Prophecy of the Flame

by Lynn Hardy

  The pair circles me, making halfhearted attempts at scoring a strike. “And, milady, if you best us both?” Alex asks as we come into eye contact again.

  “You will knight these ladies so they may become members of the Royal Guard.” I flick my staff in their direction.

  Alex utters the word, “Deal,” while he levels a strike at my right side. Parrying his flurry of blows isn’t difficult, but with Szames behind me, it is tricky business. As I hoped, Alex shuffles right, trying to put his brother in the line of fire. When I have both on either side, I cease holding back. I attack at full speed. Alex goes down first with a blow to the stomach. His brother soon follows when my staff makes contact with his sword arm followed by a jab to the right side of his rib cage.

  The crowd cheers wildly. I remark loudly enough to be heard by those around me, “When you insist on playing with fire, Your Highness, sometimes you get burned.”

  Chuckling, Szames adds, “Alex, it looks like she has bested you on both fields.”

  The crown prince eases to his feet, dusting himself off. With a gentlemanly bow, his voice rings out, clear for all to hear. “I stand humbled in the face of your prowess, ladies. Those of you who prove themselves in the coming battles shall be knighted.”

  The sincerity oozing off Alex must be affecting the crowd, for they cheer wildly, thumping anything in arm’s reach. When the noise begins to die down, he turns to me. Silence hovers over the sparring field as men strain to catch every word.

  “Milady, perhaps I can get some private lessons, on the field of your choosing.” Alex bows as if making a courtly proposition instead of an indecent one.

  Reinvigorated hooting is accompanied by several men chanting his name. Alex’s blatant innuendoes and the fact I still find myself attracted to him lights an inferno of anger.

  “Yes, Your Highness, I can see you are, indeed in need of lessons of many kinds.” Half the bystanders laugh, the other half back Alex’s position with ominous “Oooohs.”

  “Alex, by my count, she is ahead two to nothing.” Szames smiles at his brother’s defeat. “I do believe this is the first time you have failed to score.”

  “The game is far from over, Brother, far from over.” Alex’s murmur is missed by most of the soldiers.

  Disgusted, I shake my head. Is that what this is? Some kind of game with me as the prize?

  When Alex leaves, he takes the majority of the crowd with him. A mark later I have seen all the women fight. It is obvious they have one common fault. “Charles, once they learn to keep focused on the battle at hand and ignore any outside distractions, these women will be able to best any of the regular soldiers.”

  Prince Charming is uncharacteristically solemn. “I hope I can drive that point home; otherwise, there may be none left to be knighted. There’s a lot more going on in an actual conflict than there is here. If attention lags for even a moment, it will be a slaughter.”

  I notice quite a few men are still hanging about the edges of the practice field, interested in our workout. Approaching the largest group, I invite them to spar.

  A mischievous glint twinkles in my eyes. “Perhaps when they are bested by men with half their ability, the point will sink in.”

  “If nothing else, it will give them an opportunity to fight against people of varying skills.” Charles’s optimism still fails to exert itself. Unfortunately, hearing the midnight bells toll, I realize I am out of time.

  “I leave you in the capable hands of your instructor.” I nod my head in dismissal.

  Hurriedly Mikaela steps forward. With a curtsy that looks odd in her pantsuit, she bows her head. “Milady, we women have been discussin’ it. We have decided there’s much we owe you for what you’ve given us.” The defiant redhead rises to look me in the eye as she finishes, “All that we ask is that you either set a price on your aid or let us set one for you. Andrayia has told us that you give what you do, expectin’ nothin’. But we believe if you give nothin’ in return, then what’s been given has no meanin’—” I raise my hand, and her speech comes to a stumbling halt.

  “Do all of you feel the same?”

  The rest of the troop voices their agreement.

  An idea springs to mind. “Then a payment I will set. All eight of you have the skills to become the greatest warriors this kingdom has ever seen. Because of this, I ask that until the day you have been appointed to the Royal Guard, you act as my personal defenders, standing beside me when we take the field. I am a mage; the enemy will be throwing all they have my way. The payment I ask is high. The price may very well be your lives.”

