Cursed by Fire: The Immortal Brothers

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “You must change your clothing first, your most honorable.”

  That made Luzien hesitate. “Why?” he asked.

  “Because I am afraid that to take you onto the walls in such conspicuously wealthy clothing will be like painting a target on you.”

  “The Redoe are not known for their archers,” Grannish said dryly. “They do not even wear shoes.”

  “Still, I would rather not take the chance.”

  “Very well. I will go change. You will both wait here for me.”

  Grand Luzien walked away and left the two men alone. Grannish was fuming and Dethan could feel it radiating off him in furious waves of energy, even though he masked it well in outer appearance. Dethan leaned back against a near wall, crossing his arms over his chest, and began to whistle indolently, as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. As if the man standing across from him wasn’t plotting the best way to kill him. And, as Dethan had known it would, Grannish’s control eventually slipped.

  “You will not have her,” he hissed at Dethan. “I see your game. You think to have it all. You think you can walk into this city and be this close to being grand in only a day’s time! Well, I have been working toward this for most of my adult life, and I promise you I will not let it go easily, nor will I let it go to some filthy mud farmer. Were you my equal I might find a reason to respect you as competition, but you are not!”

  Dethan knew it was all Grannish could do to keep from spitting at Dethan’s feet.

  “The problem with that statement,” Dethan said slowly, “is that one would have to presume there is anyone out there you would deem to be your equal. But there is not, is there?”

  “No, there isn’t,” Grannish spat.

  “Not even the grand?” Dethan asked.

  That made Grannish hesitate, and he looked at Dethan suspiciously.

  “You think you are so clever,” the jenden said. “You think this will be so easy for you to accomplish. The grand has been my puppet for years. He would not be able to function or govern without me. He knows that. He depends on me and he knows he would be completely exposed without me.”

  “I do not doubt it. That makes him weak. Where I come from, a weak ruler is a ruler who needs to be deposed. I conquer cities ruled by weak men, and they deserve to be conquered.”

  “You speak words of treason! Ha! The truth of your goals is in your own words! You seek to depose the grand!”

  “I seek to put the strongest ruler at the helm of this city. The grand might yet redeem himself if he is willing to open his eyes and begin ruling for himself, rather than relying entirely on another to do the hard work. But look at it this way, Grannish,” Dethan said with a smile. “You will finally be able to relax. You will not have so many duties and responsibilities. It must be so very taxing on you.”

  “Shut up,” Grannish said with a growl, his hand gripping at his sword again. “You know nothing of my duties. You know nothing of what it takes to rule a city such as this!”

  “Oh now, there you are wrong,” Dethan said, again that quiet strength in his softly spoken words. “I know what it takes to run a city such as this … and several more besides.” Again, that smile. “But if you play nice, perhaps there will be a few things for you to do when all is said and done. After all, you will still be a noble. You still have your wealth. And if that is not enough, there are many other cities out there with many more opportunities for you to advance yourself.”

  “This is my city,” Grannish hissed. “And I will see you dead before I will hand it over to you willingly!”

  “Good. Then we understand each other,” Dethan said. He rested his head back against the wall and once again began to whistle softly.

  “Can you see the long rows of canvas there and there, your most honorable?” Dethan said, pointing out the canvas.

  “They are tents,” Grannish scoffed.

  “They are too long and too narrow to be tents. But they are enough to shield the city from seeing what is being done beyond them. But if you walk twenty paces farther down the wall, you will be able to see mounds of dirt hidden behind the canvas. The Redoe are tunneling beneath the ground, heading for your walls. When they get to them, they will simply dig beneath them until the weight of the wall causes it to collapse. Once the wall is breached, it will be impossible to keep out the raiding parties. This wall is the only thing protecting you right now. Look at the Redoe’s numbers. With no standing army and a weak city guard, the Redoe will have this city in less than a day after the walls fall.”

  “By the gods,” the grand whispered, all the color leaching out of his face. “Grannish! Why didn’t you know about this?”

  “I … I depend on General Firru to tell me these things!” Grannish sputtered.

  “And yet he has not. I seem to recall you telling me Firru was the best man for the job! You pushed quite hard for it as I recall.” Luzien cleared his throat and looked at Dethan. “Very well. I’ll meet your terms. You defeat the Redoe and banish them for good from my doors, and you shall have my daughter as payment.”

  “I will not let you down, your most honorable. I have been watching the Redoe and I can see where they are weak. It seems to me they are only being so bold because no one has forced them to behave for many years. But that will change now. However, I do need to have gold in order to gird your new army”—Grannish scoffed at that—“and it seems your coin handler is under the impression that I am not to be trusted with large sums of coin. Now, I realize you do not yet know me well, so I do not ask the coin be put in my hand. However, can we not work with the smithies and builders and such in a way in which the coin handler can pay them directly?”

  “Of course! I have already given orders that you are not to be curtailed. I do not understand what the problem is.”

  “Your most honorable,” Grannish said, “I told the coin handler to have a care for your coin. I simply did not wish to see you robbed by a man we knew nothing about!”

