“Shh,” the mem said softly, holding on to Selinda and petting her hair, letting her have her cry and rocking her with comfort. “Poor little princess,” she said soothingly. “If only people knew what troubles you endured.”
“But they do not. No one does.”
“Now, that’s not true. There is one who knows. One who can help you.”
That made Selinda’s tears stop almost abruptly. With a sniff and the repression of some last sobs, she sat up straighter and looked at the mem. Josepha was such a beautiful woman, she realized. Not a grand beauty, a woman of splendor like those in the court, but a smooth, mature beauty. A strong one. She was still in her prime, her shining black hair falling perfectly straight and loose down to her backside. She was broad shouldered for a woman but not gone to fat in any way. Actually the strength in her hands and arms told Selinda she was not a soft woman.
“What do you know?” Selinda asked warily.
“Only as much as you do. There is someone close to you who will be able to help you one day. All is not lost for you. You may yet prevail against … those who hurt you.” The mem raised cool, gentle fingers to touch the horrible swelling around Selinda’s eye. “You need me to heal you, yes? To hide this injury?”
“Yes,” Selinda whispered.
“I will do it. And then we will practice your magic.”
Selinda frowned, but before she could shake her head, the mem touched her chin to prevent it.
“I see things beyond what others see and I believe you know this. Let me show you what I see. What can it hurt to try?” she asked.
“It can give me hope where there should be none,” Selinda said bitterly.
“Ah, but you already have hope,” the mem said gently. “Otherwise, you would have given up entirely.”
Selinda sighed. “I do not think I wish you to be wise just now. Perhaps I wish to wallow in my own misery.”
“You speak many untruths today,” the mem said with a chuckle. “For if you wished to wallow you would not have called me to you at all. You wish to be healed so you can go about your day.”
“Yes. I do. And it must be hidden,” Selinda said, touching her battered face.
“Though I know not why,” Hanit said acidly. “I say you should tell Sor Dethan what Grannish has done to you.”
“To what end?” Selinda asked in a snap of temper. “What if he sees and thinks the risk to me and mine is too great and then stops his efforts altogether? Then that means I will be forced to Grannish’s bed. And we both know his unkindnesses will not stop at the bedroom door.”
“Unkindnesses,” Hanit echoed with a snort. “That’s an understatement if ever there was one. And this makes no sense. He would stop helping you because of Grannish’s cruelty only to send you into marriage with him?”
“He would not risk my life and the lives of my family! I would not want him to! Better I suffer as Grannish’s wife than see my father and brother dead! It could be worse,” Selinda said fatalistically. “It can always get worse when it comes to Grannish.”
Hanit could not argue that point so she remained quiet. Selinda was grateful for it. She simply wanted some peace. Just a moment. Even if it was an illusion.
“Now, let’s see to your injuries,” the mem said kindly, helping Selinda to lie back in her bed.
It took only half an hour for the mem to finish her work. When she was through, it was clear the effort had taken energy. And in spite of it, when Selinda looked in the mirror, only the worst of it had been cured. There was still much discoloration. But the swelling was gone. At least she could cover what remained with Hanit’s clever paintwork.
“Now,” the mem said. “Time to practice, my little magess.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Selinda said in a hard tone. “I am not a magess.”
“And you never will be with that attitude. At least try before you dismiss me altogether. And I mean an honest effort,” the mem said with a stern look.
“Very well. I will try. What do you wish me to do?”
“Let us see if we can discover what sort of magess you are. Last time we used water. This time we will use fire.”
The mem rose from the bed and retrieved a candle from a nearby table. She struck a match and lit the wick.
“But fire is the most powerful magic there is. I do not think—”
“You said you would try,” the mem scolded her.
“Very well,” Selinda said with a sigh.
“Fire comes from Xaxis, its creator. As I understand it, it is natural to those born in this region, for they have been guardians of the eight hells from before time was time. You are of the ruling class and so your blood runs deep in fire.”
“The fire of the eight hells can be a curse,” Selinda said, thinking of Dethan and how he suffered night after night … how he had suffered for ages. “Xaxis is the cruelest of the gods.”
“Some say Sabo is, for he thrives on the pain and suffering of others. Sabo and Xaxis have always competed with each other for the crown of cruelty. Xaxis would be proud to hear you say so.”
“The others are little better,” Selinda said, thinking of the way Weysa had cursed Dethan.
“Have a care. The gods hear what we say.”
“Most folk don’t even believe in the gods anymore.”
“But you do.”
“Yes, I do.” How could she not after seeing what Dethan suffered? What she couldn’t understand was how he could be so accepting of his fate. Perhaps he had deserved to be punished for reaching too far and trying to force the hands of the gods, but after ages of suffering, why must he still be tormented?
“Look into your heart,” the mem said softly to her. “Focus on the flame.”
“What am I trying to do? Put it out?”
“No. It takes far more skill to draw fire back than it does to thrust fire out. Drawing fire back into yourself can burn you, scorch your soul, if you are not careful. For now, try to make the flame burn brighter.”