  Several of the women pale, but all of them proclaim, “Yes, milady.”

  “We accept the price you ask, milady.” Mikaela curtsies formally.

  Feeling the need for privacy, I stride to the woods before going to my chambers. Wandering through the peaceful forest gives my mind a chance to unwind. A strangeness I cannot pinpoint causes me to look up. Focusing on the world around me, I find myself in the meadow with the misenchanted rock. “Ah, Kyle, I wish you were here.” I sigh, kneeling on the stone. “You must be going crazy, worrying about me. I know you could’ve found a better solution for the women”

  I am plagued by doubt about the decision I have made. Is having them close where I can try to protect them worth the added danger of being close to a high-priority target? Relenting, knowing the choice has already been made and fretting about it is getting me nowhere, I make my way to my rooms and the stack of papers waiting for me.

  *

  “Is that all for tomorrow’s schedule, milady?” Crystal valiantly fights another yawn.

  “With the Great Battle night after tomorrow, I refuse to waste time on social engagements, so no, there won’t be anything else for the next two days.”

  “Milady, if I may presume to ask, what of the day after the battle? I have heard rumors that you are to go on campaign?” Crystal’s eyes bat sleepily.

  “Have you now? Yes, those rumors are true. I suppose your duties will be light for the following ten days or so.”

  Puzzled, she tilts her head. “How so, milady? Will I not be accompanying you?”

  A startled laugh escapes me until I see she is sincere. “Go with me? You’re not a warrior. Why would you go on a campaign?”

  “You are still a lady,” the chambermaid explains. “As such, you will need at least one female servant to care for your needs. Since I am your personal maid, it is my privilege to accompany you wherever you go. It would be very improper otherwise.”

  “Crystal, can you even ride a horse?” All I need is another life in my hands.

  She shakes her head.

  “Then the matter is closed. You cannot ride; therefore, you cannot accompany me.” Feeling guilty for my harshness, I expound, “Crystal, I appreciate you thinking of my reputation, but it really doesn’t matter to me how inappropriate it is. I’ll be leaving when I return from the trip. I don’t wish to endanger your life needlessly.”

  Stunned gratitude emanates from her.

  I make a hasty addition. “And about this yawning. It’s obvious you need some rest. If you will instruct the servants that they can leave after dessert, I would like you to take the rest of the night off. Get some sleep.”

  The new topic doesn’t help her emotional state. Tears are threatening to overflow as she curtsies to leave. What am I supposed to do, ignore her needs? By her reaction you’d think I gave her a million dollars. “Hmph.” More likely, it’s the first kindness that she’s seen in several years. A knock on the outer door brings me out of my internal musings. I jump to answer it. Don’t want her to think I have reconsidered.

  I smile in familiar greeting to my favorite dinner partner. Following Szames into the dining room, I notice he is walking rather stiffly. “A little sore from practice?” A hint of a smile enters my voice.

  “Practice?” His smile widens. “You mean that massacre? I had forgotten how painful it can be to lose, but it was worth it to witness Alex’s frust
ration firsthand.”

  “You really think it bothered him?”

  “Believe me, there is no end to the frustration your encounters are bringing him.”

  My brow crinkles in puzzlement. “He thrives on the game?”

  “Your evasiveness in no way keeps him from enjoying it immensely.” Szames gingerly takes his seat.

  I harrumph dejectedly. “I wish he’d give up already.” Casually we serve ourselves dinner as we continue the conversation.

  “I would wager he has not seen a challenge like this since he courted Andrayia.” He shrugs. “It took him a full two years to win her to his bed.”

  “Two years! He’s insane!” Recognizing the panicked quality to my voluminous riposte, I clear my throat. “That man has all kinds of women surrounding him. What would make him continue to pursue someone who rejects his advances?”

  “I think it has to do with the unconquerable enemy. There is a new challenge set up at every Fall Festival. Those were always Alex’s favorite entries. He always wins. If someone tells him that he cannot have something, that is exactly where he sets his mind.” Our conversation lags while we dig into dinner.

