Eight
Cass woke the next morning still in her golden gown of the night before. A haze of silver powder covered her pillow and memories came rushing back. She pulled open the curtains surrounding the bed, not surprised to find herself alone. Of course he had not returned.
She rang for Gwendolyn and May, and they helped her perform her toilette while her thoughts spun with the events of the evening. It had been so grand to see Thomas again, looking so handsome in the latest mode of dress. Faith, he played the part of a mindless coxcomb even better than he'd played a priest.
"How about this one, my ladyship?" asked Gwen, holding out a fine wool mantua.
Cass sighed. She might as well give up on insisting that Gwendolyn choose the plainer pieces in her wardrobe. The girl had such a flair for the dramatic. And last night… yes, the general had certainly appreciated the way she'd looked. His face, as usual, hadn't revealed a thing, but she'd felt him staring at her far too long.
"It's not quite appropriate for a walk on the grounds."
Gwen's face fell.
"But I suppose if you pin up the train, it shall suffice."
The girl nodded with enthusiasm and chose a soft leather girdle tooled with fanciful flying horses to belt the burgundy gown. She dithered over the choice of stays for they would show through the open bodice, but finally settled on an embroidered stomacher to cover it, heavily inlaid with garnet stones.
May had almost finished brushing the powder from her hair, and Cass closed her eyes at the heavenly feel of the older girl's gentle strokes. How would she find her husband today? She didn't know what to expect after his show of jealousy last eve. Her eyes flew open and stared at her reflection in the dressing mirror. Had he indeed been jealous? He'd certainly acted like it, and if she'd had any doubts, their whispered argument proved it. And when she'd asked him about his dog his voice had shaken with emotion. Only a man with a human heart could care for his pet the way Dominic had. But why had he left her bed and not returned? He had not finished telling her about Mongrel. How could she gain his trust when his actions were always so at odds with his feelings?
For she felt convinced that despite his elven blood, he had feelings just like any other human. He'd just become exceptionally skilled at hiding them. She could understand why, when he had such a horrid father.
May began to weave her hair, an intricate twining that Cass's eyes couldn't follow. Her new servants would never spy on her and if they did happen to overhear something, she did not doubt their loyalty. She wondered who would be interested in spying on the general. And then she flushed. Little did he know he harbored a spy in his very bed.
May positioned a pinner on her head with long lace lappets, and Gwen helped her into her mantua, the burgundy wool so finely combed it felt like velvet against her skin. The girdle unbuckled in front, and it made Cassandra feel much more confident as she left her apartments. The belt would make a fine garrote.
She intended to go for a walk about the grounds to consider her own feelings for her husband. Cass rejoiced that Dominic had shown jealousy over Thomas, for her goal had been to make her husband regard her enough to trust her. But did his possessiveness truly mean he cared for her?
For she cared for him. Despite knowing how foolish it would be, she might even have fallen in love with him. General Dominic Raikes had allowed her to glimpse his true heart once too often. And Cass hadn't been prepared for the beauty of it.
Consumed by her thoughts, still unfamiliar with the sprawling palace, Lady Cassandra soon managed to get lost.
A long hallway stretched before her, medieval armor flanking the walls as far as she could see, a glow of green fire within every faceplate, emanating through the links in the chain mail. Cass took a step into the hall and suddenly the armor came to attention, spears lifting and swords saluting. Her heart flew up into her throat and she froze.
A profound sense of relief swept through her at the sound of voices behind her. She whirled and went back the way she'd come, slowing as a couple approached her.
"Lady Cassandra," said Lady Verney. "How good to see you again." She nodded at her companion. "Have you met Sir Robert Walpole?"
The heavy man bowed his wigged head. "We haven't had the pleasure, my lady. But having met her husband, I have been looking forward to it." He looked quite somber in his gray coat next to Sophia's peacock-colored gown.
Cassandra dipped a quick curtsy, her eyes on the leader of the Rebellion. Had she heard something within his words? Her heart still fluttered with excitement. "I'm honored to make your acquaintance, sir. I got lost again, you see."