  “Well, you can see now that he is what he says he is,” the grand snapped. “Give him his gold, give him his head, and let us be free of this Redoe pestilence for good and all!”

  The grand shoved the telescope he’d been using to look at the Redoe into Grannish’s chest, then stormed past him and down the tower steps that led to the top of the city wall.

  “It seems to me,” Dethan said to Grannish, “that you might be more grateful. After all, it is your city I am saving.”

  Grannish merely hissed at him and stormed off in his grand’s wake. Dethan watched him go for a minute. Tonkin stepped up to him.

  “He’s rightly furious just about now, I’m thinking,” Tonkin said with a low chuckle.

  “Aye, that he is,” Dethan said. But he was not amused. He was looking at the darkening sky. “Come, let’s attend the eventide meal. Then I have somewhere to be.”

  “Sor … my lord, where is it that you go at night? And why was the grandina in your bedchamber last night?”

  Dethan turned to Tonkin, one dark brow lifting higher than the other. “So curious all of a sudden?”

  “Well … I didn’t mean …” Tonkin stammered. “I mean your business is your business, and I’ll shut up and not ask you again, my lord.”

  “No, it’s all right, Tonkin. You can ask anything you wish. But I might not answer.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I require your loyalty, Tonkin,” Dethan pressed on him. “The grandina would be in a great deal of danger if it was known she came to my chambers at night. I will not have her harmed, and if anything you do causes her to be harmed, I promise you I will find out about it and I will seek retribution for it. Am I making myself entirely clear here?”

  Tonkin swallowed noisily and nodded. “You can trust me, sor.”

  “We will discover that as we go, I suppose. You need only know to keep quiet … no matter what you see. Now come. Dinner awaits.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  “You little slut!”
/>   Grannish backhanded her with complete violence, throwing all his weight into the strike. Selinda flew back, her body slamming into her dressing vanity. As much as she had come to expect the worst of Grannish, she had not been expecting this. Grannish had laid hands on her before, but always in small, concealable ways. Ways that she couldn’t point to in order to show her father his true nature. But this time … She could feel the instant swelling over her eye, her eyes smarting and her nose stinging. Before she could gather herself back onto her feet he was on her again, punching her dead in the face once more.

  He was a storm of rage. She could feel it vibrating off him. And even though his beating was terrible, she could tell he was holding back. She fought him when he went to grab her by the front of her dress, trying to shove him off her, but he was far too strong. Grannish was not some simpering fop of a statesman. No, he was in his physical prime, strong from his horsemanship and swordsmanship and gods knew what else he did to keep himself fit.

  He lifted his fist as if to strike her again, his body bowstring-taut and shaking as he in turn shook her. If this was him curtailing his rage, she thought fearfully, then gods help her if he ever really let loose on her or anyone else. Dethan included.

  “What have you done?” Grannish demanded of her. “I know you’ve done something to make him want you. What is it? Surely it isn’t the way you’ve been going about unveiled, displaying this hideousness to all and sundry! Have you spread these flaccid thighs for him?”

  His fist changed direction so he could shove his hand up her skirts. She fought him, trying to push and kick him away as she felt his touch on her inner thighs.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? Even now his seed is festering inside you, isn’t it?”

  “No! I am innocent!” It was the only thing that came to her mind in her blind panic.

  “Don’t you lie to me, whore!” he spat in her face. “Here, then, let me be the judge of how innocent you are. If you are, then we’ll make it my seed inside you. If I can’t be grand through you, then my son can be! He might be illegitimate, but he will still be the son of the grandina!”

  “No! I swear to you, no! I’ve done nothing!” She kicked at him, smacking him, fighting him any way she could. Then she connected somewhere it counted because he fell back with a grunt. He crumpled to the floor, and as she gasped for breath and straightened up, she saw him nursing a hand between his legs. Shaking, she stood up tall over him, sniffling and wiping her hand under her nose. It came away streaked in blood.

  She wanted to kick him again, but she was not stupid. She knew he would recover eventually, and then he would make her pay. Somehow, in some way that was most important to her, he would make her pay.

  “Hanit!” she cried out.

  “Yes, my lady. What is it?” Hanit said, bustling into the room. The woman froze in place halfway across the room from Selinda when she finally took in what she was seeing and it registered on her. “Here now, what’s this?” she demanded to know. And in true Hanit style, she threw herself between Selinda and Grannish. “How dare you lay hands on my mistress!” she blustered.

  “Oh, do shut up,” Grannish seethed as he staggered to his feet. “This isn’t over,” he promised Selinda. But his progress toward the door told her that it was over. For now. “You’ll pay for this. He can’t protect you, and you know I will make you pay.”

  “Yes,” Selinda said wearily. “I know. I know you believe that is true. But you also know things are different now. He has made things different. I have done nothing to deserve it, but I am under his protection now. My father may not listen to me, but what do you think Dethan will do when I come to him looking like this?” She indicated her battered face.

  Grannish changed direction and came back toward her with all speed, growling deep in his throat with rage. Hanit, bless her brave heart, threw herself in front of Selinda, using her body as a shield to protect her. It kept Grannish at a small distance, but not very much of one.