Selinda tried, but nothing happened. The taunting little flame just flickered and danced in its own way.
“Do not give up,” the mem encouraged her.
But after ten minutes of trying, Selinda began to feel foolish. “This isn’t working,” Selinda huffed.
“You must give it time—”
“I have given it time!” Selinda snapped.
“So impatient and so like a child. You are a mature woman who has borne many trials! Surely a simple flame is not going to defeat you!”
“Go to the hells!” Selinda spat.
And the candle belched a large flame upward, setting both women back with gasps.
“There!” the mem cried in triumph. “I knew it would be fire!”
“But I … I didn’t do anything! I wasn’t even trying.” She narrowed her eyes on the mem. “Is this some sort of trickery?”
“No, my sweet lady. Your fire is directly tied to your most passionate emotions. Anger. Lust. Fear. All are aspects of Xaxis and all are a part of his flame. What you must do is channel those emotions into the flame. Try it again. Think of something that angers you and focus on the flame.”
It was not hard to come up with something that filled her with rage. All she needed to do was think of the impotence of her situation with Grannish and she was filled with the emotion. She gathered the whole of it up and pushed it at the flame.
The explosion was massive. Flame bellowed from above the candle, singeing Selinda’s clothes and catching fire to the edge of the mem’s cloak. The mem cried out, whipping the cloak off her shoulders and throwing it to the ground. She stomped at the flames and Hanit grabbed a pitcher full of water and doused the burning fabric with it.
All three women were breathing hard, staring at the smoldering cloak in their shock. The mem looked back at the candle and saw it was nothing more than a puddle of melted, burning wax. All she could think was that she was glad she hadn’t been holding it in her hands. As it was, the table was scorched all
around it. She looked at the grandina.
“Grandina, this is … What you have inside you is a very great power.”
“A very dangerous power,” Selinda said, still breathing hard. “We are lucky I didn’t harm you!”
Josepha could see the fear in the girl’s eyes. It was so raw she could almost taste it on her. She did not blame her in the least. This had been very unexpected.
“You must not fear your magic,” she said in earnest, reaching to cover the grandina’s hands with her own, encouraging her to look into her eyes. “You must realize this magic has been trapped inside you all these years with no outlet, and you with no way to measure or control it. You have a store of it inside you that now needs only to be vented regularly. To be exercised as one might exercise a horse for riding. It must be broken first. Tamed. And then all that power can be at the rider’s command. You will command this, my lady. You just need time.”
“And what if I burn you or Hanit in the process? Or burn the city to the ground?”
The mem leaned back a little and chuckled. “You think very much of your power. One large flame a long time in coming does not mean you can level a city. But it is true that we must be cautious. And perhaps I am not the best choice of teachers. We can apply to the temple of Xaxis for a mem or magess there.”
“No! No one else!” Selinda said urgently. “It will be you or no one. I … I don’t trust anyone else. And anyway”—she touched the melted puddle of wax, feeling the burn of it on her fingertips—“we have no fire magesses here in Hexis. I would know if we did. Grannish would have used a fire mage as a weapon long ago if there had been one.” Then she heard her own words and swallowed. “My gods. If he knew about this … Hanit, he would never let me go. He would … never let me go.”
“He’s not likely to let you go in any event,” Hanit said pointedly. “We’ll just have to see if … Well, the gods may yet intervene.”
“Forgive me, Hanit, but I will not place my life in the hands of—” She stopped then. If anything, her life these past days should tell her not to think lightly of the gods and their power. After all, had they not, after a fashion, sent her Dethan? Then there was the mem and her guidance. And now this power inside her. “But perhaps you are right. It will all be as the gods will it to be.”
“So it will be.”
“So it will be,” Hanit echoed the mem.
“So it will be,” Selinda said with a sigh.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
He was staring at her again. Or maybe it was better described as brooding contemplation while Dethan stood watching her manage the women of the household, holding meetings with each group of maids or laundresses or cooks as they came. Only this time she was twice as self-conscious because she was constantly afraid that he could see through the makeup on her face to the bruising beneath. She dreaded what he would do if he knew about Grannish’s attack. She was terrified he might act rashly.
No, she comforted herself, he was not a rash man. It was clear he approached things free of emotion. The only thing he had shown any hint of passion for was his cause, and since winning Hexis in Weysa’s name meant a great deal to him, she could take comfort in it being unlikely he would quit.
“You are feeling better?”
Selinda had not realized he had left his distant position and had moved over to her. She was sitting at a table, writing some notes to herself about things important to the household. As chatelaine of the fortress she managed all the household staff. To a degree. They might appear to be serving her and her father, but she knew most of them were actually serving Grannish and his best interests.
A household army of spies. Sometimes it made her feel suffocated. As if she could not breathe for fear it would be interpreted the wrong way. She had to fight with herself to remain strong in spite of it. If she were not, they would walk all over her. Grannish’s treatment of her would give them permission to walk all over her.