Lady Verney raised her elegant brows. "There are some rooms it's not wise to enter, Cassandra. You must allow me to show you a map of the palace. If I had known your servants failed to give you such instruction…"
Cass flushed, wondering if Sophia was truly unaware that she had hired slaves and not some of the castle staff.
"Capital idea," agreed Sir Robert. "Although I must say, we might not have had the pleasure of crossing paths today so fortuitously. But now that we have you must join us for tea, my dear."
He held out his arm and Cass took it without hesitation. She hadn't thought she'd have a chance to talk with him this soon. Perhaps they could find a moment to speak in private.
Her hopes were dashed as they entered a cozy parlor, nearly filled to bursting with the king's court. Some worked on their embroidery near the windows, taking advantage of the sunlight and the constant glow from the yellow fire outside the walls. Several tea trays lay scattered about the room, chairs clustered around them. The parlor lacked any magical enhancements and Cass wondered if that's why the court had chosen this small space.
Sophia and Sir Robert led her to an empty table, but it soon filled up with gentlemen and ladies. Most of them sent her glances of curiosity but Cassandra made herself as small as possible and managed to fade a bit into the background.
"The other court," commented a gentleman with a striped red coat, "is woefully in need of our guidance. Did you see what they wore to the ball last night?"
Another gentleman took a pinch of snuff. "I daresay they haven't the slightest idea that solid colors are not the mode. But don't worry; we'll set them to rights."
Lady Verney stiffened in her chair, teacup poised near her thin lips. "Although solids are not the rage, I heard that King George complimented General Raikes on the cut of his suit."
"That bastard could wear a gunnysack and manage to carry it off," replied the gentleman, then glanced at Cass and flushed. "Begging your pardon, my lady. But it's what they all call him."
Cass shrugged as if unperturbed but caught the sharp look from Sir Robert. As the conversation continued in a similar vein, mind-numbing in its inanity, she watched the leader of the Rebellion as he watched the others in the room. He listened more than he spoke, and at one point he got up and left, and Cassandra would have followed him but decided it would look odd. Instead she waited, hoping he would return and that the room might have cleared by then. But the nobles appeared to be engrossed in their conversations, speculating if black would be in and how their wigs would look with braids added to them.
She grinned as she imagined what Dominic would say about being an inspiration for fashion.
She'd just decided to leave when Sir Robert returned, a fold of paper in his hand. "Please accept this map, Lady Cassandra. It would be wise for you to know your whereabouts." This time she felt certain of the hidden meaning in his words.
"Oh," gasped Sophia, "it slipped my mind. I do have one in my room and will be happy to fetch it—"
"You do not need to trouble yourself," protested Sir Robert. "I have already memorized mine, so it's no longer needed."
Sophia appeared taken aback by this. "Good heavens, there are so many twists and turns I can't imagine ever knowing them all."
Sir Robert shrugged. "I've been trained to such tasks, your ladyship. It's not as difficult as it sounds."
His intense eyes stayed focused on Cass and she nodded, accepting the map from his hand. She would memorize it at once. She rose. "If you will excuse me, I think I shall take a turn about the grounds."
Lady Verney squinted up at her. "I could use a bit of fresh air myself. Sir Robert?"
A commotion at the door made them all turn to see the king enter the small parlor. Sir Robert inclined his head regretfully. "Alas, but you'll have to excuse me. Duty calls."
Cassandra's heart sank. She had so hoped to speak with Sir Robert to see if he could help her puzzle out the mystery of her husband. Lady Verney rose and took Cass's arm and led her from the room, down several hallways and through some interesting formal rooms, until they reached a pair of doors that opened onto a garden.
Both she and Sophia took in deep breaths of the fresh air, and Cass reminded herself she should not look for help from anyone. Thomas had warned her she was on her own and if Sir Robert truly wished to speak to her he would find a way to do so.
Lady Verney giggled. "I think I owe you an apology. They are quite… set in their ways, are they not?"
