by Cori Vidae
Vertigren’s eyes shone with something Ember had never seen in a lover, nor in the duke. His eyes held nothing of the lord of the house and land, nothing of the superficial hunger that she had seen when he looked at the other women. Is this just… him?
Release swept away curiosity. A gasp burst from her lips as her control broke. A wave of fatigue swept behind the pleasure. Nothing compared to a day in the forge, but far more than laying with any man ever caused. Her eyes fluttered closed as another wave swept her senses away.
She drifted, half asleep, as Vertigren untangled himself from her. He slipped off the bed and rummaged around on the floor for his clothing. Purpose swept away fatigue. This was her chance! Ember rolled over and grabbed the bag from her pile of skirts. She glanced over her shoulder, but Vertigren was slipping on his boots. He began to hum a tune, the same tune they danced to that first night. Ember slipped the fake out of the bag, then stifled a gasp as the hand touching the fake quickly lost its blue color.
What would happen when Vertigren touched it, and all his protective magic drained away like the color in her hand? Would a knife find his heart? Or an arrow?
You’ll never have to know. Ember switched the mirrors and shoved the real one—and her human-looking hand—under the covers.
“Are you leaving so soon, your grace?”
Duke Vertigren started, then slowly turned. “You’re awake? I thought there was something special about you. You are quite remarkable, you know.”
Ember shrugged, trying not to think about the spreading flesh color on one arm. “I am pleased you think so, your grace.”
Duke Vertigren leaned over and kissed Ember’s forehead. “You are. More so than you realize, Lady Phorenis. My father spoke of those that could endure our kind’s touch, but he spoke of them as hated enemies. One more reason to despise the fool.”
Ember shrugged again. “Perhaps.”
“If only you were not visiting…” Vertigren stepped away with a sigh. “I must go. Duty before pleasure.”
‘Duty,’ he calls it. Ember sighed and lay back. “Then I will rest here.”
Duke Vertigren smiled and stepped to the door. “Remember, my lady. Symbols and reality are two very different things.”
Once the door closed behind him, Ember slipped out of bed and dressed. Her muscles dragged, as though she had swung her hammer for an hour. Her disguise faded completely by the time she donned her dress. The room’s mirror reflected only Ember, not Lady Phorenis.
Strange, Ember thought. I might miss her.
Ember shook her head and slipped out the door. She hurried through the corridors to the door Marta had shown her the night before.
* * *
“Do you have it?”
Ember set down the bar she had been working on. At least he arrived before I had anything in the fire. She put the bar and her tongs in their places on her work bench before facing her employer.
“You failed,” the noble snarled. “Of course you did not get it. You were planning on bedding the cursed half-breed. Had you succeeded, you would not be able to move.”
“So sure?” Ember asked. “‘Half-breed.’ You rarely call him anything else. Why does his parentage disturb you so much? What does it matter?”
“He’s an abomination,” the noble snarled. “You’ve heard about his father. He inherited his sire’s ability to drain the life from his bedmates. And now—”
Revelation struck Ember like a hammer between the eyes. “That’s how he powers the artifact. That’s why transformations are so rare, because none of your people have that kind of power. But he—”
“Feeds on the brainless?” Duke Vertigren stepped into the forge. Ember and her employer jumped and snapped their gazes toward him. “Sorry for interrupting, but it seemed the opportune moment.”
Ember bowed. “How may I serve, your grace?”
“That is yet to be determined, my lady smith.” Duke Vertigren’s smile turned predatory as he faced the foreign noble. “Lord Terrigren. I would say it is good to see you, Cousin, but Mother’s death mark still applies to you, even after her death.”
“Cousin?” Ember’s gaze snapped to the noble. “You’re trying to seize this realm!”
“I am the rightful heir,” Lord Terrigren snarled. “This—this creature—”
“Is doing more for the people here,” Ember growled, “than your kind ever has in the past. He rewards talent, and punishes greed. He’s trying to make your people stronger, you fool.”
“Speaking of talent.” Vertigren held up the fake mirror in a heavily gloved hand. A solitary iron nail thrust toward the center of the frame. Ember cringed at the hasty weld at the base of the nail. “You left before your entry could be judged, lady smith. This was your intent, was it not? Though staying awake after I had fed is also quite the accomplishment.”