“Yes,” she said a bit awkwardly. It was not a lie, after all. She was feeling better. She only hoped he did not ask her what had been wrong. Then she would have to lie, and for some reason … she didn’t want to speak untruths to him. “I am sorry I could not come last night,” she said with the barest of whispers.
“As am I,” he said, his deep voice dropping even lower. It made her catch her breath. It was almost as if … as if he really had longed for her to be there.
Of course he had. Her ministrations must ease him greatly. She couldn’t imagine the pain he suffered every single night. And to think he had once suffered it continuously.
“It will not happen again,” she promised him.
“Selinda.” He moved, his lithe strength and incredible presence washing over her as he leaned nearer to her. “We have an agreement, that is true, but you are not beholden to it if you are too ill or if some other credible reason should make it so. I will not be cruel to you.”
She looked up into the powerful intelligence of his eyes, wondering where this man had come from and why the gods had seen fit to send him to her when she had needed someone like him most. She could only pray that he had what it took to defeat Grannish with her family coming out of the situation fully intact.
“I … I thank you for that,” she said softly.
“But please come to me tonight,” he said, reaching out to pull her hair into his hand, letting the strands sift through his fingers. The intimacy of it took her breath away one moment, and the next she was remembering herself, remembering Grannish’s warning, and looking nervously around.
“Please,” she said, drawing away from him by moving back a foot. “If anyone should see …”
“Let them see,” he said gruffly, moving closer to her again. “I have told your father that I want you to wife as reward for defeating the Redoe and he has agreed. It stands to reason I will woo you in the interim.”
That explained Grannish’s tirade yesterday. Her eyes widened as she realized what he had done, and what she had suffered because of it.
“Why would you do that? Don’t you understand?” She was heated and angry. “If Grannish thinks he is in danger of losing me, he will lash out any way he can!”
“Grannish will lose you,” he said firmly. “One way or another you will be mine. He will lash out regardless. This is what you asked of me. This is what you wanted.”
“I know. I know, but I am afraid,” she confessed, gripping her hands together to hide their trembling. “I am afraid for my family.”
“I will see them safely through,” he promised her. And, oh, how she wished she could believe him. “You must trust me.”
He reached for her again, his fingertips gliding along the line of her jaw, on the right side, the unscarred side. Good, she thought. She didn’t like it when he touched her scar. But she did like the feel of his warm touch against her. So much so that it outweighed her fear of being spied upon. She realized then that she craved his touch. Craved his nearness. He was so very kind to her, and she so very much needed someone to be kind to her.
And the next moment his kindness became something more, something heated, and the color of his eyes seemed to darken and his intent toward her seemed nearly predatory. His thumb slid under her chin and he tipped her head back.
“It’s the strangest thing,” he said to her, his tone so very rich and so incredibly masculine. “I find myself with this incredible need to touch you. No … that is a lie, for it is too tame. I find I want you, Selinda. It is a powerful need that drives me to you. I have much to do and yet I am here because I needed to see you. To be near you. To possibly touch you. Do not deny me your presence in my bed tonight, Selinda. I find I cannot do without it. I must have you in private, where I can …” He trailed off and she fully understood what he wasn’t saying. It took her breath away, and an outrageous response of heat flushed throughout her body. As he leaned closer to her, his body a wall of barely leashed power and male strength, it was everything she could do to keep from grabbing hold of him, fr
om running her hands over all those virile muscles so her fingertips could absorb the power lying just beneath his skin.
The desire shocked her to her core. She had never felt anything like that before. Not in all her life had she known such a powerful, carnal craving. It made her forget … it made her forget to be afraid of the eyes that were always on her.
“I would like to a-as well. Touch you, I mean,” she confessed with a fast and hot whisper. Oh, where were these words coming from? Was this scandalous creature really her?
But it was all worth it to see the slow, sure smile that eased over his lips. When it touched his eyes she realized what a wonderful smile it was. It lifted the aged weight from his eyes—the glint that was always there, which told anyone who could see it that he had endured incredible hardships. And while a smile did not erase those hardships completely, it did much to ease them.
“Now you have vexed me,” he said, leaning so close she could feel his breath against her lips.
“O-oh, I-I did not mean to—”
He silenced her with a single finger against her lips. “I am vexed because now I cannot decide which I want more … to touch you or to be touched by you.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“So come to my rooms tonight and we shall have both,” he promised her.
This time the idea of what he was expecting of her didn’t paralyze her with fear and the weight of the choices she had to make. This time she found herself looking forward to their time together in a way she hadn’t thought herself capable of. She should be ashamed of herself, she tried to tell herself, but when she thought of being alone in a room with so much power and grace, knowing it was hers for the taking …
“I see the thoughts in your mind,” he said with a growl. “You must stop thinking them if you do not wish for me to grab you here and now and kiss you until you do not care who is watching.”
Cursed by Fire: The Immortal Brothers Page 21