Cassandra smiled. "It's beyond me how they can spend so much time discussing fashion. But I suppose that's all they're accustomed to doing."
"Indeed." Sophia frowned, seemingly as saddened by that fact as Cass. They walked along a white gravel path, the stones sparkling in the sunlight. A profusion of late-blooming flowers surrounded them, their scents combining into a heady perfume. Ahead of them flowed a fountain of yellow fire, the flames arcing out from a center column and spilling into the surrounding bowl.
"I had hoped," continued Sophia, "that the king's court would be more welcoming toward you than Mor'ded's. Lady Agnes hasn't had the opportunity to influence them as yet."
Cassandra stared up at her tall friend. She hadn't realized… well, it had been very kind of her. But how could she explain it didn't quite matter? "Thank you, Sophia. They were much more welcoming."
Her friend smiled a bit. "I suppose it will always be hard for you, being married to the champion and all."
They had reached the fountain and Cass leaned forward, allowing the yellow fire to wash over her hands, trickle through her fingers. "Like the fire on the palace walls; it's gently warm and yet doesn't burn. I think it's been harder for me to adjust to the wealth of magic."
"You'll get used to that. When I first arrived, I dreamed of fire every night and thought I'd wither from the heat. I should probably freeze if I lived anywhere else now."
Lady Cassandra looked up at the flaming walls of the palace and nodded. "I suppose one can get used to anything."
They walked the grounds for a time, idly talking. Cass occasionally brought up a question about the elven lord, but although Sophia had been surrounded by fire magic for many years, she knew little about the Imperial Lord himself. It seemed Dominic knew more about Mor'ded than anyone else at court.
And Cassandra couldn't be sure of ever getting her husband to trust her enough to share that knowledge.
"I'm sorry, Lady Cassandra. I must return to the palace for a fitting. Will you accompany me?"
They stood amid a hedge of bushes cut into swirling cones. Cass couldn't quite bring herself to return to the palace yet. "Do not worry, Lady Verney. I have the map Sir Robert gave me. I shall find my way back to the palace without getting lost."
Sophia patted her hand. "That's good, then. But remember; do not enter the shaded areas. They are places of strange magics." She frowned at Cass. "Perhaps I should show you."
Cassandra sighed. She'd never had a friend before to worry about her and couldn't decide whether she liked it or not. She removed the folded map from her skirt and opened it. A small sliver of paper fell from inside onto the clipped lawn, and she glanced quickly at Sophia to see if she had noticed. But the other woman had pulled the watch on her neck chain up to her face to squint at the numbers. Cass placed her foot over the paper and studied the map.
Nearly two-thirds of the palace interior and a third of the outside grounds had been shaded with wavy lines.
Lady Verney pointed at them. "These are the places to avoid. Now, this is where we are, see? There are three palace layouts, to show you each floor, and these are the stairs that will take you to each. Are you sure you can devise the sense of it?"
Cassandra had studied maps much more complicated than this one. "I shall manage, Lady Verney, never fear."
The taller woman took a step down the path. "I really must go. But perhaps next time you should take one of your servants with you for guidance. And for propriety's sake, of course."
"Of course."
Cass watched her gather up her peacock-colored skirts and hurry down the path. The moment she rounded a corner, Cassandra removed her foot from the paper and picked it up, reading it quickly before stuffing it into her mouth and chewing with a grimace. Feeling a bit like a goose, but unable to think of a ladylike way to dispose of it, she swallowed with a gulp. And then pondered Sir Robert's hastily scrawled note.
Your husband may be sympathetic to our cause. He hates his father.
Could it be possible? Could Dominic be capable of such a strong emotion? Apparently Sir Robert had noticed the undercurrents between Dominic and his father and come to that startling conclusion. She didn't know how he could be sure when she hadn't been able to understand their relationship herself. The elven did not act by human standards. And did Sir Robert really think that would be enough to sway Dominic to their cause? Just because the general held no love for his father didn't mean he would aid the Rebellion in having Mor'ded deposed. And what did Sir Robert expect her to do with the information?