  Dessert is served as Szames asks, “Did you know half the men have placed bets on the two of you?”

  “Bets on us?” The nature of the contest hits. My question is a thrust of steel. “What are the odds?”

  “If you will excuse the crudeness, they are two-to-one that he will bed you before the battle and even odds that it will be after.” The glint of laughter in his eyes sparks a fire under my temper.

  “What are the odds that I won’t be bedded at all? I suggest you place your money there.”

  “I am pretty sure no one has even considered that possibility.” Szames chuckles.

  Relaxing in the company of someone who I now consider to be a good friend, the tension of the day drains away. The impending battle seems a distant future. I sip mulled wine while Szames struggles to get the last piece of cobbler on his fork, a fork he is wielding with his left hand.

  “Is your wrist still sore? I must have hit you harder than I thought.” I make my way to his side of the table. “Here, let me take a look at it.”

  “It is fine, really,” he protests. “I will have one of the physicians look at it tomorrow if it is not whole by then.”

  Standing with my arms folded across my chest, I give him my best mothering glare. “I’ve got plenty of healing power left. Off with the chain mail already.”

  Heaving a sigh, he removes his tabard and mail. The sleeves of the padded shirt underneath tight enough that he can’t get it up far enough for me to examine the wound. He removes that as well.

  I wince at the sight of his bared flesh. “Oh, Szames, I am so, so sorry.”

  An ugly, purple bruise covers the center of his chest, another one covers his right side, and a particularly nasty one is inches from his spine.

  “It is part of fencing.” He shrugs. Noticing the guilty look, he adds, “Now surely you must have more sense than Rose? You know that this is not your fault.”

  Willing the tears not to fall, straining to keep emotion out of my voice, I reach for his arm. “But I landed every one of those blows. The least you can do is let me heal them.”

  I put all my effort into attaining a new level of healer’s sight. Confident I have achieved my goal, I work on his wrist then move on to the rest. Half a mark later, I heave a sigh.

  “I’ve got the majority of the damage repaired,” I inform him, “but I don’t have enough energy to fix those knotted muscles in your back.”

  “Ahhh, that was amazing. The pain has disappeared. The rest of those knots truly have nothing to do with you.” Muscles ripple as he struggles into his shirt. “It is merely stress that has plagued me since we first got word of the demons.”

  Placing my hand on his arm, I halt his dressing. “You took care of my head last night; I insist you let me take care of your back tonight. It just so happens I give excellent back rubs, even if I am a little out of practice.”

  “On…” The stammering words finally make it out. “On… your bed?”

  I put a stranglehold on the sudden case of the giggles threatening to burst forth. I smirk. “It’ll be a lot more comfortable than the floor.”

  “But your husband…” he stutters.

  “Szames, unless you are more like your brother than you seem, I think you can be trusted to behave like a gentleman, even on my bed.” My lips pucker with mock seriousness. “Do I have your word you won’t take advantage of the situation?”

  “Reba, I would never…” My lips curve and he hastens on. “If you are sure you wish to.”

  “Look. I used to give them to all my male friends growing up. There’s nothing immoral about it.” Holding my breath, I manage to contain a sigh. Am I pulling teeth or trying to make him feel better? “The practice of massage is something I find quite relaxing. And, boy, could I use some relaxation right now.”

  With the hesitant blond in tow, I lead him into the next chamber. Szames drops his things on the couch. When he looks to me, I gesture toward the waiting plateau. He shucks off his boots and crawls onto the mattress. Without the distractions of the bruises, I notice the body I have been working on.

  Wide, heavily muscled shoulders; a chest with defined pecks; and a washboard stomach make a very broad V leading to a shapely butt. Szames’s hulking form makes the gigantic mattress look like a normal king size. My hormones kick into overdrive. God, it’s been a long time. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. after that speech, there’s no way I’m backing down!

  “Flat on your stomach now.” Pretend this is one of your sisters. This is a simple massage. Just a back rub. The litany does little to calm my awakened libido. I hurry to remove my shoes, blushing as I crawl onto the pillowed surface with the blond hunk.