  “You will remain in your rooms tonight and tomorrow … until you can hide your face under your whore’s paint. If you show your face to him or your father before then, I will kill your brother. Do you understand me?”

  Fear clutched at Selinda’s heart. No. Not fear. Terror. For she knew he would think nothing of carrying through on his threat.

  “I understand,” she whispered.

  “Good. Now, I have to figure out how to get your new champion to fail at his attempt to quash the Redoe invasion. As disgusting to me as it is, your hand in marriage is the one thing I have striven for these past years and I will not be denied it! You had better hope he does not succeed, because the very instant I believe I have lost you to him, I will destroy you and your entire family! And do not think for a moment that I will not do it!”

  Selinda swallowed. “I have every faith that you will make good on your threats,” she said quietly.

  “Good. Then we understand each other. Do not let me catch you encouraging him, Selinda. And gods help you if I catch you in his bed. And you know I will know. I know everything that goes on in this castle. Nothing escapes me.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  Dethan waited a full hour in his chambers before coming to the conclusion that Selinda was not coming. He was surprised when he found himself disappointed with her. She had shown reluctance earlier, but he had thought he had made his wishes clear to her. He had thought she wanted to come just as much as he wanted her to be there. Something had passed between them …

  Dethan shrugged that off. There was no space for fanciful notions. This was a business arrangement, not an emotional one. One had value; the other did not.

  So why did he feel his disappointment so strongly? It was almost as though it were a physical pang.

  Nonsense, he told himself harshly. He was a warlord, not some simpering young lad with sonnets and notions of love running loose in his head. No, he was stronger and harder than that. And anyway, he didn’t know her well enough to even consider …

  But he had thought her to be a woman of her word. She didn’t have much in the way of power, but she held dominion over her personal honor and actions. To break a promise and then not even send word of the why of it, it seemed beneath her somehow.

  No sooner had he had the thought than there was a light scratching at his door. He went to it.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Hanit, Sor Dethan.”

  He opened the door for her and she scuttled inside. He shut the door behind her.

  “Please forgive me, I meant to come sooner,” Hanit said in a fast, heated whisper. “But Grannish has put a boy in the hall to watch the comings and goings to your rooms.”

  “Then how did you …?”

  “Oh,” she said, grinning like a contented cat, “well, young Bibby, as is his name, has a weak spot for the kitchen wenches. One in particular. A good girl who don’t mind doing me a favor.”

  “Clever Hanit,” Dethan said with a chuckle. “Grannish thinks he has total dominion over all things, but he underestimates you … and your mistress. And about your mistress. I assume you are here to tell me she won’t be making it?”

  “Well … no, she won’t,” Hanit said. “But believe me when I say she is sorry for it.”

  “What’s wrong? Why won’t she come? Why did she not come to dinner?”

  Here Hanit hesitated. It was clear she wanted to say more than what she did. “She’s not feeling well.”

  “She seemed fine earlier,” he said, narrowing his eyes on her.

  “And she was fine … but this came on her suddenly. A headache. She gets these fiercely bad headaches. The mem says it’s because she has magic inside her, but if you ask me I think she’s just trying to make my mistress feel better.”

  “Magic is very powerful and not something to be taken lightly. It is a blessing from the gods. Laying false claim to it risks angering the gods,” Dethan said with a frown.

  “Which is exactly what I said,” Hanit said with a sn
ort of air through her nose.

  “I will speak with her about it on the morrow,” he said.

  “Well,” Hanit hedged, “these headaches … They can last for days sometimes. Ask anyone. They have put my mistress to bed quite a bit since she was in her first blush.”

  “Then maybe there is something to what the mem says after all,” Dethan mused. “It is said that a magess is born at her first blush. As soon as she bleeds the first time.”

  “Perhaps,” Hanit said. “But I’ll not be hanging my hat on the notion.”

  “Very well. Send me word when she is feeling better.”

  “I will, sor. You can depend on it.”

  He saw her out and then stood at the door thinking a moment.

  So Grannish had a boy in the hall. That meant he would have to be more careful with his comings and goings. The cloak he used would hide the burned state of his body, but he would need to be careful just the same. He wondered briefly if Selinda was actually ill or if this was a ruse to keep her out of his bed. Then he discarded the bulk of the idea. She was more straightforward than that in his estimation. She would have fought with him rather than hide from him … wouldn’t she?

  No. He didn’t know why he trusted her so easily and so quickly. He wasn’t exactly known for his ability to trust, but he believed he had her measure and she would not play games with him. He had been unrelenting, it was true, but she had not balked with any great passion. In fact, she had seemed resigned to her course, a course she herself had chosen.

  He would look in on her in the morning if she didn’t come down to morning meal.

  “Mem! Oh, Mem!”

  It was early the next day when Selinda fell into the other woman’s arms, and for the first time since Grannish had beaten her she dissolved into tears of both weakness and relief. She was angry with herself for her cowering behavior but could not help it. She was so alone. She had Hanit, but the poor pagette was just as afraid of Grannish as Selinda was. Standing up to him had taken just about all the courage Hanit had. But the mem. The mem did not even know Grannish, so she had no cause to fear him.