful bow, and before the old man could protest, slung him over his shoulder.
The king cursed at him in heavily accented English, then switched to his native German. The two women scrambled from the bath and followed, screaming for help throughout the now long walk across the mosaic hall.
Dominic hesitated before he stepped outside, fully expecting to hear the sounds of battle. But only his troops waited for him and as promised, the king's gilded coach. Dominic handed his burden off to Sir Robert, who waited inside. The two ladies quickly followed their monarch and the general slammed the door behind them and nodded at the driver to move.
His troops surrounded the ornately decorated coach as it made its way through the empty streets. The men who had covered the back of the building joined them.
"Nothing?" asked the general.
"No, sir. I don't like it, sir."
Dominic felt the same way, waiting for an ambush as they journeyed back to Devizes. But when that failed to happen it set him to wondering. Why had Breden allowed the king this ridiculous little rebellion if the elven lord didn't wish to engage in a last desperate battle? Perhaps he hadn't expected Dominic himself to fetch his prize, and the Imperial Lord couldn't afford to lose any more men in another battle with the champion. It would take Dewhame another generation of breeding before it built its army back up enough for a decent invasion.
Still, Dominic refused to take any chances, escorting the king's carriage directly back to the inn, not waiting for his court to catch up. His Majesty could wait for the rest of them in Devizes.
It took them twice as long to make the journey back, arriving far after midnight. The innkeeper met him in the doorway, twisting his pudgy hands around a mop cloth, ignoring the arrival of the king and approaching Dominic first.
"She's been taken, my lord," he said without preamble, "along with several of the other ladies."
He didn't need to ask to whom the man referred. He should have kept her imprisoned in gray fire. A deathly calm settled over Dominic. Now he knew Breden's game. Firehame would gain the king, but Breden would deprive them of their champion's new bride.
"Lieutenant," barked the general.
"Aye, sir."
"Get us fresh mounts." Dominic turned to the best tracker in his company. "Captain Wilkes."
"Sir."
"Go with the innkeeper; find their trail."
"Yes, sir!"
Dominic clenched his fists. Cassandra belonged to him. Damn what Mor'ded might say about the matter; he would get her back.
Damn if he would allow Breden this petty victory.
Fire bled from between his fingers and he took a deep breath, dispelling that telltale flame and slowly uncurling his hands. His rage didn't come from caring about the girl. That had nothing at all to do with it.