  His muscles tense underneath my hands as I place them on his shoulders. “Szames, for this to do you any good, you are going to have to relax,” I chide.

  He takes a deep breath. The tension eases somewhat. Kneading his muscles with my fingers, I make my way across his back. Thank goodness for the added strength, or my hands would never hold up to these massive tendons. Trancing, I use my power to augment the massage, easing the stressed areas. Scanning with healer’s sight, I notice a knot of pressure still exists in his lower back, even after all my effort.

  I reexamine the problem. After several minutes, my face begins to burn. For the entire duration of this massage, Szames has been stiff as a board!

  Applying the last dregs of my healing energy, I calm his surging hormones and decrease the blood flow to the aroused area. I smile in satisfaction as the last indications of stress leave his body. Disabling my sight, I continue the rubdown the old-fashioned way, magically unaided. As anticipated, the process is comforting, if slightly arousing.

  My hands become too tired to continue. I look up. The sun is peaking in through the curtains. Having had time to fully unwind, I am exhausted.

  Szames is sound asleep. I finally got him to relax; the last thing I want to do is wake him. I glance at the austere-looking couch. Recalling the trials of my youth, how difficult it can be not to follow your instincts when you first wake with your senses muddled, I am still unwilling to be that uncomfortable. I decide, nonetheless, to play it safe. I complete my bedtime rituals then mumble a couple of lines to release the bindings of my brassiere, tossing it off the side of the bed. Lying down, I intone.

  “Sleeping here is a must.

  Morality can’t be a bust,

  So snoozing I will remain

  Until hormones are restrained.”

  Peacefulness overcomes me. Slipping into slumber, my lips curve. Having another warm body in the bed makes me feel a little less lonely in this world so far from my home.

  In the haze of sleep, I feel the body next to me stiffen. Subconsciously I acknowledge it, trailing my hand across Szames’s abdomen. My lips graze the chest where my head resides before rolling over so my
sleeping partner can get comfortable. It was a nightly ritual with my husband. The motions come naturally, even in the haze of sleep. A groan of desire escapes Szames. The noise brings me to the edge of consciousness. The enchantment wraps itself around me, sending me once again into the oblivion of slumber.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Boy, did I have the strangest dream last night,” I remark to Crystal while easing into the warm water.

  My handmaiden raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to continue. “Szames, Alex, and Kyle were battling. The princes with a swords, and my husband wielding a saber made of fire.” I make a halfhearted attempt to explain a Star Wars lightsaber in gothic terms. “As the brothers attacked, sparks flew.”

  “The strangest part of the dream was my behavior. I just stood by, helpless, not doing anything. Crystal, I don’t think I have ever been truly helpless in my entire life.” My last remark gets a disgruntled grumble from the maid. I pin her with a questioning stare.

  “Milady, the dream’s provocation is obvious, considering last night’s activities.” Her condescending tone leaves me speechless. Bitterness spikes within her as she continues. “So much for the idealistic relationships of your homeland. It took less than an octal for my world to defeat what you supposedly cherish.”

  Even though I know it is neither required nor expected, I begin to explain. “I know what you think you saw, but you’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion. What transpired last night was nothing that transgressed my wedding vows: I only gave a massage to a friend who fell asleep.”

  “Perhaps last night was innocent enough, but the next time probably won’t be.”

  Guilt fuels my temper. “Look. I had everything under control. I spelled myself not to wake until he left. I’d bet my life Szames isn’t the type to rape someone while they sleep.”

  Crystal looks at the floor, but hurt anger seethes in her eyes.

  “Please, talk freely,” I urge her.

  The words barely pass my lips when she barges on. “He is a man. How long is he expected to resist a woman with whom love has obviously dawned. Last night was a close matter. I observed the testing of his self-control as he stated his feelings for you. He fought for control of the passion within. Unless he finds something to relieve the state he’s in, he’s likely to wind up with man-cramps so bad, he won’t be able to stand to fight in the Great Battle.”