Cass had the sinking feeling he was leaving it up to her to decide. But it had to be obvious to Sir Robert that although Dominic viewed her as his possession, he held no deep love for her. To approach Dominic with the truth about her marriage might very likely get her killed.
Or set her free. Their secrets from each other held them apart more than anything else. Was this the way to a true relationship between them? Her husband wanted her; she could be sure of that given his jealous reaction the other night. But would it be enough to protect her? She didn't know. And Thomas had told her to put her task before aiding Sir Robert.
Truth be told, she wanted to be honest with Dominic. She wanted to know if her feelings could ever be returned.
Cassandra folded the map, picked up her skirts, and headed back to the palace, determined to find her husband.
But it appeared he had left the palace, along with his father, and no one knew when they might return or where they might be. Rumor had it that Mor'ded had instigated a search for a family who refused to bring their child to the upcoming trials, but Dominic's absence remained a mystery. Cass retired early, but her husband did not return to their apartments that night. By the following morning, Cass had memorized the map Sir Robert had given her. And remembered Gwen's unique magical gift.
"Gwendolyn," she asked while sliding her arm into the sleeve of her day dress, "do you know where General Raikes has gotten himself off to?"
"Oh, my lady, I thought ye'd never ask! Ye've been moping about the apartments so."
Cass tried not to flush. "Can you use your gift to find him?"
"Of course," said Gwen, closing her eyes. "He's that way." And she pointed at the north wall of their apartments.
Cassandra frowned then picked up the map from where she'd placed it on the marble-topped table and opened it up. "Can you locate him using this?"
"La, I've never tried such a thing before, my lady." But the girl eagerly bent her blonde head over the paper and traced a finger across the surface of it, slowly coming to a stop outside the palace, on the farthest edge of the grounds. The area around her fingernail showed a miniature forest, with a square box drawn inside and shaded to indicate dangerous magic.
"What is that place?" breathed May, looking over their shoulders.
"I think"—Gwen squinted her hazel eyes at Cass—"he's in the elven garden. They say the Imperial Lord made it as a reminder of his homeland, but nobody's ever been brave enough to go near it, my lady, 'cept the champion. Even the Imperial Lord don't go there anymore. Mayhap ye should wait until he returns home."
Cass squared her shoulders. "Nonsense. I shall be perfectly fine."
The two girls exchanged worried looks.
"And I don't want either of you telling anyone else where I've gone, do you understand?"
Both girls quickly nodded, unable to deny their mistress a thing. Cassandra blessed the impulse she'd had to rescue the girls from the kitchens. She'd never had such loyal servants.
May and Gwen reluctantly announced their satisfaction with her appearance, and she bid them farewell, telling them she wouldn't return until evening. They both offered to go with her and Cass was sorely tempted. But she wanted to be alone with Dominic, so she refused them and gathered her courage as she made her way through the palace.
Lady Verney beckoned to her with a wave of her gloved hand as Cass passed the king's withdrawing room, but she pretended not to see. Although Sophia had tried her best to champion Cassandra, the king's court had quickly picked up the mannerisms of Mor'ded's and started to avoid her. Although they did so with pity on their faces instead of disdain. Cass couldn't be sure which felt worse.
But it did give her the freedom to roam the palace grounds, for no one would think to ask about her.
When Cassandra stepped out onto the manicured grass, she wished she had thought to bring a shawl, for the sun hid behind the clouds and the air felt chill. But she wore a wool gown with elbow-length sleeves and a flannel petticoat, and her wide hoops blocked most of the wind. Indeed, as she made her way across the lawn to the wooded area in back of the palace, the force of the gale against her skirts threatened to bowl her over. Gwen had insisted she adopt the new fan hoops, which extended so far out from her hips that she could rest her elbows upon them.
She hurried into the copse of trees, gasping as she caught her breath, the sturdy trunks protecting her from the increasing force of the wind. A storm brewed; she could smell it but she refused to turn back.