“You knew!” Terrigren spun to face Ember. One hand snapped around her wrist and began to squeeze. “You fool! You incompetent, treacherous fool! You couldn’t even—”
Ember struck the upstart lord with her hammer. Just a light blow, in the belly. He doubled over in pain, and she shook off his grip. She grabbed a handful of her nails and quickly drove a nail through each of Terrigren’s boots and hammered them to the floor. Terrigren’s wails trailed off to whimpers until he lapsed into unconsciousness.
Vertigren eyed his cousin with a smile. “Oh, perhaps this was your entry?”
“Were you serious the other day? Would you consider a blacksmith?” Ember asked. She fished the bag with the real mirror out from under the work bench and tossed it to Vertigren. The fake went into the forge. “A journeyman ironworker?”
“Any deserve a seat at the table,” Vertigren replied. He opened the bag and extracted the true mirror. “If I offered, would you desire to continue to work with iron, knowing that the magic of your new birthright would never fully develop? We could always find a proper master to judge your work.”
And he has the money to get a master here. Ember looked at her forge, then to Terrigren. “There is more magic in iron and fire than in your entire menagerie.”
“In that case,” Duke Vertigren raised the mirror, “the supplicant will receive the reward her offering deserves.”
Ember squared her shoulders and faced Duke Vertigren as her future took shape in the empty mirror.
* * *
M. Arbroath is a fantasy and science fiction author from northern California.
Review this Book
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Acknowledgments
Like all creative works, DEMONS, IMPS, AND INCUBI owes a great debt to many for their patience, encouragement, and willingness to consider yet one more question.
First, countless thanks to the incomparable Rhonda Parrish, fellow anthologist and winner of my Spring 2015 Most Awesome Co-Worker award. Thank you for continuing to respond to my emails. I will not forget it.
A round of applause is due to the wickedly talented Elk Grove Writing Group. I don’t know how I managed to fall in with such amazing people, but I’m grateful. I owe you more snickerdoodles than can be repaid, much less consumed.
Lastly, my deepest gratitude to my family, who are past masters at the art of caring for a writer/editor. You know just when to leave meals at the door and quietly back away from the crazy woman at the computer. Words cannot express my love.
About the Anthologist
Laura Harvey is an assistant editor at World Weaver Press and Red Moon Romance. She lives in northern California with her beloved menagerie (cats, dogs, horses, and family members). She attended Linfield College, Claremont School of Theology, and Claremont Graduate University. When she isn’t wordsmithing for others, she does some scribbling of her own.
More Great Romance
The Devil in Midwinter
New Adult Paranormal Romance
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andsome stranger, a terrifying monster, a boy who burns and burns…
Mattawa, Washington, is usually a sleepy orchard town come December, until a murder, sightings of a fantastic beast, and the arrival of a handsome new vintner in town kindle twenty-year-old reporter Esme Ulloa’s curiosity—and maybe her passion as well. But the more she untangles the mystery, the more the world Esme knows unspools, until she finds herself navigating a place she thought existed only in storybooks, where dreams come alive, monsters walk the earth and magic is real. When tragedy strikes close to home, Esme finds she must strike back, matching wits with an ancient demon in a deadly game, where everything she values stands to be lost, including the love of her life.
A Winter’s Enchantment
Three novellas of winter magic and loves lost and regained.
Experience the magic of the season.
Elise Forier Edie, Amalia Dillin, Kristina Wojatszek
Copyright Extension
“Circles Within Circles” Copyright © 2015 by Cori Vidae.
“Measures of Greed” Copyright © 2015 by Alexa Piper.
“Pomegranate Cupcake” Copyright © 2015 by Erzabet Bishop.
“Burning Edge of Dawn” Copyright © 2015 by Mark Greenmill.
“Dromtsiirin at the Tiki Lounge” Copyright © 2015 by Cary Vandever.
“Soul Mates” Copyright © 2015 by J. C. G. Goelz.
“Lilin and Irdo: Promettre” Copyright © 2015 by Jeffrey A. Forker.
“Iron and Embers” Copyright © 2015 by Andrew Wilson.
Table of Contents
Dark, powerful, forbidden
Demons, Imps, and Incubi
Copyright Notice
Contents
Introduction
Circles Within Circles
Measures of Greed
Pomegranate Cupcake
The Burning Edge of Dawn
Dromtsiirin at the Tiki Lounge
Soul Mates
Lilin and Irdo: Promettre
Iron and Embers
Review this Book
Acknowledgments
About the Anthologist
More Great Romance
Copyright Extension