Lady Cassandra ventured deeper into the woods, her skirts more than a nuisance as they caught on every branch and twig. It seemed unnaturally silent under the canopy, a stillness about the woods that made her skin crawl. Something rustled in the brush, and a black shape skittered off into the greenery.
Cass eased off her girdle, grateful for the heavy buckle. If some animal threatened her it would make an adequate weapon. She stepped lightly now, avoiding the snap of twig or leaf, wary of breaking the silence of these woods. She followed a path for a time and then checked the map in her head again. Yes, she must leave this trail and strike out northeast.
She had a good sense of direction, but even then, when she finally clawed her way through some dense undergrowth to confront a wall of solid greenery, she couldn't be sure she'd found the elven garden.
Until she heard the singing.
Not singing, really, more of a chiming, whistling sound. What in heaven could create such a haunting melody? Or more accurately, what in that fabled land of Elfhame?
Lady Cassandra studied the wall of green, looking for some way to get inside. The leaves of the plants covering the wall—if indeed a wall lay behind them as she supposed—shivered as she took a step closer to the barrier. Surely the wind had caused that movement… but still Cass backed away suspiciously. Perhaps some animal hid within the undergrowth. She stepped forward and swung her belt at the vines, hoping to scare away anything lurking behind them, and glimpsed red stone beneath the green. The same brilliant red stone that comprised the walls of Firehame Palace.
And yet she'd not seen or smelled a hint of the magical fire that permeated the palace and grounds. Perhaps the shading on the map was just used as a deterrent to visitors. Or so she prayed.
Cass smiled grimly as she buckled her girdle back around her waist. Now she just needed to find the gate. But after several hours of walking the length of the wall, she could not find an entrance. The melody within the private garden seemed to be calling to her more urgently, and Cassandra decided a more direct approach was required. She kicked off her shoes, untied her hoops and stepped out of them, and used her belt to hitch up her skirts. She would use the vines to climb the wall.
Not for a moment did she consider giving up. She would not go back to her apartments and sit around like a goose and wait for her courage to fail her. She feared she would change her mind and the opportunity would be lost forever.
Besides, she had climbed trees taller than this at her father's estate. She had enough elven blood to make her lithe and nimble, and her gift of dance kept her agile enough to scale a simple wall.
She had not counted on the capriciousness of the vines.
They shivered again when she clasped the sturdy trunk, and this time she felt certain the movement had nothing to do with the wind, for even though the breeze penetrated the clear area around the wall, it barely had enough force to stir her hair against her cheeks. She carefully placed a foot on a vine, and then another. They looked strong enough to hold her weight but as soon as she began to climb they bent beneath her, dropping her back to the ground.
"You will not stop me," she muttered as if the plants had some sort of intelligence. She huffed at her own foolishness and pushed through the greenery until she found the blocks of the wall. Like the castle, they weren't entirely smooth, and she fit her fingers within the cracks between them and pulled herself up. Somehow her feet got tangled up in a web of interlaced vines and she fell backward, landing in a heap of dead leaves and petticoats.
She tried again and the same thing happened.
Cassandra got to her feet, eyed the trunk of the vine, and began to tear away the small tendrils that sprouted from it, determined to prevent her feet from getting tangled up again. The storm intensified; she could feel the gale finally penetrate the woods behind her, and the vine shuddered and creaked from the force of it.
She tossed away the ripped greenery and reached for more when she felt a pressure about her waist. She glanced down to discover that a vine had wrapped itself around her. Indeed, as she watched, another snaked around her feet, and she tried to jump to avoid it, but the one about her waist held her firmly in place.
Another vine curled around her left arm and Cass tried to tear it off, a wave of horrified panic overwhelming her. She screamed, scrabbling at the leafy plant with her fingers while simultaneously trying to twist her body from the hold of the one about her waist. She screamed again while even more vines reached out to trap her, until one fleshy tuber managed to wrap itself around her head and over her mouth, effectively smothering her cries and pressing against her nose until she couldn't breathe.
Lady Cassandra continued to struggle until her vision faded to black.